AFTER CHECKING INTO the hotel, Eliza and Alex walked around downtown, making the most of the opportunity of being in Alaska. The night was cold enough that Eliza could see her breath on the air. She shivered and shoved her hands in her pockets. She might have to buy a heavier coat if they were going to be here a while.
“This is so freaky,” Alex said, glancing at his watch. “It's almost ten and the sun is still up.”
Eliza had to agree with him. She was definitely going to have a hard time sleeping tonight. Half of her was ready to fall in bed while the other half insisted it wasn’t tired in the least. It was beyond her how anyone could get used to this crazy daylight schedule, but all around them people were going about their business as if everything was completely normal.
Up ahead a big man with a set of broad shoulders stepped out of a shop. For a minute, she thought it was that cute guy she'd seen back at the diner, but when he turned her way, she realized it wasn't. Of course not—she couldn't be that lucky.
Eliza glanced over her shoulder at the diner down the street. Was the dark-haired hunk still there? Maybe she should ditch Alex and go back to see. She knew it was crazy, but she hadn't been able to think of anything but that guy since she’d borrowed the ketchup. She shook her head. She was here to do a story, not hook up with Mr. Alaska, no matter how gorgeous here was. Besides, it’s not like there’d ever be any long-term potential there. She was only going to be in Fairbanks for a few days—a week at the most.
She pushed her silly crush to the back of her mind where it belonged and focused on work—or more importantly the question she'd wanted to ask the photographer ever since they boarded the plane back in San Francisco.
“Alex, I need some advice,” she said.
He gave her a sidelong glance. “Shoot.”
God, she hoped he didn’t take this the wrong way. “Does Roger really expect me to investigate this werewolf sighting and write a truthful story about it? Since werewolves don't exist, that's going to be a problem isn't it?”
Eliza braced herself—she wasn’t sure how deep into this paranormal crap Alex really was. But he only laughed. Well, at least he hadn't accused her of blasphemy for so much as suggesting werewolves weren't real.
“Roger expects you to write an article that will grab our readers’ attention, but he doesn't want you to lie,” Alex said. “How you do both is up to you.”
She frowned. That wasn't very helpful.
Alex pulled up the collar of his coat, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but some of the reporters at PT write their stories on the flight, then just tweak them a bit to fit the details when they get on the ground. It’s none of my business what they do, but I think it’s pretty crappy of them. So, if you're asking my opinion, there are ways to write an honest story and still make it suitable for publication in a paranormal magazine.”
Eliza wasn't sure if that really answered her question any better.
The photographer threw her another look as he sidestepped a streetlamp. “A couple months ago, I went to the Florida Everglades with another reporter looking for swamp monsters some of the locals said they saw. It turned out that the swamp monsters were nothing more than a new species of harmless lizard. Jackson could have made up some crap about Komodo dragons roaming the Glades and being responsible for every person who went missing in the local area for the last decade, but he didn’t. Instead, he reported what he saw, then let the reader fill in the gaps. If they wanted to think those lizards were swamp monsters, he wasn’t going to tell them otherwise.”
Because if every reporter who worked for Paranormal Times did that, the magazine would be out of business. When he put it that way, it sounded easy enough. But it was still underhanded, wasn’t it?
“So, why didn't you give your number to that guy back there?”
Eliza jerked her gaze away from an intricately carved totem they’d stopped to admire outside a native arts and crafts store to look at Alex in surprise. She practically had whiplash from how fast he’d changed subjects. “What guy?”
He snorted. “The guy at the diner you thought was so hot. And don't try and tell me you didn't think he was. I have two sisters—I recognize the look.”
She stifled a groan. Had she been that obvious? She was trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make her seem like a total loser when something suddenly struck her. What if Alex had asked because he was jealous? Crap. That was all she needed. One coworker already hated her—she didn't need another to dislike her, too.
She gave Alex a sidelong glance. He didn’t look jealous. He seemed genuinely interested in her answer.
Eliza sighed and went back to admiring the carved wood. A bear climbed up one side, his big paws wrapped around the other, while fish and birds made up the rest of the totem. “I'm crappy when it comes to meeting men,” she admitted as she lightly ran her fingers over the wood. “I tend to overthink everything and before I know it, I’m standing there going over all the things I could have said in my head while a guy who could be Mr. Right walks away.”
Or in this case, Mr. Alaska.
“Ah.” Alex leaned one shoulder against the side of the building. “You froze huh? I get that—same thing happens to me. I usually only realize I messed up the chance to meet someone pretty cool after I'm on my way home. Then I'm kicking myself for being so stupid.”
Eliza smiled. No doubt, she'd be doing the same thing on the trip back to San Francisco. Which sucked. It was almost enough to make her vow to eat at the diner every day until they left on the off chance she’d see Mr. Alaska again.
* * * * *
He expected the people in downtown Fairbanks to run when they saw him, but they didn’t. Probably because the demon inside had allowed him to go back to his human form. These sheep had no idea what kind of monster walked among them.
