by Lisa Kessler
“I’m meeting up with some of the team at Sugar’s.” Her dark eyes shone with hope. “Want to join us?”
“Wish I could, but I’ve got a…thing.” Dammit. I should have thought up something better, but I couldn’t tell her I needed to get to my plane so I could search the mountains for a rogue werewolf.
“A thing?” She lifted a brow. “Come on. I promise it’ll be fun.”
I shook my head. “I have no doubt, but I’ll need a rain check.”
“All right.” She took a step back. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“Next time.” I chuckled, part of me wishing I could explain why I needed to keep my distance. “Thanks for the invite.”
“Fine.” Jamie smirked. “See you tomorrow.”
As soon as she turned, I slipped into my black Z and fired up the engine. Finding a lone wolf in the mountains would be a long shot, but if one was out there, I had to try.
I taxied my Navion down the runway, finishing my run up checklist of the airplane systems on the instrument panel. Flying was second nature to me. I’d gotten my pilot’s license before I had even left for college, and I bought my plane, Vera, after I landed my first job as an anchor. I had spent every spare minute of that first year restoring her to her former warbird glory.
Seemed like lifetimes ago now.
I adjusted my headset and called out my plane and tail number to the tower. “Navion 4750 ready for takeoff, left crosswind departure.”
The tower replied, “Navion 4750, you’re cleared for takeoff, runway twenty-seven left.”
I made the final turn and gripped the yoke, my body tensing with nervous energy, eager to soar. Takeoffs and landings were usually the most dangerous parts of flying, but what I had in mind tonight made takeoff seem simple. I shouldn’t risk flying low at night, and if I were still human, I probably wouldn’t attempt it, but between my heightened senses and my hunger to prove my worthiness to the pack, there was no way I could resist trying.
Vera picked up speed, racing down the runway until I was pressed back against my seat. I pulled back on the yoke, enjoying the rush as the lights of the runway blurred outside my windows and she lifted into the air.
Freedom.
The city lights sparkled as I headed west toward the dark mountains. With my night vision, I had no trouble making out the peak of Lookout Mountain in the shadows. The howls came from this direction, but it was a long shot to think I might spot the wolf. I would start with the peak and make a few passes. If nothing else, the focus and concentration it took to fly low in the dark would take my mind off my meeting tomorrow night.
When I wasn’t covering the news, I kept my ear to the ground following Brad Newport’s campaign for the Senate. A few months ago, my pack had discovered Newport was keeping some secrets of his own. The candidate had been part of the Timberwolves squad, a military unit that now possessed the heightened senses of werewolves but without shifting.
He and his fellow soldiers had been injected with an experimental drug from Evolution Defense that had mutated their DNA. Many of the men hadn’t been able to manage the new abilities and the aggression. Newport himself seemed laser-focused on transparency when it came to the federal government’s experiments on soldiers, which made him a threat to my pack. If he was elected, we could all be exposed to the human world and hunted.
But I’d recently gotten a tip about the politician’s financial backing, and following the money was probably our best chance at stopping him. Tonight, the informant had finally agreed to meet me, so by tomorrow night I might have something substantial to help me keep shifters from becoming lab rats—or worse.
I pushed the thoughts away and angled the Navion’s wings, taking a tight turn to scan the mountaintop. Nothing. I rounded the peak, about to make another pass, when movement below caught my eye. My heart pounded as I squinted, scanning the barren landscape below, and spotted it: a white wolf racing across the rocky terrain.
I had found the damned thing.
From this distance, I couldn’t gauge its size, but wolves weren’t native to Phoenix. The closest wolf sanctuary was over twenty miles away. Even if a wolf had escaped, there was no way it would have gotten this far without being spotted.
It had to be a werewolf—a lone wolf. The Sedona pack was the only werewolf pack in the state, and they were shifting on the ranch miles from here.
