Wild Wolf Chasing

by Rhyannon Byrd

  “You really think they’re still looking for me?” she asked, seeming to have trouble taking her gaze off his bare arms, her attention making his muscles tighten with hunger, his thick veins pressing up beneath his skin.

  “I’d bet my life on it,” he muttered, forcing his attention onto their surroundings, where it belonged. He wished the damn snow would stop falling, since it was making it impossible to scent anything in the night air.

  “Here. Take your jacket back. You’re only wearing a T-shirt and it’s—Max!” she screamed, just as he caught the flash of something charging at him from the side. A heavy, bulky body slammed into him, taking him to the ground, the force of the impact sliding them over the gritty asphalt, until they slammed into the side of her truck.

  “Get in the truck and start the engine!” he shouted, hoping like hell that Vivian was doing as he said as he rolled the blond bastard onto his back and slammed his fist into his jaw with every ounce of strength he possessed, then did it again, the second strike knocking the guy out. Quickly moving back to his feet, Max turned to check on her, but another bastard charged him from the shadows, this one taller and even stronger than the blond, his eyes the same eerie black, like a shark’s. They hit the ground, rolling across the asphalt and straight into the woodland that lined two sides and the back of the sprawling parking lot, before breaking apart and facing off. This close, he could scent the musky odor of the male’s body, which would have clued him in on the fact the guy wasn’t human, even if the prick hadn’t just tried to slash him open with a short, deadly set of claws.

  “You’re gonna have to be faster than that,” he bit out, while a deep, eviscerating rage coiled inside him with the thought of what these two men were there for. Vivian. His life mate. The woman he was meant to protect with his dying breath, whether he’d claimed her or not. It was his single most important responsibility. The thing that now defined his very existence, and no matter how broken his relationship was with that primal, animalistic part of him, in this they were completely aligned.

  He had a 9mm Glock stored in the glove box of his truck, but didn’t waste time going for it, since bullets couldn’t be trusted to do anything more than slow non-humans down. And he needed these sleazebags dead, not limping.

  Stepping to the side to avoid another vicious swipe of the tall one’s claws, Max cast a quick glance back toward the lot, hoping to spot Vivian through the trees. Instead, his vision was filled with the blond, who was back on his feet and rushing toward them. The guy still looked a bit sluggish from the knock-out blow that Max had dealt him, but with his sharp fangs and claws released, he seemed ready to do some serious damage.

  “Shit,” he growled under his breath as he released his own lethally sharp claws and fangs. He knew he was taking a massive risk by letting them free, given that a human could too easily come upon them at any time, if they happened to be parked in that part of the lot and heard the fighting. And not only that, but there was a strong chance that Vivian could still see them through the trees, if she was watching the fight through the front windshield of her truck, no doubt terrified out of her mind by what she was seeing.

  So let’s finish this quickly and get the hell back to her.

  In a rare moment of total agreement with his wolf, Max gave a low, deadly growl as he faced off against the two jackasses who stood in front of him. He didn’t have a clue what species they were, but the bloodlust on their faces was enough for him to know the fight was going to be anything but easy. They charged forward before he’d drawn his next breath, and he got in a powerful strike to the tall one’s side, only to have the blond catch him a forceful kick to his kidney. Max hit the ground on one knee, hard, and wanted to kick his own ass for letting the dick get in such a good shot. Surging back to his feet, he rushed the fuckers with the sole intent of ending this shit as quickly as possible, so he could get Vivian the hell away from there. God only knew what she must be thinking. The poor girl was probably hunkered down inside her truck, terrified out of her skull.

  He delivered a bone-crunching kick to the tall one’s chest that knocked him down, then quickly moved behind the blond, grabbed his head, and twisted the guy’s neck sharply to the left, breaking it with a loud, resonating crack. A sound to his right warned him the tall one was back on his feet before Max even turned his head, and he swung his body around with a powerful roundhouse kick, satisfaction pouring through his veins when he heard the sickening crunch of bone as he connected with the guy’s knee. The male roared with pain, but refused to go down, launching himself at Max with claws extended. He snarled when the bastard tried to tear his throat out, only just managing to avoid the deadly swipe of his claws as the sound of an engine roared to life from somewhere in the parking lot, followed immediately by another.

  “After I deal with your mangy ass, wolf, there’s going to be nothing standing between me and the brunette bitch.” A slow smile spread across the guy’s fang-filled mouth. “And she’s gonna pay for what she did to us.”

  It was then that Max realized the male had wounds that were fresh, but already healing. Gouges were visible at the side of his throat and on one cheek, the deep cuts extending back into his buzz cut. Ones that had been made that night, but not by Max.

  Christ, had Vivian been the one to make them? And if so, how? What the hell was going on? And how dare this ugly jackass threaten his woman!

  With a burst of rage unlike anything he’d ever felt, Max barreled into the male and took him to the ground, a savage, guttural animal-sound ripping up from his chest as he shoved the male’s claw-tipped arms to the ground and went directly for his throat, tearing it out with one gruesome bite. Then he took the male’s head between his hands and twisted, severing his spinal column with one brutal jerk.

