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Reprieve came from an unexpected direction. The judge, who I’d thought was looking for the slimmest excuse to wrest Kira out of my custody, banged his gavel before Stephanie could do more than open her mouth for what was bound to be a heated rebuttal.
“As much as I’m enjoying this farce, I have a dinner date,” the man said dryly. “So we’ll conclude this case on Friday. If anyone has additional evidence they hope to discuss at that time, I recommend you file it in advance.”
Then we were rising, watching the judge sweep out the back door while Simon stormed out the front. It wasn’t a success, but at least we’d been granted a stay of execution. And after thanking Stephanie for her support, the fun-loving werewolves around me immediately leapt onto the idea of a celebratory hunt.
“Wildacres?” Allen suggested, naming the former retreat center that had become the pack’s customary hunting grounds in the months since Kira and I had been folded into their pack-in-exile. Because the loss of Mama’s star ball meant Kira wouldn’t be able to shift until she materialized magic of her own making. Good thing Gunner just so happened to have purchased a two-hundred-acre retreat complex, complete with trails wide enough for a teen-driven golf cart to speed along beside wolves and one lone kitsune.
I glanced at my sister, expecting her to take the choice of venue as her due. But Kira wasn’t even following the conversation, I realized. Instead, her legs wobbled and her lips quivered, giving me just enough warning to encircle her waist with one supportive arm before she sagged.
“Kira?” I asked, trying to remember if I’d fed her lunch. No, I hadn’t. But my sister had been in the middle of the pack at the noon hour—surely the guys had stuffed her to the gills.
“I’m fine.” Now Kira sounded like herself...and looked like herself as she batted away my supporting arm too. “And you guys don’t have to go to Wildacres just for me either. I’d rather read in the car than hang out with you losers anyway.”
Now every eye was focused on my sister, four sets of werewolf eyebrows lowering in synchronicity that owed much more to their attachment to Kira than it did to the bonds of pack. “Losers, huh?” Tank countered while I was still trying to decide if the legal setback was really what had shaken up my sister so thoroughly or whether her health had faded so much so quickly. “You can’t even beat us with an engine under your a...butt. You want to beg off because you’re afraid.”
For all of his wolfishness, Tank was surprisingly subtle when he wanted to be. Okay, so maybe “subtle” wasn’t quite the right word for it. But, whatever the proper adjective, Tank’s jibe effectively staved off Kira’s emotional retreat and tempted her to engage with her usual flourish.
“Am not!” the child countered.
“Are too!” came the lawyer’s skillful repartee.
As our other companions cheerfully joined into the bickering, we all ambled together out to Gunner’s SUV then rode through rush hour traffic to Wildacres. And if an odd hole opened up in my stomach as I watched my sister’s easy camaraderie with the werewolves, it was worth it for the smile that ended up on her formerly grumpy face.
***
WE STRIPPED AND SHIFTED outside the abandoned retreat center’s main building, in a parking lot surrounded by trees that reminded me for one split second of the setting of my nightmare. Perhaps that’s why I hesitated before transforming, stood for ten long seconds absolutely naked but with my panties still dangling from lax fingertips.
“Mai?” Gunner’s warm presence pulled me out of my brown study, his eyes searing into my own. Unlike me, he and the guys were accustomed to shifting in company. In fact, the other three werewolves were already in lupine form, frolicking beside my sister who had thoroughly regained her usual good humor during the preceding ride.
“Sorry.” I shook my head and dropped the scrap of fabric onto the pile of clothing between us, trying to keep my gaze as carefully face-oriented as Gunner’s was. I was a fox, though, not a werewolf. So perhaps it was merely vulpine curiosity that made my eyes drift south....
Whatever the reason, I couldn’t stop myself from assessing the alpha’s corded muscles and sun-warmed angles. My gaze stroked skin that I would have liked to follow with my hands....
Well, that’s not happening. Covering up my illicit daydream, I acted as I should have minutes earlier. I closed my eyes for one split second, then I exploded into the form of my fox.
Fur itched as it pushed out of a human body. Fingernails yanked themselves forward into claw points. My tail grew lightning quickly into a fifth appendage, its fluffy bulk providing an acrobatic grace I could never muster on two legs.
And as I gave in to the fox’s body, the preceding awkwardness faded in the face of the challenge of a slanted tree trunk. Rough bark on paw pads. The scrabble of claws against wood as I almost slipped but didn’t fall.
Then I was laughing down at my companion from five feet above him...just as the low whir of the golf cart’s electric engine started the race.
Immediately, every head turned toward Kira’s conveyance. This was why we came here. To hunt sometimes, but more often just to run. And with Kira zipping down the path already, every wolf was hard-wired to give chase.
Foxes, on the other hand, have more choice in the matter. Yes, I craved a triumph...but I was more flexible about how I achieved that goal. Cutting down into a ravine then back up the other side might have been cheating by werewolf standards, but how can you cheat when there are no rules?
Wind, fur, mud, rush. This was the best part of denning with werewolves—the opportunity and ability to race.
Which is how I came to be diving out of the woods to rejoin the others as Kira sped toward the finish line. Behind her, a line of panting werewolves jockeyed for position, Gunner in the lead as his claws tore up the soft earth.
Only nobody in our pack triumphed. Instead, the golf cart skidded sideways as it stopped prematurely, the wolves between me and Kira growling as they picked up on clues I was unable to see or smell from my spot on the other side of the ditch.
Then a tall figure rose up beside my sister’s shoulder. A grimly smiling werewolf, but not a stranger unfortunately.
“Well met, brother,” offered the pack leader who had sent Gunner into exile. Then his hand came down upon Kira’s unprotected neck.