I kept my eye on the turn and bank indicator on the instrument panel as I made a tight sixty-degree bank. The white wolf stopped running and tipped its head up, as if daring me to come closer. Although I was a jaguar shifter in a werewolf pack, until tonight, I’d never seen one during a full moon. My body morphed during the new moon, and so far, they’d never invited me to watch over them during a change.
Were any of them white like this one?
I made one more pass, half expecting the wolf to be gone, but the white wolf remained in the same spot, stoic, showing no fear at the roar of the plane’s propeller. There’s no way this was a wild animal. Not purely. There was a person in that animal’s consciousness, someone who recognized an airplane.
I swallowed and pulled the plane up, leaving Lookout Mountain behind me. My palms were sweating by the time I radioed into the tower to request clearance to land.
Damn. Between this lone wolf, Brad Newport’s senate run, and the few remaining jaguar shifters who used to follow Damian Severino and the Nero Organization, it seemed as if our existence was at risk from every angle. I gave a little laugh. If anyone had told me that I would be the one trying to shield shifters from discovery, I wouldn’t have believed it. After being bitten almost four years ago, I’d actually been eager to out shifters to the world. In my defense, I thought I was going to turn into the madman who bit me. It took time—and a meeting with General Miller Sloan—to convince me shifters weren’t evil. Sloan had been part of Operation Moonlight, the government’s first attempt to mold shifters into super soldiers. The general still worked with the senate subcommittee to keep the research classified.
By the time I’d been bitten, the government had already been experimenting on werewolves for over thirty years. Only officials with top security clearance had access to the records of the government’s quest for super soldiers with enhanced strength, senses, and animal reflexes. But if Newport won the Senate seat and headed to Washington, we were all on borrowed time.
And if anyone spotted this wolf shifting back into a person, our time could run out.
Vera’s landing gear scraped the runaway as I decelerated and taxied down the airstrip toward my hangar. Once I parked the plane inside, I pulled out my cell and pressed Vance’s number. The Aussie was our Alpha’s right-hand man and a jaguar shifter like me, which meant he also wouldn’t be in wolf form tonight.
Vance picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Chandler. What’s up, mate?”
“There’s a werewolf in Phoenix.” I rested back against the seat. “Luckily it’s up on Lookout Mountain, but if someone finds it—”
“Shit. How do you know it’s a werewolf?”
“We don’t have wolves in Phoenix. Coyotes, sure, but no wolves.” The image of the lone white wolf staring up at the plane haunted me. “It also didn’t run when I buzzed over it in my plane.”
“How’d you find it?”
“I heard it howl when I got out of work.” I opened the cockpit door. “Maybe it’s just passing through? I don’t know what to think, but I know what I saw, and I thought Asher should know.”
“I’ll let him know as soon as he gets back from running with the pack.” Vance paused, then added, “Any luck finding out who is bankrolling Brad Newport’s campaign?”
“I’m having a meeting tomorrow night with someone who claims they have names for me. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks, Chandler. I’ll have Asher give you a call.”
“Okay.” I ended the call and put my cell in my pocket.
I slid the canopy back, climbed down from the cockpit, and went through the motions to lock e
verything up for the night while thoughts of the white wolf raced through my mind. As I left my hangar, my shadow stretched out under the light of the full moon. I stared into the darkness toward Lookout Mountain as another howl rent the air.
Something in the sound scratched a wound I kept buried deep in my soul. I understood that mournful cry. I’d been an outsider, too. Maybe deep down, I always would be.
CHAPTER 3
Wendy
I fished a few curls out of my updo, allowing them to fall and brush my shoulders. It had been years since I had dressed up like this. The dark rich tone of the emerald-green, crushed-velvet dress brought out my eyes. I inherited my mom’s silver eye color, and darker colors used to make her look almost otherworldly. I finished off my ensemble with a pair of glimmering Swarovski chandelier earrings and made a final check in the mirror.
As a teen, opening night of the opera had been thrilling. My mom and I would wear fancy dresses, eat at a swanky restaurant, and then surrender to the music and drama onstage. After Mom had died, Brock had taken her ticket and came with me, but he’d never found opera as magical as I did. And ever since a wolf had dragged my brother off and left me bitten, my season ticket seats sat empty.
