by Zoe Chant
She couldn’t believe how irresponsible she’d been. No―they both had been irresponsible, doing it like love-struck teenagers unable to keep from tearing each other’s clothes off. She’d never imagined that one day, she’d meet a man like this. A man she needed to feel inside her right there at the lake, with their skin still wet from the water and the sun shining down onto their bare bodies.
She blushed and bit back a grin. She rather liked being the sort of person who would do that.
“You’re late,” she murmured and shook her head. She turned off the oven. She had prepared a quick casserole; she figured he’d be hungry after his walk and the pleasurable workout they’d engaged in before.
Again she bit back a grin, but then the sheep were bleating again, and she sighed deeply.
When she ventured outside to make sure that Desmond hadn’t turned into a bear by accident right in the middle of her sheep, she found the courtyard empty. The two visiting families were still out at the river fishing; she didn’t expect them back until the afternoon. The meadow was empty except for the sheep. She couldn’t see anything that would explain their restlessness.
Was a fox trying to get to the chickens again?
A soft growl resounded from nearby. When she turned, she found that Lenny had woken. The old dog was no longer asleep in the shadow of the old chestnut. Instead he was standing, ears flat, lips raised to show his teeth, growling at some invisible enemy.
Lisa felt a shudder run through her, as though a cold hand had touched her back.
Suddenly she felt watched. Something was out there. She couldn’t say what or how she knew, but all of her senses whispered danger. The bunny deep within her had sat up, tense with an anxiety she had never felt before.
Something’s wrong.
When she walked into the meadow where the sheep were waiting, the feeling grew in intensity. A prickling between her shoulder blades, a sudden, wordless fear that made her think of pressing herself to the damp earth of the burrow beneath the tree’s roots, hiding from the paws of a predator…
She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.
That was when the wolf attacked.
It came flying at her out of the high grass, growling, teeth bared, and just barely missed her when she threw herself to the side. Instinct made her roll, trying to escape the reach of the jaw snapping at her feet. Her heart was pounding. She scuttled backwards. She couldn’t think, could only react.
The sheep were bleating loudly now, and she heard Lenny’s barking―could Lenny fight off a wolf?
The bunny inside her was terrified. It called for her to shift, to make herself small and invisible and hide from the wolf’s sharp fangs in a tunnel deep beneath the earth.
But Lisa fought that urge down. Terror was clenching around her heart, but as a human, at least she had her size and strength as a weapon. She couldn’t shift, not now, with those teeth so close. The wolf would be able to kill a bunny with one bite!
Should have been born a bear, she thought dizzily as she crawled back further.
The wolf had stopped and turned. Then her back hit the fence, and the wolf growled in triumph and came forward.
Again Lisa threw herself to the side, praying that once more, she’d been fast enough―and in the same moment when she felt sharp teeth scrape along her arm, a dark leg shot past her head from behind the fence.
She heard a loud yelp. The wolf’s teeth were gone, and when she turned her head, she found the animal motionless in the grass.
Next to her, held back only by the fence, stood Lancelot, eyes rolling and nostrils wide as he blew out air in a loud snort. He shook his head wildly, stomping the ground, then reared a little in threat.
The wolf remained motionless.
“You knocked it out,” Lisa said shakily and stared, then pulled herself up, still out of breath. This was the second time today that she’d barely escaped death by a predator’s teeth.
Of course, the incident with Desmond didn’t really count―but on the other hand, she’d been convinced then that he wanted to eat her.
And this wolf had definitely intended to attack her. She had the scrapes on her arm to prove it.
Lisa exhaled deeply. Her hand was shaking as she wiped her hair out of her face, and then, resolute, she poked the wolf with her boot.
No reaction. Good. But what do I do with an unconscious wolf? Not just a wolf―a werewolf! It has to be!
She couldn’t even say what gave it away. He smelled wrong, perhaps, at least to the bunny in her. He didn’t smell like a wolf should, of wildness and pines and running through a forest. No, the small animal in her that had been born with keen senses to keep it safe from predators felt a different sort of fear.
