First Bite (The Dark Wolf Series)

by Dani Harper

  “Never mind what it is. You wanna live, get the hell in.”

  All too mindful that Meredith’s wolves were behind them, Neva leaped into the cab of the truck and paced the bench seat. There’s no keys!

  Travis slid behind the wheel and slammed the door behind him. “Push-button start.” The diesel engine suddenly thundered awake, and he threw it into gear. Gravel flew as they erupted from the farmhouse laneway in a cloud of black smoke. In the side mirror, Neva saw something else fly, too. Strange bright-pink pebbles pinged off the dirt road behind them.

  “Goddammit, it’s loaded,” Travis said without even looking, and shifting gears as quickly as he dared. “We’ll never get up enough speed if I don’t get rid of whatever’s in the bed.”

  Looks like bubble gum.

  “What?” He glanced at his mirror and pounded the steering wheel in frustration. “Christ, that’s all we need.”

  Why? What is it?

  “Seed. It’s frickin’ treated seed. Coated with fungicide, fertilizer, whatever.”

  The implications were clear. It was like leaving a trail of fluorescent-pink breadcrumbs for Meredith’s enforcers to follow—assuming the truck could manage enough speed to get out of sight. Can’t we just dump it?

  “It takes time, and we don’t have any.” He frowned as he drove, and Neva wondered if that was his natural expression. It seemed to her that his brows were furrowed more often than not. Maybe his face was just naturally fierce, but she knew it was capable of displaying other emotions—when she’d come to her senses after her first Change, he’d been holding her and laughing as if she’d just done the most fantastic thing ever. And when he’d been carrying her into the elevator at the hospital, he’d been downright charming even while annoying the hell out of her. In spite of the fact that he lived in a near-constant state of being pissed off, and insisted on trying to boss her around at every turn, part of her had noticed from the beginning that Travis Williamson was a very attractive man.

  And what a completely stupid thing to think about when five of Meredith’s mindless wolves were on their trail and—

  A gigantic gray wolf leaped up at Neva’s window, and the impact caused a starburst of cracks in the glass before the creature fell away.

  “Shit!” Travis yelled as he swung the wheel and the heavy truck wobbled crazily. He punched a button on the dash. “Get down on the floor and brace yourself, now.”

  Not sure what to expect, Neva complied, tucking herself tightly beneath the dashboard and shielding her face with her tail for good measure, although she peered at Travis with one eye. He gripped the wheel tightly, and she could feel a new vibration thrumming through the steel frame of the truck all around her. Belatedly she realized he was raising the truck bed. Are you crazy? We’re going too fast!

  “No choice. Hang on!”

  Neva closed her eyes. The truck groaned throughout as if protesting the speed, too, but Travis didn’t slow down in the least. She heard the loud hiss and scrape of the load as it began to shift and slide from the steel bed, and she tried to imagine the cascade of pink bouncing onto the road—no way was she going to climb up and look. As the vehicle swayed and shivered, Neva shivered as well and scrunched farther under the dash until the glove box popped open and made her jump.

  A huge crash against her door nearly gave her heart failure, and the inside panel bulged inward.

  “One of them’s fast. Hope he got a headache that time. Just stay down.”

  As the hissing of the sliding load became louder, the vibrations got worse. She imagined the dump-truck engineers—Hey, let’s design a truck that can be unloaded at fifty miles per hour.

  Not.

  Her heightened senses told her that the truck’s weight had shifted dramatically and the front wheels weren’t as firmly on the pavement as they had been just a few moments ago. What if they tipped over? Could werewolves survive car wrecks?

  Even as the monstrous vehicle rattled and shook, the irony didn’t escape Neva. Once desperate to end her life, she was now hoping like crazy not to die. And if she did, she was so going to haunt Travis to the very end of his goddamn days.

  A loud yelp emerged above the noise of the groaning hydraulics and sliding grain.

  “Eat that, you son of a bitch,” Travis said through gritted teeth.