He’d awakened in the forest several days ago naked, cold, in pain, and disoriented. He couldn't remember exactly when his body had started to convulse and shudder its way out the demon wolf form and into his frail humanlike shape. But he remembered the agony—that he would never forget. It was like the demon who possessed him had crushed every bone in his body as a way of reminding him that his torture wasn’t over. That it wouldn’t be over until every one of those bastards who'd betrayed him had been sent to hell first.
The first time he'd been released from his beast form, he thought it meant his ordeal was over. But he'd barely made it back from the place where he'd been abandoned to his house outside of Fairbanks when he’d caught Jed’s stench on the doorstep. Knowing that traitor had been there sent the demon into a rage, and the excruciating pain that came with being possessed was a small price to pay for killing Jed.
That was when he knew why he'd been allowed to escape from hell for a short time and bound to a demon's form. He was here to be an instrument of retribution and revenge. And he was impatient to find the next person on hell's list.
Though it was far from the protective seclusion of the forest he preferred, his instincts had led him to this part of town because this was where he knew he'd find his next target. Aiken Wainwright had always liked to come here looking for some unsuspecting tourist to swindle—or take to bed. His lip curled.
He smelled Aiken before he saw him, but he trusted his nose, so he followed the scent for several blocks. It led him to a crowded street he remembered well.
Aiken was strolling down the sidewalk on the other side of the street as if he didn't have a care in the world. This man had betrayed him…hurt him. The urge to run across the street and rip out the bastard’s throat was so overpowering he started to tremble. He grabbed the lamp post to steady himself. He couldn’t attack until the beast inside him returned, and he had no idea when that would be.
He ran his tongue over his teeth and felt the prick of his sharp canines against the sensitive flesh. Perhaps it wouldn't take nearly as long as he thought for the demon to come out. It almost felt like his body was ready to change again. He'd been forced to wait nearly four weeks between Jed and Mark. But now he felt the burning itch in his muscles that told him it might be much faster this time.
He was wondering if he should go somewhere less crowded in case the demon came back when he caught a tantalizing scent on the cool night air. He turned in a circle, trying to pinpoint where the smell was coming from. His eyes locked on a dark-haired woman standing outside a store two blocks down that sold carved totems. She said something to the man beside her that made the guy laugh, then they both started down the street. He instinctively followed, pushing people aside who got in his way.
He’d almost caught up to them when he stopped short. What was he doing? He was sent back to get revenge, not to chase after some woman—no matter how good she smelled. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to scour the streets until he found her. He needed to deal with Aiken first. Then he'd come back and track down the woman.
* * * * *
This was hopeless.
Hunter had been sitting in front of his laptop for two solid hours with nothing to show for it. So much for the lesson plan he was supposed to put together for next semester. The detailed study of the migratory patterns of Alaska's herd populations was a completely new class to the curriculum and he had to turn in his proposal to the head of the department in two weeks. Hunter had been one of the leading proponents of adding it to the program, but every time he tried to get his thoughts on paper, his mind refused to cooperate. Instead of focusing on how caribou and moose moved about the state throughout the year, all he could think about was the gorgeous woman he'd met at the diner earlier.
He pushed back from his desk with a growl. He couldn't understand what had him so geeked up. Sure, the woman had been attractive. But he'd met lots of attractive women and never had this kind of response. What made her so different? Maybe those exotic dark eyes, sexy voice, and the way her ass had looked in those jeans as she walked away. Then there was her scent. Just thinking about how delicious it was had his cock stiffening in his pants—again. Well, technically, it hadn't really gone down since he’d laid eyes on the woman. But when he thought about her, his erection got really hard.
Damn, he seriously needed to get laid more often.
He glanced at the clock and saw that it was midnight. Maybe he should take a cold shower before going to bed. Right. Like that was going to help. Not even sitting in a bathtub of ice water could make him forget the woman responsible for his current condition—or soften his hard-on. Yeah, well sleeping like this was out of the question.
That left him with only one other choice.
Getting to his feet, Hunter headed for the back door. The night was cool, but not bad compared to the winter months. He stepped out on the deck and took a deep breath, loving the feel of the cold air entering his lungs and the frost that hung in front of his face as he exhaled.
He scanned the area, his eyes adjusting to the darkness and allowing him to see as well as if it were daytime. He didn’t expect anyone to be wandering around in the woods behind his house, but he always checked just the same. Even in a place like this where people went out of their way to keep to themselves, someone might take notice of him walking around the forest naked.
But both his eyes and his nose told him there wasn’t anyone around. He took off his boots, then jogged down the steps and toward the tree line. Along the way, he stripped off his shirt and jeans, leaving them hanging on the partially opened doors of his work shed. The frigid night didn’t do anything to cool his arousal, but at least shifting into his wolf form would force him to focus on something other than his damn hard-on.
