Logan landed on all fours, the world taking a strange convex perspective. Scents and sounds became more important than sight, strength and speed more important than thought.
Nadia’s trail blazed in front of him, her unique demon scent like a white-hot streak. Logan picked up other smells—the nose-curling odor of exhaust and oil, the stench of hot rubber. The wolves had left their own unmistakable smells as well.
Logan followed, nose to the ground. He hadn’t met these specific wolves before, but the scent of Logan’s pack and their leader had been imprinted on them. They were Matt’s all right.
The tread of a motorcycle wound up the hill under the trees a little way from the wolf tracks. They’d chased Nadia this way and did nothing to hide their passage.
Logan ran through the woods, the trail so easy to follow he didn’t have to work very hard. He loped quietly, knowing how to miss dry leaves and tinder, how to keep to the darkest shadows.
He spotted a glare of firelight in the late afternoon gloom. Not only had the wolves not bothered to hide their tracks, an odd thing for a Were to do, but the fire broadcast their position. Were they trying to get caught? Or so careless they thought they couldn’t be?
Logan crouched low, keeping downwind so they wouldn’t catch his scent, and slunk toward the campsite. Four men sat around the fire drinking coffee, the human holding an uncocked shotgun over his arm. They looked like typical hunters in their thick jackets and hats against the cold, except that three of them were wolf shifters.
Logan didn’t recognize the wolves or the human who held the shotgun, but again, he scented Matt on them. Where the hell was Matt?
“Damn cold out here,” one wolf said.
“You can always change back to your fur coat,” the human said, obviously trying to be funny.
The wolves only looked at him, and the man fell into nervous silence.
One of the shifters got up restlessly from his camp chair and started pacing. “What’s to say the bitch won’t get away while we’re warming our asses?”
“She won’t,” the human said with confidence. “No one escapes one of my nets. It’s woven with spells I got from a life-magic witch. Don’t worry; it will hold a demon. She’ll be there when we’re ready.”
The pacing wolf growled. “I’m ready now.”
“Wait and let her get her strength back. It’s more fun when they fight.”
“I wasn’t thinking about fighting her.”
Logan barely suppressed the snarl in his throat. The beast in him urged him to attack, no waiting, to savage the wolves and human for even thinking about touching Nadia.
Being Packmaster meant more than simply enforcing the pack leader’s law. The Packmaster also protected everyone in the pack from all danger, up to and including that from the pack leader himself. Nadia wasn’t a wolf, but Logan had considered her under his protection since he’d met her, when she’d been broken and grieving in the hospital.
The instinct to fight those who threatened her was strong. Logan needed to taste blood.
Reason kept him in his hiding place. Though Packmasters were bred for bulk and strength, three wolves plus a shotgun versus one pissed-off Packmaster were long odds.
Logan swallowed his fury and circled the camp, moving in near silence to where he’d spotted the human’s motorcycle just outside the circle of light. He morphed into human form to crawl the last few feet to the bike, using its bulk to shield him from the four men at the fire.
Logan knew exactly which wires to yank to prevent the motorcycle starting again. He was tempted to cut the fuel line, but a gas leak would smell, and there was open flame out here. The bike could explode, the ensuing fire spreading quickly through dry woods.
Logan coiled the wires in his hand and slunk back into the shadows. Once he was well away from the camp, he paused to bury the wires in the underbrush, and morphed back to his wolf.
He followed Nadia’s scent up the ridge. He picked his way through dry underbrush, until he finally found her, trussed up and tied between two close-growing, thick-boled trees. She was naked, in her human form, a net that smelled of magic clinging to her curves like a bizarre designer gown.
Nadia’s dark eyes widened as she spotted Logan slinking toward her, her scent changing to one of terror plus a healthy dose of defiance. She must think one of the assholes from the camp was coming for her.
Logan quickly morphed into human form. “Hey,” he whispered. “You all right?”
Nadia wilted, a scent of relief replacing her fear. She closed her eyes a moment, then opened them again, her dark gaze meltingly beautiful as always.