  The loud hiss of the seed leaving the truck tapered off at long last and finally ended. She dared to open her eyes just in time to see Travis reach for the dashboard controls. The hydraulics protested even louder, and the tone of the vibrations changed. She could feel the center of gravity shifting, feel the truck wanting to fishtail. Travis strained to hold the wheel steady, and a moment later, there was a huge, teeth-rattling thump as the steel bed returned to its rightful place on the truck, followed by a deafening clang as the tailgate swung shut.

  They weren’t dead. Not even trapped in a flaming pile of twisted steel.

  Neva allowed herself the luxury of a real breath as anger rushed in to replace her relief. If she was in human form, she’d verbally chew Travis a new one for his insanely risky stunt. Of course, the downside was that she would be naked again, hardly a position of strength. As she climbed back into the passenger seat, she concluded that mental shouting would just have to do—until she looked at him. Travis was frowning, of course. He was also sweating. His powerful hands were clenched hard enough on the steering wheel to whiten his knuckles, and she watched as he slowly relaxed them and slid his palms up and down the wheel. The wheel that was no longer round.

  You were scared, too.

  “Hell yeah,” he snarled at her. “Only a lunatic wouldn’t be scared shitless. But we had to do something fast.”

  They didn’t even slow down as they ran the stop sign. The big dump truck rolled straight ahead, picking up speed. She risked a look in the mirror in time to see a minivan fishtail crazily and skid sideways into a deep pile of bright-pink seed. Omigod, you’ve caused an accident. What if they’re hurt? What if they have kids in the car?

  “Look again,” said Travis, shifting gears.

  Four men leaped from the van and charged over the heaps of seed. In the blink of an eye, they were no longer running on two legs but four. A fifth wolf shook itself free of the enormous pile of grain and joined them. The pack was still following the dump truck, but now that it was empty, they weren’t fast enough. As Neva watched in the mirror, the creatures became smaller and smaller until they disappeared from sight entirely.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. They’re gone.

  “Good. Because we’re nearly out of fuel.”

  You stole a truck without gas in it? Are you kidding me?

  “For Christ’s sake, the gauges don’t work until you start it up, you know. And I was a little preoccupied with saving our asses—which I managed to do, but don’t bother thanking me or anything.”

  Neva sighed, and the sound was almost the same from wolfen lips as from human. Travis was right. Again. That grated, but not as much as it once did. How could she be irritated with him when he’d managed to outmaneuver Meredith’s wolves? Neva had been scared, and even now she was nauseous and shivering, partly because her body was dumping the excess adrenaline, but mostly at the thought of what Meredith might have done to her—and surely would have done to Travis. Thank you. It was a close call.

  He was silent for a long moment. “You’re welcome,” he said at last, so quietly that only her Changeling senses could pick it up.

  ELEVEN

  Baker was surprised that a hunting party hadn’t come after him. Surely whatever wolves had been assigned to cleanup duty had noticed they were one body short in the ashen circle. Perhaps they decided to keep it quiet—the devil knew he would. No one in his right mind would volunteer that kind of information to someone like Meredith. It reminded him of his dad’s old adage on the ranch when wolves began targeting the calves in the high pasture one summer—shoot, shovel, and shut up.

  He grimaced. What would his dad say if he knew his own son was
now one of the hated predators? Hell, what would his dad say if he saw a wolf, any wolf, that was this fucking big? That’s how you tell the werewolves from the natural wolves, Dad. Of course, Baker didn’t plan to tell his father anything of the sort. In fact, unless Baker found a way to return to his human form, he wasn’t going to be doing any talking at all. Right now, however, he figured his best bet was to use his new four-legged body to get gone, as far and as fast as he could in case anyone did decide to follow him. He’d figure out how to stand on two legs again later.

  And somehow he’d figure out how to save Riley. There was no way he was leaving his best friend in Meredith’s bloodstained hands. For shit’s sake, he and Riley had done everything together since second grade, and now they were both fucking grade-A werewolves. It was just like something out of a horror movie, but they’d deal with it together. If Riley was still alive. Baker shook his head, making the thick gray fur around his neck stand out like a mane. He wasn’t going to think like that. Not about Riley.

