Werewolves & Whiskers: Sawtooth Peaks Wolf Shifter Romance Box Set

by Keira Blackwood

  Okay, so he had a point. “Zombies,” I said. It was all the explanation that was needed.

  “I noticed the attempt at flesh-eating,” he said. “But what makes you so sure that they’re monsters?”

  “Cannibalism isn’t enough for you?” I asked.

  He didn’t move, or show any sign of what he was thinking.

  “How about the eyes?” I pressed. “Or the fact that they never show up in the day? Usually that’s a good sign of a horror movie creature.”

  “Or a raccoon.”

  “Touché,” I said. And the strangest thing happened—I laughed.

  A sound echoed through the parking lot, a gurgling stomach sound. It came from the wolf.

  “Don’t tell me this conversation’s making you hungry,” I teased. His eyes sparkled with amusement.

  “I haven’t eaten since this morning,” he said.

  “That was stupid.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been busy. Because, like I said, I have a lot of questions.”

  “Sure,” I said. “And being curious prevents you from eating.”

  “If it’s all-consuming,” he said.

  That struck home. There’d been days where I didn't eat, more nights where I didn’t sleep.

  When I said nothing, he continued. “I went to see the coroner today.”

  That filled me with questions. Was he looking for the zombies from the night before? Did he find them? I doubted it. What was he hoping to learn?

  “And what did he have to say?” I asked.

  “There was something… off about him,” the wolf said. “Not only that, but he said his job’s boring. I figured in a town where zombies, if we’re going with that, attacked people at night, a man in his position would have a little more to say.”

  “Maybe he just had nothing to say to you,” I said.

  “Possibly,” he said. “But he could have sent me away without even meeting me. I think he’s either a skilled liar, or there’s some other reason bodies never end up in the morgue.”

  Again his stomach rumbled. I stood on the step and walked over to him. “Here.” I offered him half my ham and cheddar sandwich. “If we’re going to keep talking,” I said, “we should eat.”

  “Thanks,” he said, and took it.

  His fingers brushed mine, and my breath caught. It was strange, like a chemical, electrical connection that set fireworks off. I’d never felt that before. It was different than my dream, different than anything I’d ever felt.

  “I’m Axel,” he said.

  I stared into his eyes, struck by the unfamiliar flutter in my core. And I realized I needed to speak, but the feeling of his touch still lingered, delaying reasonable thought.

  Finally, I replied, “Penny.”

  Chapter Six

  Axel

  Penny. The name suited her better than Raven. It was the copper of her eyes; it was the sparkle of something magnificent just beneath the surface. It was what had drawn me to her the night before, though I hadn’t realized it at the time. I’d seen myself, my anger, but what shone beneath was unfamiliar. And I craved another glimpse.

  Wild strands of ebony hair brushed the sharp line of her chin, swept across her forehead, and contrasted perfectly with her fair, ivory skin. So close, I listened to the gentle flutter of her heart, let her sweet, dewy scent fill my brain.

  “If you don’t like the looks of it, I’ll take it back,” she said, meeting my eyes with her gorgeous, copper set.

  “What?”

  “The sandwich,” she said, pointing at the food I held. “It’s not bad, promise.”

  I took a bite. The bread was fresh—crisp on the outside, soft in the center. Ham, cheddar, some kind of sweet and zesty mustard—it was the best thing I’d tasted in a long time. “It’s good, thanks,” I said. “I have to ask.”

  “Oh yeah,” she said. “What’s that?”

  “Your shift—”

  “Yeah I know,” she said. “It’s not like yours.”

  “That’s an understatement,” I replied. “I’ve never seen anything like it. There were no bone-cracking sounds, no stripping down, no shifter-like shift.”

  Penny nodded.

  “That must be a huge advantage,” I said. “I wish I could take my clothes with me when I shift without having to drag them around in my mouth. How? Just how does that work? Is it a crow thing?”

  “Raven.” Raven—just like her hair.

  “Okay,” I said. “Is it a special quality of raven shifters?”