“Damn, Logan,” she said, her voice breaking. “I never thought I’d be so glad to see a werewolf in my life.”
Chapter Three
Nadia went slack with relief. Logan, the tawny-haired, golden-eyed wolf shifter cop who’d been strangely kind to her, had come charging to her rescue. He looked at her with concern in his eyes, and asked if she was all right.
He was also stark naked. His human body was absolutely beautiful without a stitch of clothing. Hard muscle moved under what little light filtered down through the trees, his golden eyes glinted in a hard face. He was a large man, but able to bend his lithe limbs into a crouch next to her. Naked, tight, nice.
Nadia managed a nod, and answered his question. “Exhausted, starving, scared out of my mind. Other than that, just fine.”
Logan reached for the net, then hissed and jerked his hand back. “Damn, there’s silver in it.”
“Yep,” Nadia said. “To keep the werewolves from tearing me up. It’s also full of life-magic, anti-demon spells, which are making me sick. I can’t even shift to demon form. The Weres are waiting for somebody, from what I can tell. I guess they want me whole when he gets here.”
Logan didn’t answer, but it wasn’t worry she saw in his eyes as he studied the net, or even cop-like efficiency. It was pure rage.
Nadia didn’t know why everything in her was so happy to see him, other than the fact he might get her out of here. Logan was werewolf, life-magic, and shifters hated demons. He had no reason to help her.
But in the past six months, Nadia had seen something different in Logan from the usual hate-all-demons attitude of wolf shifters. Logan was a good cop, helping paranormals regardless of species, and locking up the ones that broke the law. He was fair, loyal to his friends, and had integrity. Nadia had come to look forward to their casual nights out, enjoying their developing but unusual friendship. She’d thought maybe Logan enjoyed it too. She’d never hinted at her fantasies of taking things further than friendship, and Logan had never hinted of any either. They had a truce, an understanding. Nadia refused to mess it up.
Until she’d been taken and hunted through the mountains, and had instinctively turned to him for help. She’d figured he’d send police up here after her, but Logan had come himself. That fact made Nadia’s heart pound and her body weaker than it already was.
In silence, Logan searched for a way to pull off the net without touching it. Wolf shifters couldn’t touch silver—something in it messed with their life-magic essence. Nadia didn’t understand much about life-magic creatures, but she knew they had their vulnerabilities, just as death-magic creatures did. With vampires it was light; demons, witch spells; werewolves, silver.
“I need tools.” Logan carefully reached through the holes in the net and touched Nadia’s face. His fingers were amazingly warm, his fingertips callused. “The last thing I want to do is leave you out here, but I have to get my stash down the hill.”
Nadia tried a grin. “What, you didn’t have a rescue-dog pack strapped to your back?”
“Funny.” Logan caressed the tiny bit of her cheek again, starting all kinds of fires within her. “You sit tight, and I’ll be back here as fast as I can.”
“Sure. Where the hell else am I gonna go?”
Logan kept his fingertips on her face, maybe trying to give her reassurance in the wolf way. Wolves liked touc
h. And you know, Nadia thought shakily, it’s working for me.
“I won’t leave you here for them, Nadia,” Logan said. “I swear that to you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
She wanted to nuzzle his hand, but the net wouldn’t let her. Logan gave her a long look, withdrew, shifted to his wolf, and vanished into the shadows.
Waiting for Logan wasn’t pleasant. Nadia could hear the Weres arguing with each other in their camp down the hill. They were shouting at each other, voices carrying. One of them proposed going at Nadia right away—they should chase her, catch her, and share her between them, then kill her in whatever hideous way they decided. The others kept telling him they needed to wait for some person they didn’t name. While they argued, the woods grew darker with coming night, and the air developed a cold bite.
But Logan had found her.
Nadia fought the compulsion to lie back, close her eyes, and relax all her defenses. The sane part of her knew nothing was all right. Even if Logan did rescue her from the hunters, this was far from over.
