by Sadie Hart
Her clothes were gone, to wherever her human body had gone too. Her soul and her mind were still there, just like the dog’s was always inside her when she was human. Twin creatures sharing one body at a time.
She could feel the dog’s happiness at being free, at feeling the cool wind in her fur, and Bree gave the animal a moment to tilt her nose into the wind and let out an excited yip, tail wagging. Then she turned their attention to the job at hand.
Her nose hovered just above the snow and she moved across the yard, a smooth and even trot as she breathed in the wintry scents. There. Alongside the streaks of red across the ground was the scent of the rogue. He’d been a wolf when he’d slain the animal, but she could still smell the excitement that had filled him when he’d taken the creature down.
She was half way across the yard when she felt Hunter join her. He was large for a wolf, with white fur almost the color of the snow beneath his paws, only his shoulders and back were tinged in silver. His eyes were the same brilliant brown-gold they were as a man. He pressed his muzzle against the side of her neck and she could feel him inhale, breathing her in.
Her dog leaned into his touch, her nose running through his thick winter coat. His fur was soft against her muzzle, tickling over her lips and nose. She thought she’d known his scent before—after all, she’d sat wrapped in his arms the other night. But standing here—dog and wolf—with every breath she took she found another nuance to the scent that was Hunter.
Then she stepped away and turned back to tracking the rogue on his spree across the yard. He’d tortured this deer, dragging it this way and that. Either he was inexperienced when it came to the hunt, or a sadist. Hunter gave a low growl from his place next to her, the quiet thundering rumble a distant echo to the one that built in her throat.
Finally she found the spot where he’d made the kill and she could smell another wolf, male and probably one of Hunter’s, as he’d been human when he’d dragged the carcass off into the woods. No doubt to feed it to the scavengers. The rogue, on the other hand, had taken off in the other direction and she followed, picking up to an easy lope as she followed the scent trail laid out before her.
Thankfully there hadn’t been much bad weather to ruin the trail, though following scent through a forest took skill. She lost track of the time as she wove her way through pine trees and white capped bushes. Hunter followed somewhere behind her, his steps as quiet as hers, and they were almost impossible to hear as they worked their way through the densely wooded trees.
The path slowly got rockier as it curved toward an old ravine. She spotted the lean-to first, planks of plywood hastily tossed together, branches ripped from threes to give shelter. She shifted mid-step and surveyed the scene.
The whole place reeked of the rogue, but a squatter didn’t exactly fit the profile of a stalker or a kidnapper. Hands braced on her hips, Bree scanned up and down the ravine. There was no sign of their mystery wolf, but this was definitely his place.
“Hell,” Hunter said from behind her and Bree turned. “It makes no sense. If he’s simply a homeless rogue why not just ask for admittance into the pack. I’m known for taking in damn near every wolf that crosses White Pine’s city limits.”
Bree didn’t have a way to answer that, but she had a niggling feeling this wolf didn’t want to be part of a pack. Careful not to slip on the rocks, Bree worked her way down into the ravine and into the small hovel the rogue had built himself. The place reeked of blood and she covered her nose with her coat sleeve.
Blood smeared the walls and there was a bloody deer leg lying beside the cot.
“Shit,” Hunter muttered as he stumbled up behind her.
She knelt next to the cot and reached over the sweat stained sleeping bag for the small brown book beside it. The leather bound journal flipped open easily in her hands. A picture of a slim man slipped out. Brown spiked hair, a dashing smile, the leather jacket over his thin shoulders and a motorcycle behind him. He grinned up at the camera.
She slid the picture back into the book and flipped through the pages only to have her breath catch in her throat, snagged on the lump of fear suddenly threatening to send her into a panic. There were pictures of her. In her robe making tea one morning, scrubbing clean her garage this past summer, answering that damned phone...
Her face was circled in red in almost every one of them.
Hunter growled behind her, a low, dark sound that crept through the small hovel and filled it with all the rage that trembled through him. He reached for the pictures but she swept his hand aside. “Don’t. I’ll need these untouched.”
She forced out a shaky breath.
“And I really don’t think this bastard wants in your pack.”
But she did want to know what he wanted with her.
She kept flipping the pages. A newspaper clipping on Caesar. Her hands were cold with chill as she turned another page. Just how long had this psycho been stalking her?
And what did any of this have to do with Rylie Kelsen and Hunter’s pack?
After that, the pages were all blank until the very last one. Another picture of the guy with the motorcycle and another guy, but she didn’t recognize either one of them. She flipped the picture over, hoping for a name or a date but there was nothing on the back. Frustrated she closed the book and set it on the cot.
This guy seemed to know an awful lot about her and she knew nothing about him. Then again, the bad guys almost always started with a leg up. It was up to her to close that gap and solve the case. She took another deep, steadying breath, and then reached for the bundle of magick buried in the depths of her psyche.
Not the magick that let her shift, but the one granted to her when she’d passed through the Shifter Town Enforcement Academy. Each member once made an official Hound was given a gift from a witch—raw magick. Something no other shifter had access too. You couldn’t get it without a trained witch’s help.
