“So, what’s the big emergency?” I said as I threw my duffle onto the rear floorboard, then slid into the passenger’s seat of Jace’s SUV. His gaze landed on my thighs, where my short skirt had ridden up, and the sudden jump in his pulse was…gratifying.
He’d seen me naked—and I, him—a million times, but nudity means little to most shifters, because it’s required for the transformation to and from feline form. Shifters are aroused by what they don’t see. What they almost see. By the intent implied by flesh displayed behind or beneath strategically placed panels of lace or silk. Flesh that is put on display, in private, for a specific intended audience.
Lingerie is big with shifters, for obvious reasons.
But Jace had never looked at me like that before. As if he wondered what my underwear looked like.
I laughed, and he flushed—I’d never seen an Alpha flush in anything other than anger. Then he looked straight out the windshield and made an obvious, concerted effort to slow his pulse.
“Jace?” I said, and he cleared his throat.
“Hmm?” He slammed the gearshift into reverse and made a production of looking into the rearview mirror as he backed out of the parking space.
“The emergency? Why are we going to the ranch?”
“Oh. Someone’s killing humans, and the local news has picked up the story.”
“Local?” Not good. “How local?”
“For us? Very. The victims have all been killed in our territory.” Jace looked left, then right on his way out of the parking lot, and my stomach clenched as the details began to coalesce into something that almost made sense. “Right now, the cops think there’s a wild animal on the loose, but if we don’t find the rogue and take him out, they’re going to start suspecting foul play. Or they’re going to shoot one of our guys while they’re out hunting this mythical black cougar, then they’ll have biological proof that humans aren’t the most dangerous thing out there. The council’s in self-defense mode. They’ll do whatever it takes to keep us from being outted.”
“You’re sure the killer’s one of ours? Couldn’t it be a thunderbird or a bruin?” Please let it be a thunderbird or a bruin. Bird- and bear-shifters could be every bit as vicious as werecats, and if it wasn’t a cat, it wasn’t our responsibility.
“Definitely a cat,” Jace said, and I had to grab the door handle to keep from landing in his lap with he took a turn too hard. He still didn’t drive like an Alpha. “But probably not ours.”
“You think it’s a stray,” I said, as more of the pieces fell into place.
“We didn’t get to examine the bodies—the cops got there first, and we don’t have anyone on the inside—but we know for a fact that there are no natural wildcats in Appalachia.” Or anywhere else heavily populated with shifters. Natural cats avoided us like the plague. “So it better be a stray,” he continued. “Because if one of our own’s gone rogue, we’re all in big trouble.”
But what he didn’t say aloud—what I could see etched into the brand new Alpha-lines on his otherwise youthful forehead—was that we couldn’t afford for it to be a stray either. Not when they were so close to voting on the resolution he and Faythe had cosponsored in the territorial council.
For the first time in U.S. history, the council was being asked to formally acknowledge a Pride made up entirely of strays who wished to carve out a territory of their own in one of the free zones. Faythe’s husband Marc—a stray adopted as a child by her father—had been acting as liaison to the potential new Pride, helping them get all their Ts crossed and Is dotted, in order to present themselves at the next meeting.
If the council discovered that the murderer was a stray, that resolution would never pass. The project Jace, Faythe, and Marc had hoped would bring lasting peace between strays and Pride cats would fail before it ever even had a chance.
“That’s why I have to go with you to the ranch,” I said, and Jace gave me a small nod. If there was a murderous stray loose in the Appalachian territory, my dad wouldn’t want me to stay at the lodge for the holidays. Even though Jace had probably tripled his security measures to protect his mother and sister.
Tabbies were too rare and too precious to risk, and having two of them of childbearing age in the same house would only strengthen the temptation for a stray who’d probably never even met a female of his own species.
“So, this is history repeating itself? The big strong tomcat has come to drag the helpless council chairman’s daughter home from school for her own good?”
“It was the right thing to do for Faythe, and it’s the right thing to do for you. But you’re far from helpless.” Jace’s voice rang with admiration that warmed me all over. “I know a few hunters rotting in shallow graves in the woods who could attest to that.” His pride in me became misplaced nostalgia, and alarms went off in my head. “Faythe taught you well.”
The warm smile he gave me would have felt wonderful—if it were meant for me. “Jace…I’m not Faythe.”
He laughed again, and those inner alarms began to fade. “Glad to hear it. Things never seem to work out in my favor, when she’s involved. You, however…” He aimed another blue-eyed glance at me, and I caught my breath “You’re my new lucky charm. Kiddo.”
Read the rest Abby and Jace's story in LION’S SHARE, coming in late 2014. If you’d like to be notified when future books in this series or other books by Rachel Vincent are released, sign up for her mailing list here.
About the Author
Rachel Vincent is a former English teacher and an eager champion of the Oxford comma. She shares her home in Oklahoma with two cats, two teenagers, and her husband, who’s been her # 1 fan from the start. Rachel is older than she looks and younger than she feels, and she remains convinced that writing about the things that scare her is the cheapest form of therapy—but social media is a close second.
Also By Rachel Vincent
Shifters
Stray
Rogue
Pride
Prey
Shift
Alpha
Unbound
Blood Bound
Shadow Bound
Oath Bound
Soul Screamers
My Soul To Take
My Soul To Save
My Soul To Keep
My Soul To Steal
If I Die
Before I Wake
With All My Soul
Coming Soon
Lion’s Share
The Stars Never Rise
Menagerie
Acknowledgements:
Thanks must go, first and foremost, to my husband, who has put countless hours into my career in the form of artwork, web design, brainstorming, and moral support. You are my anchor and I love you.
Thanks also to Rinda Elliott, my long-term critique partner, who critiqued and proofed both “Hunt” and LION’S SHARE, as well as the entire Shifters series.
Thanks to Jennifer Lynn Barnes, for untold hours of Panera-fueled writing and company.
Thanks to Carrie Ryan and Jeannette Battista, for endless resources.
Thanks to Melissa, Molly, and the Deadline Dames for encouragement on this independent venture.
And thanks most of all to all the Shifters fans who asked for more.
Table of Contents:
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Hunt
A Note From Rachel
Excerpt from Lion’s Share
Acknowledgments
Hunt Page 5