  “Something like that,” she said.

  “I’ve never met a bird shifter of any sort before,” I said. “Are there fewer of you than wolves or bears?”

  Penny shrugged. “My constable’s not exactly social.”

  “Constable—like a pack?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “I thought murder was the term,” I said, “or pack. Everyone else seems to go by pack. Constable’s interesting, just like that shift.”

  “A group of ravens is typically called an unkindness. Murder is for crows,” Penny said.

  “I didn’t know that,” I said. “So where does constable come from?”

  “A little more flattering than unkindness,” she said, then shifted her weight and changed the subject. Was I making her uncomfortable? That certainly wasn’t my intention. “So if you’re having a tough time coming to terms with the existence of zombies, you must have thought I was pretty callous taking out those two.”

  “It’s not for me to judge,” I said.

  “And are you feeling guilty about the third?” she asked.

  “I didn’t kill him.”

  “What?” Her eyes went wide.

  “I didn’t know you,” I said. “I didn’t know him.”

  “So what the hell did you do with him?” she asked. Her body was tense. This was bigger than one night for her. We’d struck something deeper—a wound. “Don’t tell me you just let it go. That thing could be out there right now tearing someone to shreds. That’s what they do. That’s all they do. They kill.” Her heart pounded. Her eyes blazed.

  I had to choose my words carefully. This was make or break it. Keep her here or push her away. Usually I wouldn’t care. But with her, somehow, I did. “I’ve been traveling across the country,” I said. “I’ve spent years on the road, and never have come across anything like this. While I appreciate that the situation is very real to you, I’m still new to Corbeau. New to zombies.”

  She studied my face, fists clenched as tightly as her jaw. I hoped she’d understand. I cared what she thought more than I should. I didn’t want her to go.

  “But I want to understand,” I said.

  Her shoulders dropped. “Tell me you didn’t let it go.”

  “Of course not,” I said. “Garfield’s back at my hotel room.”

  “You named it.” Her brows lowered in disapproval.

  “He does this thing,” I said.

  “Bite you?” she asked.

  “I’ll admit he’s tried,” I said. “But no, I meant what he says. I ask him something and he answers Garrrfiieeeld.”

  “I think you’re hearing what you want to,” she said. “They don’t talk. Not words at least.”

  “Come on,” I said. “I’ll show you. It’s unmistakable.”

  “And when he shows nothing but the hunger,” she said, “you step aside while I kill him.”

  That hatred was there, simmering at the surface. I could help her. I knew I could. She was me, or at least a better version.

  “You convince me that there’s nothing else to him,” I said, “and he’s all yours.”

  “Deal,” she said. “I’m holding you to it.”

  There was no question that she would. I had to think fast. What would it take to convince me? More importantly, what would it take to convince her that she was wrong? I looked at the blaze of coppery fire in her eyes. It would take a fucking miracle.

  Chapter Seven

  Penny

&
nbsp; I couldn’t hunt for Danny’s killer until this zombie was dealt with. And I couldn’t sleep until I’d searched for him. It was hard enough when I had.

  After this, Axel and I could go our separate ways, even if I didn’t really want to. After this, I could try to forget him, even if I couldn’t.

  “You’re not going to kill him until I’m convinced, right?” Axel raised his eyebrows and waited. He wasn’t going to open the door until I agreed. Stubborn.

  “I swear,” I said, meeting his gaze. Axel nodded, then turned the key.

  The motel room was a crap hole, and more so than they came standard. The floral comforter was shredded. Cheese snacks lay scattered and crushed across the stained, brown carpet, along with spattered blood and chunks of drywall where the radiator dangled. Why had I expected anything else?

  “What the… holy…” Axel slid his hands back over his face to his short, dirty-blond hair. Even as stress lined his face, he was handsome. I knew I had to stop thinking like that. I had to focus.

  He had no idea what he was messing with bringing one of those things to the place he slept. Lucky for him, the zombie was gone.

  “He was right there. I had him chained right there to the radiator,” Axel said.