Until this moment, I hadn’t realized how much I had missed it. I’d lost so many parts of myself over the past three years, I wasn’t sure who I was anymore.
I shoved the thoughts aside and grabbed my sleek black clutch on my way out the door. Mom used to hire a limo for our opening-night adventures, but I hadn’t continued the tradition. These days, attention was the last thing I wanted.
That was all about to change. Tonight I would meet a journalist and possibly spill the secret that had been eating me up from the inside out.
I slid into the driver’s seat of my black BMW and gripped the wheel, steeling myself for the night ahead. Evolution Defense hadn’t delivered on anything close to a cure in years, so it was time to take this to the next level.
The drive was a blur, and then I was I handing my keys to the valet at the opera house. The moment I opened my car door, the scents of perfume, hairspray, and humanity assaulted my heightened senses. I wobbled in my high heels under the weight of overstimulation.
The valet caught my arm, steadying me. “Are you all right?”
I nodded, eyeing his hand. He released me, and I forced a smile. “Thank you.” I left my car behind and stepped onto the red carpet.
With my ticket in hand, I skipped the photo op and scanned the crowd for any sign of Chandler Williams. I hadn’t told him my full name so he wouldn’t have been able to google me. That also meant he wouldn’t know who to look for. And that he might not show up. But it had been a risk I was willing to take. If I gave him my full name, he could’ve tracked me down and ambushed me at my car or my house. If I was going to give him this story, I wanted it to be on my terms.
Besides, if he didn’t show up, I’d take it as a sign. Maybe there was another option I hadn’t considered yet.
Now I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to be here or not.
The usher at the door scanned my ticket. “Welcome. Enjoy the show.”
I nodded, tucking the ticket back into my purse. “Thank you.”
“Wendy?” A woman with steel-gray short hair and a sharply tailored black tuxedo approached me with a vibrant grin. “It’s wonderful to see you! How have you been?”
An all too familiar glint of pity shone in her eyes.
I took her outstretched hand. “It’s great to see you too, Amy.”
Amy Tucker was the new general director of the Arizona Opera. Well, she probably wasn’t new anymore. I’d met her a few years ago when the company had thrown a welcome party to introduce her to the donors. Shortly after the gala, I’d been bitten. Everything changed.
Amy walked with me toward the theater doors. “Tonight’s production of Carmen is going to knock your socks off.” Her features softened. “We’ve missed you.”
“Thank you.” I forced a smile. “I couldn’t miss seeing Carmen.”
“I hope you’ll come backstage afterward. I’d love to introduce you to the cast.”
“Sounds good. Thanks, Amy.”
She wandered off to continue greeting patrons and donors, and I headed for the middle of the orchestra section. These were my mom’s season ticket seats. Who would I leave them to?
I rolled my eyes as I made my way down the aisle. I had bigger problems to address.
The second seat was empty, and my heart fell, which was stupid. What was wrong with me? Was I really so eager to ruin my life? No, I wanted a cure. Exposing myself as a werewolf was just a necessary evil to reach my ultimate goal.
Maybe I should have told him my last name after all. I had promised information about Brad Newport, but without my last name, Chandler would have no way to determine if I was a reliable source. Who could blame him for not showing up?
I settled into my seat and opened the program, skimming through the performer bios. This was a mistake. I never should have come here. Maybe I could sneak out. I glanced over my shoulder at the bustling house as people filled the seats, then back to the empty one beside me. The rest of the row was full. There was no way to escape without disrupting everyone to get out.
The strings in the pit started tuning, and I faced forward again trying to focus on the music and ignore the fact that I looked like I had dressed up for a date instead of a meeting with the press. Heat flushed my face as I smoothed my dress. A date? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been on one, but it definitely wasn’t with a reporter I had promised a big story to.
Apparently, I was lonelier than I had realized.
The orchestra finished tuning, and silence settled over the crowd while we waited for the conductor to enter the pit.