It had been a week since he’d last changed—when he'd gone out searching the area where the latest victim had been found. Unfortunately, there'd been so many cops around that he couldn't really focus on tracking the killer's scent very well. To make matters worse, those same cops had also kept him from cutting loose and running like he normally did.
Which was probably part of the reason he was so damn keyed up right now—and likely why he'd been so affected by that woman's scent.
A few hours of running through the woods and he'd be so freaking exhausted he’d fall into bed when he came back—hopefully with his head screwed on straighter than it was now. Because he was definitely going to need to be sharp for the fight that his gut told him was coming. If he was right, and the other Were was an out-of-control newborn, Hunter would be going up against pure animal instincts. His human intelligence could mean the difference between winning and losing.
Hunter dropped to his hands and knees the moment he entered the forest, digging his fingers and toes into the loose, pine-needle covered dirt. He arched and bowed his back several times, then stretched his neck back and forth until he heard it pop. It was a ritual he’d established over the years, something that helped him relax before starting the change.
Even though he could already feel the itch crawling over his skin and the heat in his muscles that told him the transformation was starting, he didn’t push it. If he'd wanted to, he could rapidly accelerate the process, but that was hard on the body—not to mention painful as hell. Not that taking it slowly made the change any more enjoyable. There was no way to reshape every bone in your body and have it feel good. But it hurt a lot less if you let the changes wash over you gradually.
The part that always morphed first were his shoulders and chest, quickly followed by his hips. Those were the biggest bones that had to reform, and the cracking and popping that came with it seemed to echo in the night. Hunter closed his eyes and forced himself to keep his breathing slow and steady.
He remembered the first time he'd gone through this. He’d fought every step of the way to maintain his human identity and it had hurt like the seven levels of hell. Far worse even than trying to speed up the change. It had taken him a while to learn that the process was a tidal wave of force. There was no resisting it; just acceptance. Try to stand up to a tidal wave, and you’ll only get crushed—that’s what his father had told him.
As Hunter’s muscles rippled to catch up to the bone structures changing around it, spasms slid up the back of his head and along either side of his jaw. The most amazing thing about the transformation was that the drastic changes to his face and head hurt less than the rest of the shift. Even though his head was easily twice the size it was when he was human, and his ears moved to the top of his head, for whatever reason, those changes weren’t nearly as uncomfortable compared to everything else going on in his body.
His dad had told him that howling during the change made some werewolves forget about the pain. Hunter’d always thought that was a stupid and dangerous habit to get into. He'd checked before starting to transform, but that didn't mean someone hadn’t wandered into the area during the process. He wasn’t exactly very aware of what was going on around him when he was shifting. And howling like an injured wolf caught in a trap would only make a person come running. Especially in Alaska. There were a lot of hunters who set a lot of traps.
The last part of the change—fur growing thick and fast over his body—wasn't painful as much as it was freaky feeling. And sort of itchy.
Even though he hadn't pushed the shift, the whole thing didn’t take more than ten minutes. But because he hadn't forced it, he wasn't sore, tired, or out of breath. That was the true benefit to taking your time—you didn't feel like a rented mule afterward.
Hunter checked around again, this time with senses that were several orders of magnitude more perceptive. But while he immediately picked up the sounds and smells of hundreds of animals large and small, he didn't detect any people. It was safe for him to run.
He trotted deeper into the forest, the sound of his steps barely discernable to his sensitive ears, even though he now weighed more than three-hundred pounds. Luke had once asked their father how it was possible for them to weigh more in wolf form than they did when they were human. Their dad had simply asked him how it was possible for a human to turn into a wolf. So much for stupid questions.
Hunter ran harder the deeper he got into the trees. He didn’t have a destination in mind. He didn’t care where he went. He simply let go and enjoyed the sensation of the wind ruffling his thick fur. Running like this was the most exhilarating feeling in the world. It always allowed him to work through whatever problems plagued him in ways he couldn’t when he was in his human form.
But tonight, that clarity wouldn't come—no matter how far or how fast he ran. He kept going back and forth between the beautiful woman at the diner and the rogue wolf that was killing on his territory.
It wasn’t hard to figure out why the other werewolf bothered him. It didn't take a wolf's instinctive understanding of the world to realize that this Were wasn't behaving like any other werewolf he'd ever heard about. That same instinct told him this Were was going to be harder to deal with than the previous werewolves he’d gone up against.
What he couldn't get a grip on was why the woman—one he'd talked to for less than five minutes—was still having such powerful effect on him.
As the miles rolled by, the images of the dark-haired beauty grew more vivid. Shit. This wasn’t normal, was it? Maybe he should to talk to another werewolf about it. Like Luke. Or better yet, his dad.
No, they’d think he was losing it.
So instead, he ran until he couldn’t run anymore.
He got home a few minutes before sunrise. He changed back into his human form, then pulled on his clothes and jogged up the steps into his house. But while he might be exhausted as hell, he wasn't any more ready for bed than he'd been before.