  “I got that.”

  “How could he have gotten free?” he asked, more to himself than to me.

  “My guess is he chewed himself free,” I said. “They do that. They have no regard for their bodies. Because they’re zombies.”

  “Where would he go?” Axel asked. Frustration danced in his dark eyes.

  I understood. I’d been there. I was there.

  “That’s a tough one,” I replied.

  “Have you tried following them?” Axel asked. “Do they return to their loved ones?”

  “I have,” I said. “And sometimes they do. But, it’s better if they don’t.” I’d seen it happen once. It was a massacre.

  Axel was quiet as he looked over the mess. “We have to follow Garfield.”

  We. He said we. At the sound of that one word, my chest tightened. This was not the hunt I had intended, but he was right to try and stop any zombie that wandered free. I told myself that it was important for me to help Axel chase down his zombie. I told myself it was more urgent than hunting for Danny’s killer. It was an excuse to spend more time with Axel. I knew it was, at least in part. “His name was Seth Ricci.”

  Axel’s brows shot up. His eyes grew wide.

  “It’s hard to live in a town this size and miss anyone’s name. Well, at least the ones that come into the shop,” I explained. “Lucky for you, your zombie used to be a regular.”

  Axel nodded. “That makes sense.”

  “And you propose following Zombie Seth how?” I asked. “Follow your hunting dog nose?”

  “Wolf,” he said.

  “Wolf,” I said. “No offense intended.”

  “None taken,” Axel replied. “But my sense of smell isn’t like that of a hound dog. I was thinking more along the lines of following you.”

  It was my turn to stare at him.

  “To his house,” Axel said. “Do you know where he lives?”

  “I do,” I replied, “but it’s a long walk.” We could shift, me with my amulet, him completely naturally. I imagined watching him—the slow strip of his t-shirt over ripped abs, the unbuttoning of his jeans. And then I realized my cheeks were hot.

  “Let’s take my bike. It’s still over at the bar.”

  “Yeah,” I said, glad for a different suggestion—any suggestion. “Let’s go.”

  Axel grabbed his leather jacket from the floor and looked it over before slipping it on. It was just like the one my brother had worn, the one that lay on my dresser at home. It was a reminder of the stakes, as if I needed another one. Axel was unconvinced of the danger he faced. It was up to me to make it clear. It was up to me to make sure he understood, so he didn’t end up like Danny.

  The walk from the motel to the bar was quiet. On a mission, no words were required, and it was surprisingly comfortable. A gentle breeze blew, lightening the heavy, humid air. Above the scent of flower blossoms, above oak and everything familiar, was Axel. He was like distant mountains, like flying free, familiar though I’d only once traveled anywhere like it as a child. Somehow his scent was both exciting and comforting. Somehow, so was he.

  We returned to the place we’d started the night, to where we’d first met. But instead of going behind the general store, Axel turned at the Blackened Gator Bar, named for their unique brand of jerky.

  “It’s back here,” he said.

  I followed him to the back lot, which was packed twice as full as the general store ever got. No surprise that beer from the tap trumped microwave pizza. Giant trucks and compact cars packed in next to lines of big, American-made motorcycles. Without issue, Axel navigated to one of the metal bikes that looked just like the rest. I watched as he straddled the thing. His wrist turned on the handle, and the motor roared. With his shoulders squared and his arms out, his white shirt was tight against his chest, and it was hot. Toned abs shone through thin fabric, begging to be touched. Axel inched forward from the parking place, eyes on me. “Climb on.”

  With a hand on his shoulder, I climbed up onto the seat, unsure if this was really such a good idea. The bike was taller, and wider than it looked. The leather rumbled beneath me, as I sat only inches from his back. His scent filled my lungs, mountains and pine, and the leather of his jacket. I could hear his heartbeat, see the subtle movement of every breath.

  “Put your arms around me,” he said.