  Moving back to his feet, Max hung there over the body for a few weighted seconds, lungs heaving, his entire torso and face dripping with blood, and tried to think of what to do next. Of what he was going to say to her. Because even though he knew these assholes had most likely released their fangs and claws when they’d attacked Vivian at her apartment, it was different when it came to him. He didn’t want her terrified of him. He wanted her to…

  Shit. He didn’t even know how to finish that thought. But it was probably best not to even think about what he wanted from her at the moment, since it would only complicate things. And they were already complicated enough as it was.

  Needing to assure himself she was safe, he finally jolted into action, quickly dragging the bodies a little deeper into the woods. Then he retracted his fangs and claws, took the blond one’s jacket off him, using it to wipe away as much of the blood as he could, and hurried back to her.

  Only, when he came out of the trees, there was no “her” to hurry back to.

  Vivian Jackson wasn’t sitting inside the cab of her truck in the dark parking lot, screaming hysterically and waiting for an explanation.

  She wasn’t waiting for anything.

  Because the goddamn girl was gone.

  Chapter Two

  Hot Pink and Covered in Glitter

  The gaudy, all-night strip club wasn’t the worst place Vivian Jackson had ever been in, but it was hardly the best. Hot pink and covered in glitter, with the scent of cheap booze thick on every surface she’d come into contact with, from the menu, to the tabletop, to the velvet-covered cushion she was sitting on. Even the Christmas tinsel hanging from the walls was pink, as well as the miniature snowmen that decorated the tabletops, which just seemed wrong, as if they’d been made with bloody snow. Still, it was a chance to survive the night, since she planned on hiding in her corner booth until daylight, and then making a run for it.

  It’d been just a little over two hours since she’d left Max Doucet fighting for his life in those moonlit woods beside that dark parking lot, and she felt like crap for it. She should be formulating some kind of kick-ass plan—not that she had a clue how to do that—instead of sitting there, sucking down her second diet coke, and thin
king about him. She’d be terrified he was lying dead on the snow-covered ground, if not for the fact that he’d been calling her. Repeatedly. Until she finally turned her phone off again.

  So instead of worrying about his safety, or what she’d seen, or even her own wellbeing, she just kept thinking about ridiculous things, like how beautiful his eyes had been, the blue so deep and rich they’d reminded her of fresh denim. She even liked the faint lines that fanned out at the corners, and the freaking dimple that had appeared in his tanned, stubble-covered cheek when he’d smirked at her.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a date, which meant her body was no doubt going through some serious withdrawal. Not that she’d ever found sex to be the great source of life-altering ecstasy that other people did, like the ones Skye read about in her romance novels. But it had at least been a way to feel close to someone, if only for a little while. To grab a few stolen moments of pleasure when she wasn’t working herself to the bone to get by.

  And the guy was gorgeous, no denying that. But what in God’s name was her problem? This wasn’t some slasher movie, where the ditsy heroine forgot about being in danger just long enough to bang it out with the handsome, well-hung hero, who was rarely a hero at all. She needed to be thinking about what the hell she was going to do next!

  But she suspected the real reason she couldn’t get the sexy-as-sin Max Doucet out of her head wasn’t that she needed to get laid, but that she was desperate for a distraction. And not from the fear, though God only knew she was feeling plenty of that at the moment, both for her sanity and her safety. No, she needed something to keep her mind from the sickening, nauseating guilt that kept slithering through her insides, threatening to turn her stomach inside out.

  “Greed kills,” her Gran was fond of saying, and Vivian feared she was learning that particular lesson a little too late.

  “Sorry, Gran,” she murmured under her breath, keenly aware of just how badly she’d screwed up. And all for some extra cash she’d wanted to use on Christmas presents for her mom, little brothers, grandmother, and Skye. Jesus, she was like some pathetic poster child for what happened when women took their safety for granted and ended up helpless and on their own.

  Not that I was particularly helpless back at the apartment, she thought, quickly shaking her head to knock the unsettling memories away, her body shuddering.

  No! I’m not thinking about it.

  Hell, she might never think about it. The entire thing had been like a nightmare, complete with monsters and blood and pain. And the suffocating confusion, her body feeling like it wasn’t her own, her feet moving faster than they ever had before. Too fast. And her body too strong, furniture breaking beneath her feet as she’d fought against them. Fought and struggled and tried not to die some horrible, grisly death. Her control slipping further and further away…

  Enough already! Stop!!!

  “Right,” she whispered on a shaky breath, so tired she just wanted to curl into a ball on the seat and drift away. It was why she’d risked stopping again and hiding out in the club, too worried that she’d fall asleep behind the wheel and cause an accident, putting even more lives at risk.

  And I’ve already done enough of that for one night.

  Pushing her empty plate aside, Vivian was surprised that she’d actually been able to eat, given everything that had happened. But she’d been weirdly starved, her need for food as heightened as her senses had been since the fight. She was seeing colors and shapes with more vibrancy and definition than seemed humanly possible. Even her hearing seemed sharper, her sense of taste more acute. All of which was just weirding her out even more than she already was, her body buzzing and her mind…uneasy.