“Excuse me.”
A deep voice hit my sensitive ears, even though he was obviously attempting to keep his voice muffled. I glanced toward the end of the row to see Chandler Williams from CBS Phoenix making his way in my direction. My pulse raced.
Shit. He actually showed up.
He took the empty seat beside me and frowned. “Wendy?”
I nodded, confused by his expression. “Yes.” He didn’t offer his hand in introduction so I didn’t put mine out, either. “Were you expecting someone else?”
God, he was a million times more handsome in person than on television. He wore a well-cut black tuxedo, and the angles of his face could’ve been chiseled by Michelangelo himself. His scent was fresh and masculine, but…different. Not like any man I’d met before. Not that I ran around sniffing men, but I had learned there was a scent all humans had, a pheromone or something I’d come to recognize. But his was fundamentally unique somehow. Almost feline. Maybe he had cats?
Okay, stop it.
I was most definitely lonely and desperately out of practice with dating.
Not that this was a date.
His piercing blue eyes moved over my face as he shook his head. “No, it’s not that…” He cleared his throat, glancing around at the people around us. “This doesn’t seem like a good place to talk.”
Applause filled the theater as the maestro entered and waved his baton with a florid bow. I leaned in without touching him and whispered, “I was going for very public.”
He nodded and gave a soft chuckle. “Mission accomplished.”
The lights came up on the stage, and I was stunned by how bright the colors looked, the sharpness of them. Between having the ability to hear and articulate the subtle nuances of even the softest viola harmony, and the oboe line hidden within the fabric of the symphony, I sat transfixed. When the singing began, a tear slipped from the corner of my eye.
I had always loved opera, but now it was so strikingly beautiful I couldn’t contain my emotions. I had never realized what I’d been missing since I’d been bitten. Maybe being a werewolf wasn’t completely awful. That wouldn’t stop me from finding a cure, though.
During the “Habanera” aria, I stole a glance over
at Chandler, half expecting to find the journalist on his phone, but he seemed entranced by the magic of Carmen, as well. He didn’t even notice me looking at him.
I focused on the stage again as a smile crept up on me. The curve of my lips seemed foreign. How long had it been since a smile had come naturally? Too long.
At intermission, I turned toward him and raised a brow. “I think I probably owe you a more private place to talk. Do you want to get out of here?”
His attention shifted to the stage, then back to my face. “You’re willing to leave early on opening night of Carmen?”
“Willing, maybe, but I’d, of course, rather stay if you’ve got time…” I tried not to hold my breath.
“My schedule is clear for tonight.” His gaze wandered over my face. “This is my first opera.”
“Oh…” I grinned, and managed not to pull an atrophied cheek muscle. “Then we can’t leave.” For a second, I forgot this wasn’t a date again. I sobered. “I’m sorry you’re giving up your whole night. This was rude of me.”
“Not rude.” He shook his head. “Different.” He started to smile, and his blue eyes shimmered as the house lights flashed to bring everyone back to their seats. “I have so many questions, but only a couple are about Brad Newport.”
He stared at me like he expected me to say something, but I wasn’t sure what. “I guess we’ll have plenty to talk about, then.”
“Definitely.” He tapped his program against his thigh.
I still felt as if I was missing something. The maestro returned, saving me from anymore awkward conversation.
As the music unfolded, I forgot about the man sitting beside me, about being a werewolf in need of a cure. I was in the mountaintops with Carmen and her band of thieves, holding my breath as we headed toward inescapable tragedy.
When the curtain closed for the final time, I shot to my feet. “Brava!”
I wasn’t the only one. The whole theater was on their feet, including Chandler Williams. He stood so close I could almost feel the heat of his body. I clapped while the chorus and supporting cast came out for their bows, but when the mezzo who played Carmen took center stage, I cheered. It was a challenging role that always begged the question, did she really beguile Don José, or did he have that dark side that needed to possess her from the beginning? Was she a siren luring him to his doom, or was she the victim of fate, of the cards she’d been dealt?