  I wanted to do it, as much as I was afraid to. I slid my hands to his waist, and laced my fingers together. My body pressed up against his back, the leather cool on my cheek, his abs hard beneath my forearms. He felt better than I’d imagined. He was firmer, warmer.

  “Here we go,” Axel said, and I squeezed my hands together.

  As we picked up speed, the vibrations of the seat resonated through me, the wind whipped my hair, and I held tighter and tighter to Axel. The feeling was amazing—the wind, the speed. It was as close to flying as I’d ever been on the ground. All the while, I held him. Excitement filled me, and I was left wondering which was better—watching him strip, or the feeling of his body in my arms.

  Chapter Eight

  Axel

  Calling this place a house was an understatement. Even in the dark, it was clear that Garfield’s—Seth’s—home was an estate, a mansion, a plantation, or whatever rich people in the south called hotel-sized living quarters. Elaborate white pillars reached three stories high across the front of the porch that was bigger than my childhood home. No other buildings were within sight, only manicured grass and tall trees in every direction.

  We left my bike on the dirt road, out of sight from the mansion, and approached on foot.

  “I expected a house more like the ones in town,” I said, keeping my voice low.

  “Corbeau has more manors than town,” Penny replied.

  When a place has money, it tends to grow. Or at least that had been my experience. Even back in Sawtooth Peaks, where progress seemed impossible, they’d built a ski lodge. Corbeau appeared to have stayed exactly the same however long it had been around. Nothing looked less than a hundred years old. That included the place I’d been staying. Instead of a modern building, the motel lodging was in a converted historic building.

  But mixed with the scents of oak and summer, was the rot of death. Seth was here somewhere.

  “There.” Penny pointed off to the side of the building.

  I looked in that direction, then back at Penny.

  “Wolves have scent and hearing,” she said. “But I’ve got you beat for sight.”

  “You’re full of surprises,” I said.

  The corner of her lips lifted, causing an adorable dimple to form on her cheek. She really was beautiful.

  “Should we shift?” I asked.

  Her smile faded, leaving only the serious fire of determination th
at had drawn me to her in the first place. “You can if you want, but I’m a stronger fighter as-is.”

  And with that, she took off, racing toward the zombie.

  “Penny!” All I could do was run after her. Hell if I’d let her deal with this alone. If Seth had come home to harm his family, that was on me.

  Penny stopped short of the snarling human-shaped creature that knelt over the ground. Its head bobbed into something that smelled distinctly like blood. I stopped by Penny’s side. Seth’s hair was missing in chunks. Was he decaying? His odor said he was. And it seemed to be happening quickly. He looked much worse than he had at the motel.

  We were too late to stop him from causing harm, but with any luck, not too late to protect his family. “Is that… a dog?” I asked, regretting the food that churned in my stomach.

  At the sound, Seth’s head snapped toward us. I stepped forward and raised my arm, instinctively placing myself between the monster and Penny.

  “Possum,” Penny replied, lowering my arm.

  I reached toward my belt, for the sheathed knife that Penny had dropped for me the night before. The one I was supposed to use for just this. A glimmer of moonlight on silver and I saw it—in Penny’s hand.

  Gllllrrrfff. Feet fumbled across the grass, Seth ran with his arms reaching. Yellow eyes glowed. His jaw hung, unhinged on one side, no longer the man he had appeared to be just hours before.

  His nails caught on Penny’s shirt, and the calm I’d worked so hard to find was gone in an instant. Adrenaline and anger, I tore my clothes off, and dove without thought. Bones cracked as I moved, shifting for survival—Penny’s survival. My senses sharpened, the stink of the zombie twice as rancid as before, the sound of his faint, erratic heartbeat more pronounced.

  Penny bounced between feet, dodging the zombie’s advances, cutting and countering with her knife for every movement he made. My fangs sunk through soft, mushy flesh. The taste was rancid. I had to fight my gag reflex. Seth’s femur snapped from the pressure—too little pressure to cause such a thing, which was another sign his body was failing him fast. I released, expecting him to stop. But he didn’t. Dragging his leg behind him, he continued after her.