She was by no means as strong as even a lightweight witch, but this gave her an advantage over the average shifter. And as she held her hands out over the old, worn journal she let herself fall into a trance. Her hair whispered around her face, lighting kissing her cheeks as the energy ran through her. Her inner-canine cowered somewhere deep inside her, trying to avoid the touch of magick that now spread out of her hands and wrapped around the book.
It wasn’t natural for a shifter to do what she could do as a Hound, but it paid off.
It was a simple ‘spell’ of sorts. Scrying or searching, she let her magick sift through the book looking for any details that could help her. There was so much rage in that book. Every time that wolf had touched this journal he’d left of piece of the anger that tore at his soul. He wanted pain, vengeance, and Bree had no doubt it was towards her.
If the rogue had been a lion she could have understood, but a wolf?
It didn’t make sense. Sure, as a Hound she’d put wolves behind silver-coated bars before, even executed a few, but her jurisdiction had largely been lion-shifters. She turned the focus of her search towards Rylie. Wolf. Female. She let the magick spread through the small lean-to, but there was nothing. Nothing here that would explain why he’d attacked one of Hunter’s pack.
She angled her hands over the deer leg. More rage, but it was different. Almost like he’d taken the animal’s life to vent. Possible, especially if he’d done it after lashing out at her window. Bree bit her lip and pulled the Hound magick back inside her. She rocked back on her heels.
All of this pointed toward issues with her, not Rylie. So why take the she-wolf at all?
Why not just come after the one he really wanted?
After all, Bree would have been more than happy to give him a good fight.
Chapter Eight
Hunter let Bree have her silence as they trekked back toward the house. They’d traveled at least six miles out, a distance they could have traveled faster had they shifted, but she seemed too lost in thought for that. He wanted to know what she’d found
when she’d pulled her little magick trick back there. Her hair and lifted as if tugged by some imaginary wind and he’d felt the pulse of power around her.
Hell, he hadn’t felt magick like that except for his one run in with a witch. He’d known Hounds had a little bit of magick but what he’d felt back there hadn’t felt little.
“I don’t know what he wants with your wolf,” she said, finally breaking the silence that lingered between them.
“What did you find back there?”
She lifted her shoulders in a half-shrug. “That he’s pissed at me for something. He killed that deer as sort of a way to relieve frustration. I think it happened after his little window-smacking scene at my house.”
Hunter kept pace beside her as he let her words sink in. He could see the deer killing as a frustration kill. Hell, the rogue hadn’t eaten any part of it. Just left the body there. Could even see why it had been his yard. After all, the rogue had probably watched while Hunter had cleaned the spray paint off her garage and gone inside for a drink. Maybe it had just been rage he’d needed to let out.
The part of this he didn’t like was the fact that this time he didn’t have a deer, he had a member of Hunter’s pack. “Do you think he took Rylie for the same purpose as that deer?”
“I don’t know.” She glanced at him, her gaze hard but there was an edge of sympathy to it. He could see where she would have made a damn good cop. “But we’re going to find her.”
Then, before he could ask anything else, she shifted. The woman vanishing into a large red dog that was suddenly running through the trees in the direction of his house. His wolf leapt under his skin, ready to follow, and Hunter let the beast have its way. In a breath he was on all four paws running through the snow covered woods, gaining on the sprinting dog ahead. She was fast, he was just faster.
Over the course of a mile he drained away the lead she’d had on him and caught her, easing his stride until he could keep pace with her. Bree seemed determined to run herself into the ground. He couldn’t smell anything she was chasing, so it had to be whatever they’d found back there, she was trying to outrun. And if that was the case, he was going to run with her.
The forest broke around them and she slowed, her breath coming out in puffs. She shifted back and stumbled, but Hunter was there to catch her. His hand clasped her elbow as he steadied her.
“You okay?”
“Yes. Let’s just get to Rylie’s place. If it is like the deer, it’ll be a spur of the moment snap. The rage just suddenly getting too much. I want to get there first.”
There was something else, something she wasn’t saying, but it wasn’t his place to pry right? He reached out and touched her cheek and she leaned into his touch. A soft smile touched her lips and she turned to look at him.
“I want to save your wolf, Hunter.”
“He’ll come for you. Stalkers normally do and if you’re right, he wants you dead.”
She reached towards her hip and let the palm of her hand rest on her gun. There was steel in her eyes as she stared him down. She’d been an alpha once. He’d read everything he could get on his new neighbor when she’d arrived. Ex-Hounds weren’t exactly normal. Looking into her eyes he could see the strength that had let her lead a pack of Hounds after rogue shifters—killers, rapists, even just those with a bad rap and beast side to make them more dangerous.
Whatever fear he’d caught glimpses of back there in that makeshift house was gone now. The woman full of uncertainty and wanting to disappear from the other day, she was gone too. The shift was remarkable. He’d wanted to know everything about her then, and now the desire had only strengthened. Made him want more.
He let his hand fall and they headed for his truck. Bree glanced at him as she reached for the passenger door. “Do you have a way into her apartment?”