She’d known Logan for a powerful werewolf the first time she’d met him. She’d been alone in a hospital bed grieving the death of her sister, when a tall, hard-faced man with wolf eyes had stalked in to question her. He’d reeked of werewolf and life magic, and she’d seen anger in his eyes. During the interview, Nadia had realized the anger was toward the people who’d kidnapped her and tortured her, killing her sister. Logan, a life-magic creature, had been outraged that humans had hurt her. A werewolf who cared about what happened to a demon.
She’d thought about the strange encounter for a long time afterward. A chance meeting with Logan at a Harley shop several months later had led them to grab a pizza at a nearby sports bar, which would have been harmless if they’d both been human.
Beneath their mundane conversation, Nadia had sensed Logan’s restlessness, the power of his wolf. The demon in her thought about fighting him, to see what he was made of. The female in her wanted to sleep with him. No, not to sleep with him—that sounded too tame. All-night, sweat-soaked, hard-pounding sex—that was what she hungered for. She’d wake up tangled in the sheets with him, smile at him, and do it all over again.
Nadia wondered what she wanted most. Was it the seductive danger of sex with a life-magic creature, or being with Logan specifically?—his hot gaze roving her, his big hands on her body.
But Nadia had sworn off sex since Bev had died. She hadn’t had the heart for it, hadn’t desired anyone, human or demon. Maybe her celibacy had been a mistake, because anytime she saw Logan, she went all that more hot.
The argument between the werewolves escalated. The one who urged them to go after her now would soon lose patience with the others and do what he pleased, regardless. Werewolves were all about the good of the pack, but when pack safety wasn’t a question, they went with their own instincts.
Come on, Logan.
Nadia stifled a shriek when something touched her skin. It was Logan, crouching next to her, a knife in his hand, his hair a pale smudge in the gathering gloom. She caught her breath, her pounding heart winding down.
Logan was fully dressed, a fleece-lined coat and a duffle bag lying on the damp ground beside him. Even in her terror, Nadia reflected that though his naked body looked better, he didn’t look bad in a form-fitting black T-shirt and jeans either.
She scented life magic on the knife—witch-spelled. Logan carefully worked its blade through the cords, avoiding touching them with his fingers. Whatever magic was in the knife cancelled out the magic in the net, apparently. Nadia wasn’t certain how life magic worked. Soon the net loosened and fell away from Nadia’s cramped body.
Nadia’s demon immediately tried to flow through and take over, but she found that she couldn’t make the change. The residue of the anti-demon spells crawled on her skin, and she was just too exhausted for the shift.
Logan put his hand on her shoulder. Nadia gasped. Logan’s life essence flowed to her like white fire, the silver and spells in the net no longer dampening it. It was incredible—hot and bright, strong like the mountains, Logan’s heat cutting the chill.
The demon in Nadia told her to reach out and pull that life essence into her—she needed it, craved it. Her hunger burned. Demons had to feed on life essence to survive, and Logan’s cried out to her.
Nadia used all her remaining strength to curl her hands at her sides, to shut down the hunger and not touch him. In her weakened state, she wanted life essence too much. If Nadia opened herself to Logan right now, she might suck Logan dry—which would kill him, powerful werewolf or not.
But she couldn’t entirely shut down her hunger for him. Every part of her yearned for every part of Logan, and had since she’d met him.
Not noticing her dilemma, Logan picked up the coat and draped it around her. The fleece inside held his warmth and the tiny piece of his life essence, which relieved Nadia’s hunger the slightest bit. She shivered and pulled the coat close.
Logan had to help her limp away, but at least he was touching the coat now instead of her bare skin. Walking was difficult, though. Twigs and pebbles cut Nadia’s already raw feet, and she bit back a cry.
Logan immediately lifted her into strong arms. Nadia’s desires came out to play again, but she clenched her hands and closed her eyes against them.