Unwashed men. Loud bikes. Gasoline. Spilled whiskey.
The wolf felt human to her bunny―human, but still wild and dangerous.
Werewolf, she thought again and then shuddered.
She hadn’t seen any shifters since her grandparents died. She hadn’t felt any need to search them out. No one in her family had been born a shifter except for Lisa. She had been the only one with this unwanted gift. And it wasn’t even a useful one! What good was a bunny? She knew there were more people like her out there―but did a bunny mingle with wolves or lions or bears?
No, it had felt wrong to her. And Lisa hadn’t wanted any of that anyway. She’d always known what she wanted, even as a child. She wanted this farm. She wanted happiness, on her own terms. Land that belonged to her. Animals she kept fed and happy and safe by her own hard work.
And she’d wanted nothing to do with a world where she was a trembling, small bunny. That wasn’t who she wanted to be.
But now, with a mate who was a werebear, and an unconscious werewolf at her feet, it seemed that this world had found her after all.
“Good boy,” she told Lancelot, who was still proudly prancing up and down the fence.
After some deliberation, she dragged the werewolf into Lenny’s kennel and locked it. Lenny took up position in front to guard it. The strange urgency in her still hadn’t gone away. In fact, it had grown stronger, and Lisa looked at her watch once more.
Desmond still hadn’t returned. Desmond had been gone for far too long, and a werewolf had attacked her. Lisa might not be an expert when it came to shifter things, but by now she was pretty certain that there was a connection.
Grandma always knew when something was wrong with grandpa, she thought while she restlessly paced up and down her courtyard. My mate is in danger. I can feel it. I can feel him.
Desmond needed her help. She really couldn’t say how she knew. It was as if some giant hand had taken hold of her heart and now pulled her forward by it.
When she followed the pull, it led her back into the meadow with her sheep. They had calmed a little, although they were still giving her sullen stares. Clearly her sheep were not happy that Lisa had allowed a wolf to intrude.
She turned away from them. The ache in her heart pulled her onward and onward, into the direction from which the wolf had attacked.
She could still feel his presence. She could still smell him, even though she wasn’t sure if that was the right word, because the scent should be too faint for a human nose.
But perhaps now, for the first time, she needed to trust the instincts of the bunny instead of the sense of the human…
She took a deep breath. She closed her eyes. She concentrated on the scent of the green grass, the breeze on her face, the warmth of the sun. Home. This was her home. And it was the home of the bunny as well, who loved these meadows and fields just as much as Lisa did, even though Lisa had always been reluctant to let the bunny run free.
Perhaps, deep in her heart, she had been ashamed of that animal part inside her, and more ashamed that it was a small, vulnerable animal when all her life she’d worked so hard to prove that she could run this farm on her own.
But the bunny wasn’t helpless. Had the bear been real, it would have saved her life when it
took over and made her hide. And its instincts had also warned her about the wolf.
She forced herself to relax. She allowed that small seed of wildness in her heart to grow: the love for all things green and growing, the protectiveness for her mate, the fierce sense of belonging to this place, her home.
She breathed in again. This time, the scent of wolf was overwhelming, and so was the instinctual fear. But the need to find her mate was just as strong, and it led her forward.
When she opened her eyes, she was crouching in the grass, a small bunny hidden beneath the sprouting dandelions. The sheep were towering above her. When Lancelot came racing by on the other side of the fence, she could feel the ground vibrate beneath her.
Let’s go and find our mate, she thought and twitched her nose.
Chapter Eight
Desmond
The drive back to the werewolves’ lair in one of the pack’s trucks was a tense affair. Desmond kept telling himself that if these wolves had indeed figured out who he was, and that the Council of Shifters had sent him here, they’d be careful to keep him alive. Terrorizing humans was one thing. Starting an open war against the Council―even Carter couldn’t be that stupid. One small pack of werewolves against the Council that represented all shifters in the state?