  Hold on, buddy. Just hold on.

  The moon was blotted out by an overcast sky, a lucky break as far as Travis was concerned. Break number two was a narrow steel bridge over a shallow creek. The fuel gauge was on empty when he deliberately skidded the truck and wedged it sideways between the girders, blocking both lanes. If the hunters had managed to obtain another vehicle, they’d have to abandon it here.

  Neva thought they should wipe down the cab of the truck before leaving, but there was no point. Local law enforcement would most likely chalk up the whole incident to joyriding teens. He had no record, as he’d never been foolish enough to get arrested, and he doubted that Neva’s prints were on file, either.

  As wolves, they splashed through the cold water of the creek for more than fifteen miles. The first ten, Neva kept up with him readily. The last five, she was cold and exhausted, and he’d had to all but bite her to keep her going. The frigid water would hide their scent. Another town had been much closer, less than two miles away from the bridge in the opposite direction. But their pursuers would expect them to go there.

  When the fugitive pair finally emerged from the water, they were at the edge of the Crossford industrial park, with an entire county between them and the abandoned truck.

  The darkness was deep and soothing, a velvety blanket to hide them from human sight. Lights were few and far between here, and simple to steer clear of. Travis led the sagging Neva through a maze of warehouses and compounds until he saw a small, rundown building without any lights around it at all. It looked like it might have started its life as a car parts dealership, but a big wooden sign now read, “Brother’s Keeper Secondhand Store,” and in smaller letters under it, “Food Bank.” Break number three, he thought.

  He resumed his human form and pulled some slim tools from the inner pocket of his leather jacket. The lock was a simple one. “Food, clothing, and shelter,” he announced, holding the door open for Neva. He expected her to make some smart-mouthed comment about breaking and entering, but the dark wolf was silent as she crossed the threshold. He’d pushed her hard and far, but he couldn’t be sorry. It very nearly hadn’t been far enough. After they’d rested and eaten, he was going to push her into moving on again. At least for a while. If he got her to a safe location—and gave her the rundown of the basic rules of Changeling life—surely he would have more than fulfilled his responsibilities. She could manage on her own from there.

  His wolf didn’t seem to like that idea at all, but too frickin’ bad. Travis figured it was way past time he gave up babysitting. Time to hit the open road. He’d done his good deed and then some, so surely he deserved to resume his complication-free existence where he only had himself to worry about. The little voice in his head scoffed at him, That’s all you deserve. He sighed and turned his attention to Neva.

  A blue glow in the clothing section of the thrift store—and a few errant sparks that Travis hoped wouldn’t set the place on fire—signaled her return to human form. He could only see her head and bare shoulders above the garment racks, and a fleeting glimpse of more as she passed from one aisle to another. There was something teasing and erotic about it, although he’d seen her completely naked more than once now. Changeling senses allowed him to hear the soft susurrus of fabric as it brushed over her bare skin. His cock hardened until he had to readjust his jeans to accommodate it, and his mind had a sudden clear picture of laying her down atop an enormous pile of soft clothing and—

  She emerged wearing a truly hideous tentlike dress in a loud red, purple, and orange tropical fabric that no self-respecting islander would be caught dead in. Not only was it at least ten sizes too big, it covered Neva from neck to ankle. As he watched, she belted it casually with a fuzzy pink chenille tie that looked stolen from some grandma’s bathrobe.

  He couldn’t help it. “What the hell is that?”

  Neva shrugged. “I think they call it loungewear. I don’t see any point to wearing clothes that I actually like, since I’ll just lose them the next time I turn into a wolf. This way I’ll be glad they’re gone.”

  A dress like that would have to be burned to make sure it didn’t come back from the dead, he thought. “I’ll teach you how to keep your clothes, how to bring them with you when you’re ready to take on human form,” he blurted. Oh, for Christ’s sake. There was another promise, another commitment, another responsibility. But, goddamn, it would haunt him for the rest of his life if he left such a beautiful woman to dress like a—

  She was beautiful, he realized. Even in that monstrosity of a dress, she looked utterly appealing. His cock certainly hadn’t relaxed one bit, but the rest of him was fully focused now. And it wasn’t just her looks that intrigued him. He’d never met a woman with more grit and determination, and while she drove him crazy with her stubbornness and her irritating refusal to trust him, he admired her.