“Yeah I got a key. We didn’t find anything last night, but like I said I don’t think that Hound cared.”
“What made you think I would?”
“Because you cared about the kids leaving graffiti on your house. The ones you thought were behind the calls too. The local Hounds wouldn’t have given a damn.” He pulled open the door and paused, meeting her gaze. “Because you could have shot me the other night, because you accepted me into your home and let me stay the night to ‘protect’ you even when you didn’t need it. All of that told me you had a heart, you gave a damn, and that you might just help me.”
She waited until they were on the road before she said anything in response, but when she did, her voice came quiet in the truck, barely louder than the radio. “You didn’t treat me like someone you wanted to get the hell out of your territory. You showed me respect and showed me an alpha who cared about his pack and cared about keeping them in line. You showed me kindness and concern when instead of chasing down that rogue you came to make sure I was all right. I think we both learned a lot about each other that night.”
Hunter looked at her. “I’d like to learn more.”
“Oh. I would too. After we catch this bastard.”
The truck picked up speed as it rose over the hill in front of Bree’s house. It had become automatic to look, just to make sure all was well, when he spotted something on her door. He slowed. “Was that there earlier?”
“What?” Bree leaned forward in her seat. “I don’t think so.”
“Let’s make a pit stop.”
He turned the truck up the slope of her driveway. It was a piece of paper hanging on her front door. Bree hopped out and headed for her front door, only to rip the piece of paper off. She climbed back in the truck and slammed it on the dash.
One look at the paper and his blood went cold.
An photograph of Rylie tied to a chair, a gag in her mouth was taped to the paper. Below it in a rough scrawl was: Want to save her? Wolf’s Peak, 7 PM. Come alone.
Her jaw was tight as glared down at the paper. “Should we call the Hounds?”
He hated to make that offer, because as much as he trusted Bree, he didn’t trust the others. She pulled out her phone. “No.”
“Then who are you—” The words died. She’d pulled up Google. He recognized what she was searching for. “I know where Wolf’s Peak is.”
“How far?”
He glanced at the clock. “An hour and a half.”
It was barely two in the afternoon. They had time. She jerked her head in a nod. “Get us there early.”
That he could do. He backed the truck down the drive and angled it in the direction of the small clip of mountains to the north. “What are we going to do when we get there?”
“Save your wolf and figure out what this one wants with me.”
He nodded. In the meantime though, they had a drive ahead of him. He flipped on the radio and let the Christmas carols fill the car.
After a few seconds Bree whispered, “My daughter loved this song.”
“You were looking through her pictures last night.”
“You were right. I don’t have anything in that house. Nothing that’s me. Nothing to remember her by.”
He didn’t remember quite phrasing it that way, but it was the truth so he didn’t argue. “It’s easier that way,” he said, mirroring what she’d said the night before.
“Only if you never want to move on.” She looked out the window. He could see the rush of snow covered land whisking by the truck. “I’m tired of trying to disappear. Of hiding. Didn’t work so well anyway.”
Someone had found her, and not just Hunter. He focused back on the road, but not before he reached over and took her hand in his, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze. “I don’t think you were meant to hide.”
She trailed fingers over his knuckles before clasping his hand between hers. “I guess not. But for awhile it was too painful to live.”
“Everyone has that every now and then. Sometimes you have to pull back, give yourself a break. Then when you feel strong enough—”
“I’m not sure I’m strong enough.”
/> Hunter shook his head. He knew she was. “That look you get in your eyes when you’re working a case that tells me you’re strong enough. It’s pure steel. Raw determination.”
He admired the hell out of her every time he glimpsed it in her gaze.
“Thank you.” She pulled his hand to her lips and he felt her warm breath across his knuckles a second before she kissed his skin. “For offering to clean my garage and just...being insistent enough for me to realize I was tired of talking to empty walls instead of people.”
Hunter smiled. “Any time, sweetheart.”
Chapter Nine
The wind whistled around the peaks as they stepped out of the truck, the doors slamming shut behind them. Bree shoved her hands into her winter coat pockets and looked up at the marked trail that led up the slope. There was a map on a sign next to the start of the trail.
“It gets used a lot in the summer months, not so much in the winter outside of a few diehard joggers in the mornings and the pack on full moon nights.”
Bree stared up at the barren trail and blew out a breath. This was what she knew how to do. Track a bad guy, protect the innocent. She turned her attention to Hunter. “You need to hide.”
There was nothing in her tone that brooked an argument. That note had said she was to come alone, and whoever this bastard was, they had an issue with her. Hunter was there as back up, but she’d be damned if she got this girl killed by having him waltz up the slope with her.
“You said the pack uses this on full moon nights. Then you know the layout well, right?” When he nodded, she bulldozed on. “Then get to the peak without getting seen. If you can, get within sight of me so if anything goes wrong you can get your wolf out of there.”
Hunter nodded. She could see he wanted to argue, it was there, simmering just under the surface in his gaze. The alpha in him—the protector—didn’t like the thought of only saving his wolf and leaving her behind. Bree met his gaze, unyielding. She needed to know he could do this and that he wouldn’t get in the way.