  Pulling the paper napkin she’d scribbled on earlier to the place where her plate had been, she studied the message from Skye that she’d copied from her phone before powering it down.

  Please call me when you can. So worried about you! And please let Max help. I met him and trust him. X

  The message made her feel as shitty as it did the first twenty times that she’d read it, and she closed her eyes, fighting against the hot sting of tears that were burning at the back of her throat. Her weakness was just one more thing to piss her off, seeing as how she hated to cry. It was just one of the many lessons her dad had ingrained in her from an early age, until the day he bailed and never came back.

  Don’t ever let anyone see you cry. Crying’s for the weak.

  Don’t ever look for a fight you’re not ready for. But always fight to live.

  And her all-time favorite: Don’t ever trust a cop. Only trust yourself.

  She imagined dear old dad was the reason she still hadn’t driven her ass to a police station and told them what had happened. Well, that, and the fact that if she actually told them the truth, they’d probably lock her in a padded cell for the night. Or forever.

  She wondered if her dad would consider a private investigator the same as a cop, or if he’d have appreciated the gorgeous Max Doucet trying to come to his daughter’s rescue. Whether she deserved it or not.

  When her nose suddenly twitched, her scalp prickling with sensation, she quickly opened her eyes to the sight of the PI himself walking straight toward her. Ohmygod! She was torn between cringing at the look of raw, hard-cut fury on his handsome face, and whooping for joy that he’d managed to find her again.

  And, damn, did he look hot, even with the blood-stained T-shirt she could see beneath the leather jacket she’d left in the parking lot for him. Whatever else the guy might be, he was unarguably fine. Tall, dark and ruggedly handsome, his body and face like freaking works of art.

  She watched through narrowed eyes as he slid into the opposite side of the booth, his long legs barely fitting in the cramped space. “How did you find me?” she asked, her voice sounding unusually husky.

  “The truth?” he murmured, looking outrageously handsome against the backdrop of pink walls and glittering lights. “I put a tracker on your truck.”

  “A tracker? You had no right!”

  He arched one raven brow at her. “I’m here to help, Vivian. Whether you like it or not.”

  “The answer is definitely NOT.”

  “Yeah?” he asked with a gritty laugh. “You’d have rather dealt with those assholes back in the parking lot on your own. Is that it?”

  No, that wasn’t it at all. But she refused to be responsible for dragging yet another innocent into this nightmare, even if he was more equipped to deal with it than she was. Not that there was anything “innocent” looking about this guy. He was like sex on a stick. And not the sweet, missionary kind. No, his chiseled face and ripped body screamed the raw, aggressive, pounding a woman into one screaming orgasm after another kind of sexual experience that she’d always wanted, but never had.

  “Look, Max. You seem like a nice…guy”—yeah, after what she’d seen him do, that word almost got stuck in her throat—“and you’ve already had to deal with enough crap because of me. So do yourself a favor and just go.”

  His head tilted a bit to the side as he studied her, his blue gaze so piercing it made her shiver. She felt like he was looking right inside her, down to the deep, dark, secret things she never shared from her nightmares. Not even with Skye.

  As if he’d read her mind, he quietly said, “Skye’s safe, by the way. Elliot got her up to the safe house.”

  She sagged back against the seat with relief. “Good.”

  “You know, you look pretty calm for someone who just discovered there are monsters in the world.”

  A soft, bitter laugh jerked up from her chest, and she took another drink of her soda. She was upset, but she wasn’t so far gone that she was going to talk about that with him.

  “What do you know, Vivian?”

  “Not a damn thing.” She gave another shaky laugh, but it sounded brittle even to her own ears, and she knew he wasn’t buying it.

  “If you won’t talk to me, I’ll be forced to call Skye for some ans
wers.”

  “Go ahead,” she shot back, glaring at him. “She won’t be able to tell you anything.”

  A frown knitted its way between his dark brows, and she could have sworn there was a light burning within those incredible blue eyes, the outer edges turning gold. Before she could recall her stance on the subject, she heard herself ask, “So what are you, exactly?”

  “Why should I talk when you won’t?”

  She leaned forward, bracing her crossed arms on the table. “Because unless you were feeding me a serious load of bullshit earlier, and somehow got my bestie in on the lie, you’re here because you want to be my own personal protection service, complete with a pretty face and a hard body.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment,” she snapped.

  He flashed her a deliciously sexy, crooked smile that was so hot it almost melted her down. “Sounded like one to me, sweetheart.”

  “Only if you care about superficial looks.” She was itching to pick a fight, if only so that she didn’t have to think about all the other scary stuff going on in her life at the moment. “Is that what you care about? Pretty faces and hard bodies?”

  He smirked. “You gonna keep doing this all night?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Trying to start shit with me. Because we really don’t have the time for it.”

  She bristled, hating that he’d called her on her own bullshit so easily, and shot him a look that would have shriveled a lesser man. But then, he wasn’t really a man at all. After what she’d seen, she knew that much.