He carried her silently and swiftly beneath the trees, surefooted in the pathless woods. Nadia wasn’t sure how far they’d gone when Logan set her down next to a motorcycle he’d hidden in the scrub. A Harley, sleek and lovely in the dusk.
Logan stowed his gear in the saddle bags and helped Nadia mount the bike. His coat was long enough on her that she could pull it under her butt and not have to sit bare-assed on the cold seat. Logan swung on in front of her, the jolt of his life essence when he slid against her making her crazy. Nadia clenched her teeth and made herself wrap her arms around him.
“They’re going to hear us when I start up,” Logan said. “So keep your head down and hang on tight.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Ready?”
Nadia gave him a nod. Logan pushed the bike forward with his feet and let it coast silently a down the slope before he kicked on the engine.
The roar of the bike was loud in the silent woods. Animals skittered or flapped away, and Nadia heard shouts behind them—the hunters realizing their prey had gotten away.
Logan shot the motorcycle out from under the trees to a jeep trail that ran down the side of the hill. He maneuvered along the twisty, rutted road at high speed with seeming effortlessness. Nadia grinned in spite of her fears and tightened her grip around Logan’s waist. This man could ride.
He navigated them down the mountain to a paved road that dipped and rolled with the terrain. Freezing air flowed over Nadia’s legs, but where she pressed against Logan she was fiery warm.
They were the only vehicle on the narrow highway, passing no others, not even when they came to a little town. Logan pulled into a deserted parking lot of a one-story motel on the main road. Nothing stirred but flakes of snow on the wind as Logan stopped the bike and killed the engine.
He swung off and went a few steps to door number five, unlocking it. Nadia tried to slide off after him, but she didn’t have enough strength even for that. Logan turned back to her, lifted her as though she weighed nothing, and carried her into the musty motel room.
He more or less dropped her onto the bed, but before Nadia could relax into the rather hard mattress, Logan was climbing on top of her, straddling her on all fours, and not in a sexual way. He was a wolf enraged.
His life essence swamped her as he pinned her to the bed, his face grim and set. Anger swirled in his amber-colored eyes, a werewolf in fury.
“All right, Nadia,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “You want to tell me what the hell you’re doing here, and why you’re being chased around the mountains by the leader of my old pack?”
Chapter Four
Nadia’s combined scents of fear and r
elief roused the beast Logan constantly strove to tame. He wanted to shift to wolf, to close his mouth gently over her throat as though she were an unruly cub who had to learn to obey. Then he’d shift back and kiss her, warming her and taking what he wished. The erotic position and Logan’s own worry were making his body hot and pounding hard.
Nadia glared up at him with coffee-brown eyes that held a hint of demon red. “It’s none of your business what I’m doing here. I didn’t ask those wolves to hunt me.”
Logan lowered his face to hers, breathing in her scent. “You called me. Why, if you’re only going to lie to me?”
Her eyes flickered. “Yours was the first number I could remember.”
That wasn’t a lie, Logan saw, but not the entire truth either. He resisted the urge to shake the story out of her—at the same time he resisted smoothing her dark hair and whispering that everything would be all right. Nadia’s hair would be silky soft and so would her skin.
“Why did you need me at all?” he made himself ask. “Why not just morph to demon and fight them?”
Her brows drew down in a scowl that still managed to be beautiful. “That question shows you know damn-all about demons. Even if you’re cozy with a demon matriarch.” Nadia’s voice was hard, but she smelled of sharp fear.
“Did they hurt you?” Logan asked, unable to keep the growl from his voice. “If they touched you, I’ll go back and kill them.” The last words ended in an inhuman snarl. Facing three pissed-off werewolves by himself, not to mention a human with a gun, would be stupid, but Logan didn’t care at the moment.
“They didn’t,” she said, still rigid. “I’m just tired. I ran for such a long time.”
She closed her eyes, her face too pale in the harsh yellow glare of the bedside lamp. Nadia was exhausted yes—anyone would be—but she was also demon, and she needed more than just food, water, and a place to sleep.
Wolf Hunt Page 2