  And he wanted her.

  “Good. When do we start?” she asked, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he found himself trailing his knuckles along her jawline. He lifted her chin with a finger and traced the outline of her lips, then touched them with his own. And there it was, just as he’d imagined—a taste to match her scent, sweet and tart at the same time. A hint of apple wine, a scattering of spice. For a moment he wasn’t sure if she would respond in kind or try to deck him. She didn’t seem sure at first, either. Then something abruptly changed, eased, and gave way. Her lips were full with arousal as she poured herself into the kiss, and just as suddenly, he couldn’t get enough of her.

  Travis savored, tasted, inhaled, devoured. Rained kisses on her lips, her face, her ears, her throat. Tore away the gaudy fabric to feast on those caramel nipples, and the feather-soft breasts that filled his hands oh so perfectly.

  The last thing he expected was to be interrupted by his inner wolf. It whuffed its concern, not for him, but for Neva. Startled, his wits returned, and he took a hard look at the woman in his arms. The overbright robe she wore failed to lend any color to her lovely face, and there were deep shadows under her eyes.

  “Mmm, don’t stop,” she murmured, gliding a hand through his hair. He grabbed her wrist and could feel the faint tremble in it. Neva was exhausted. In fact, if he wasn’t holding her, would she be standing at all?

  “How many times have you Changed recently?” he demanded, trying to come up with that number himself. Two? Three?

  “Don’t know.” She tried to press her face close for another kiss. “Doesn’t matter.”

  He gave her a shake. “Wake up. It matters plenty.”

  Neva frowned at him. “You kiss me, then you yell at me. You really need to join an anger management program, you know?” At least he thought that was what she said. The words were slurred together as if she’d been drinking. She shoved at him, but succeeded only in pushing herself off balance.

  Oh, for Christ’s sake. Travis caught her before she fell and simply picked her up. Her protest was cranky but mumbled, and that fact alone showed she was in rough shape. It also
told him he was a complete idiot and a jerk and everything she’d ever accused him of being. Shifting form took enormous amounts of energy. Even though Changelings could draw most of that energy from the earth and the air around them—hence the static charge that accompanied the transition—new Changelings weren’t practiced enough to do that. The energy they spent on a first Change was usually all their own. While he was old enough and experienced enough to shift two or three times a day if the need arose, Neva was definitely not. It would take rest, and plenty of it, plus major calories, in order to rebuild her reserves.

  Well, at least he didn’t have to go hunt down a moose for her. Cradling Neva to his chest, he strode to the back of the building, where endless shelves of auto parts had been supplanted with food bank items. The assortment was somewhat odd (an entire pallet of canned sardines in mustard sauce?) but plentiful. There was an aisle of canned Asian vegetables with names he couldn’t read. There were cases of sports drinks that promised electrolytes, and he nabbed a couple of bottles. But it was protein he was looking for, and he really didn’t want to go back for the damn sardines unless he had to. Finally he found some ancient refrigerator units on the very back wall that boasted six cartons of milk, some cheese, and a few packages of something he didn’t expect from a place like this—real meat. Raw animal protein was a new Changeling’s best friend.

  Neva just wanted to sleep, but someone kept waking her up. Swallow this. Eat that. Chew that some more. Just another bite. Drink this. Tiny bits of food were placed in her mouth, cups were held to her lips. No sooner had she drifted off than the whole cycle started again. She wanted to push it away, tell whoever it was to stop, to leave her alone, but she couldn’t seem to muster the anger or the energy. Or the will—in spite of her exhaustion, she was aware of a monstrous hunger, almost like a living thing. A great, gaping void in her midsection that could not be filled. As if the person feeding her understood her need, the pea-size bites of food came faster, especially the meat.