If it was necessary, the Council could call upon ten werewolf packs to wipe this one out of existence. Carter had to know that. Such a thing would cause attention the Council wanted to avoid. That was why the usual tactic consisted of sending a solitary shifter like Desmond in to bring back the pack leader to find justice. But if the Council had to―and killing Desmond would certainly force their hand―they would enforce retribution quickly and with all their strength.
Which meant that for now, Desmond was indeed ready to believe that Carter wanted to talk. Talk as in using Desmond as a hostage, because why else bring him back alive to their lair―but Desmond could deal with that, as long as Lisa was safe.
Let the Council settle it. Or perhaps Charles, that insufferable lion, would think to check up on the situation if Desmond didn’t call this evening.
Even now Desmond felt a rush of injured pride at the thought that Charles might have to come and bail him out, but he swallowed it down. He had a mate to think of now. He would do anything, no matter what, to keep her safe.
Desmond was relieved to notice that the pack seemed to be fully gathered to drag him off the truck when they finally stopped. It was the old barn where he had observed them before. Quickly, he counted before they pushed him inside. Ten wolves. If his information had been correct, that meant that they’d spoken the truth: they’d left the farm alone.
Unless they’d hurt Lisa before they caught up with him…
Even thinking about it made his heart ache fiercely, and he forced the pain away to concentrate on the matter at hand. If he wanted to help Lisa, he needed to be smart now, find a way to outwit Carter and either flee or kill him.
Be safe, mate, he thought, thinking once more of her smile and the way her eyes had lit up when she had helped the children paint their eggs. Be safe. Be strong. I’m coming back to you.
The inside of the barn was dusty. Bales of hay were piled up in one corner, but there wasn’t the usual mess he expected in a rogue pack’s lair: no empty bottles, no drunk wolves comatose in a corner, no stash of stolen goods. Instead, there was a large cage in the middle of the barn. Strong steel―a kennel meant for a large dog, perhaps, or to transport a wild animal. Desmond felt the growl of his bear deep in his chest as he realized what was going on.
They’d planned this. They’d lured him out here to make him believe they’d found a new hide-away―but all along they had planned to trap him here.
Which had to mean that his guess was right. They had caught wind of the Council’s decision, or perhaps had simply realized that sooner or later, the Council would send an enforcer. So, he was to be hostage. That was… not good. Not good at all.
The bear in him was raging at the thought that the werewolves wanted to trap him. But at the same time, if Carter was smart enough to want to bargain with the Council, then that had to mean that he’d leave Lisa alone…
“In you go,” a gleeful voice called out.
Out of the gloom that filled the back of the barn, a figure stepped. When the man came closer, Desmond was not surprised at all to find himself face-to-face with Carter.
The alpha werewolf was smiling, although the sight wasn’t reassuring at all. Carter had a gun in his hand, and now nodded at the large cage again.
“You’re going to be our guest for a while. I would apology for the lack of comfort, but―to say the truth, I don’t fucking care. It’s not like you Council people care about our comfort.”
His men jeered. Desmond could hear the clinking of bottles, but he didn’t take his eyes off the gun. Again Carter pointed at the cage.
With gritted teeth, Desmond moved into the kennel. Immediately, a few of Carter’s men came forward and locked it. His bear was still roaring in his head, but Desmond forced himself to ignore the rage bubbling beneath his skin. He had to be very careful now. He couldn’t make a mistake, not with his mate’s life at stake.
“So. You wanted to chat,” Desmond said. “I’m all ears.”
“Oh, you misunderstood. I didn’t want to chat with you.” Carter grinned and casually sauntered closer, although he stopped just out of reach in front of the cage. “It’s your boss I want to chat with. I’m going to offer the Council a deal. A deal I’m sure they’ll want to take. So. You’re gonna call your boss for me now, and as long as you behave, we’ll keep you alive. We might even spare your girlfriend’s tasty little lambs.”
Carter made a mocking face when Desmond exploded forward in rage, snarling against the bars that trapped him.
“Or, you know. If you refuse to let us talk to your boss, maybe we’ll leave you here and return to the farm for a little hunt…” Carter’s grin was wide, showing teeth yellowed from smoke.
“Bastard,” Desmond hissed. “Alright, give me a phone and I’ll make a call for you.”
“And no tricks,” Carter warned as he fished his phone from a pocket and held it through the bars. “Think of your poor girlfriend.”
Desmond clenched his jaw and dialed the number for his emergency contact.
"It's Desmond," he said curtly once someone picked up. "I'm in a bit of trouble. Connect me to the lion."
He could hear how Martha, a brisk cat shifter who had handled a few other emergencies for him, hesitated. That wasn't how these jobs usually worked. Desmond didn't get to call the Council for a chat. There were meetings he was invited to, yes―but this violated all usual procedures.
"Now, Martha," he said firmly. "I mean it."
"Sure, Desmond," she said easily, although he could hear the concern in her voice.
Martha was a smart girl. With any luck, she'd contact Charles before Carter had even finished his chat with the Council. And if Charles were to look into what trouble Desmond had managed to find, his steps would lead him straight to Lisa's farm.
Wait for Charles, he begged his mate silently. Please be safe.
"Desmond," a familiar voice sounded in his ear. It was James Kennedy, a lion shifter, and a member of the Council of Shifters.
The man was also Charles' father, although age had smoothed some of the aloof arrogance in him which sometimes caused tension between Desmond and Charles.
"What's this emergency I hear about?" James asked.
Desmond gave Carter a little nod to signal that he had the Council on line. "I have someone here who wants to talk to you. It's Carter," he said quietly.
He wasn't at all surprised to hear James sharply inhale. "You OK, boy?"
There weren't many who could call Desmond Brown, bear shifter and enforcer of the Council, boy and live to tell the tale. But James had been a friend of Desmond's father, and he'd known Desmond since he was a cub.
"Yeah. For now," he said.
Then Carter grabbed the phon
e out of his hand.
"Well, well,” Carter said with a smirk. “Finally we get to chat. Heard you set a hitman on me. That's not nice. Not nice at all."
Desmond couldn't hear what James had to answer to that, but he saw Carter snarl silently and straighten.
"Enough pleasantries," Carter growled after a moment. “Let's get down to business.”
Desmond strained to hear more, but now Carter was walking away from him. The wolf nodded at a few of the other warriors who came forward to keep watch over him.
Three wolves against one bear. Not impossible at all, Desmond thought. If I can get out of the cage...
He inspected the iron bars. They looked sturdy. He leaned against one―there was no give, not even when, shielded by his body, he wrapped his hand around a bar and pulled.
For once, Carter had planned well. The kennel had clearly been meant to hold a strong animal.
Did that asshole break into a zoo and steal a bear transporter?
He smiled grimly at the thought. He wouldn't put it past Carter. Well, soon enough Carter would be behind bars himself. If there were no other ways to find a solution, the Council would lock Carter up if they had to. They couldn't put a werewolf into a human jail, after all; nor could they trust human justice with such a case.
And after this, Desmond would definitely enjoy it to see Carter brought to justice.
Again he clenched his hands around the bars. Could the cage hold a bear? He’d never tested his strength against iron bars before…
Chapter Nine
Lisa
Lisa breathed in deeply, her nose twitching as she inhaled the scents that surrounded her. To the senses of a bunny, the route the wolf had taken was obvious.
Her legs were long and strong. She’d been born to race across a field. She’d been born to be free, to breathe in the wind and stretch out in the sunshine and nibble on dandelions. And now, she ran.
As she hastened across a field and then jumped a small creek, she realized that she’d been wrong to deny this part of her for so long. There was nothing small and vulnerable about her now. She was on the hunt―on the hunt for those who had taken her mate from her.
