Cursing under his breath, he pretended to look away, never letting the animal out of his peripheral vision. The storm masked all scent, which meant he could be as much of a surprise to the beast as the beast was to him.
Still, he needed a better look to determine if the wolf was natural or the Feral shifter he’d been sent to find.
Dropping back, he took shelter from the wind inside his tent and began stripping off his clothing. Exposed human skin would lead to hypothermia and frostbite if he wasn’t quick, so he began the change at the same time as he yanked off his shoes. Protectors were taught ways to facilitate the change and from a young age Simon could change to wolf and back in the blink of a human eye. He was grateful for this ability now, as still human, he shivered from the cold.
An instant later, he had his wolf’s thick winter pelt as protection. Padding forward, he poked his shaggy head out from his makeshift shelter. He saw no sign of the other wolf.
He attempted to explore the area around his tent, but was unable to even locate tracks in the blowing, shifting snow. Searching in this kind of weather was pointless. Admitting temporary defeat, he returned to the tent and changed back to his human form. Crawling into his subzero sleeping bag, he zipped it closed and slept.
The next morning, Simon woke to the absolute stillness that always follows a blizzard. Snow had covered his small tent, weighing down the sides, yet insulating him from the wind and the worst of the cold. Warm and rested, he unzipped his sleeping bag and sat up, aware he’d have to dig his way out. He could only hope that when he emerged from the tent he didn’t find himself surrounded by wolves.
First though, he had to make his report. Since his cell had satellite uplink, making connection would be no problem. The gadget worked in even the most remote places.
“Protector Simon reporting in.” Simon kept his voice clipped, revealing nothing. The Council discouraged optimism when dealing with Ferals. More of a guilty-until-proven-innocent approach. “Feral spotted, location noted.”
“How long before we have a full report?”
“I don’t know.” Simon clenched his teeth to keep from cursing. “There’s a blizzard up here, making it difficult to properly assess.”
“We need a time frame.”
Inside the subzero tent, he was dry. Outside, the snowdrifts made him feel as if he were halfway up Mount Everest rather than the foothills west of Boulder. “Depends on how quickly I see her again. I’ve still got to make contact so I can do a better assessment. I’m thinking a month.”
“Too long. Two weeks. Standard procedure when we’re backlogged. Make another report in seven days.” Before Simon could reply, the dispatcher disconnected the call.
Which meant Simon had been given two weeks to decide if the woman he’d spotted would live…or die.
Now he could curse, and he did. Stowing his phone in the backpack, he checked his watch. Eleven o’clock. Later than he’d realized.
Digging in his backpack, he located some field rations, popped the lid and scarfed them down. He had a choice—he could track as human, which would necessitate multiple layers of clothing in preparation for the frigid outside temperatures. Or he could hunt as wolf, with his warm winter coat and heightened senses.
For him, his no-brainer choice this time would be wolf. He had thick fur, calloused paw pads and his sharpened lupine senses. Even better, he’d perfected the ability to change back and forth from human to wolf nearly effortlessly. As long as he didn’t stay wolf too long, the act of changing didn’t deplete his strength.
Yesterday, the storm had rendered his nose virtually useless, but today the calm winds and unbroken surface snow would provide clues easily followed. Today, he’d hunt down the Feral and make an assessment.
He crawled to the center of the tent in preparation for his change. Time to resume the search.
Keeping her distance, Raven tracked the man, her jet-black fur standing out in the snow. As wolf, she kept low to the ground, uneasily skirting the tent he’d left up, which meant he planned to stay longer. She didn’t understand why—the snowstorm had gone and the brilliant morning sunlight showed a clear path down the mountain.
So she followed him now, hoping to learn what he wanted with her mountain.
Her pack, hungry and wild, had wanted to hunt him as a trespasser. While part of her, the Feral, wolf part, understood and even agreed with this—the human half of her had known instinctively that to do such a thing would bring death and destruction upon their mountain. Plus, she was half human. She knew enough not to hunt her own kind.
Since she couldn’t kill him, she’d watch him until he left. If he didn’t go soon, she’d try to figure out a way to persuade him.
Ahead of her, where the man had ducked into his tent and lit some sort of lantern, his human silhouette showed he moved inside on all fours. Wolf Raven froze, every hair on her back raising. As she watched, the human shape undulated, flowed and changed. Became…wolf.
Stunned, Raven spun on her heels. Heart pounding, she bolted for her cave.
Once inside, she skidded to a halt, moving among her pack, sides heaving. Finally, letting their scent and their touch calm her, she went to her corner and crouched down on the cold stone. Changing back to human, she dressed quickly, gathering the Old One’s heavy pelt around her shoulders.
She couldn’t understand what she’d just witnessed. This man, this stranger with his unusual scent, had done as she did. He’d gone from human to beast, changing forms in the blink of an eye.
She hadn’t known such a thing was possible in others. The entire foundation of her world had begun cracking under her. For her entire life, she’d believed she was an anomaly, a freak of nature. The only one.
Now, the appearance of this stranger proved she was not. The fact that she’d witnessed his change meant she was no longer alone.
She spoke the words out loud, once, twice and then again, savoring the sound. No longer alone. She should have felt exhilarated, energized. In a way, she did. Or, a tiny part of her did. Mostly though, she felt afraid.
She’d gotten used to a solitary existence. While she wouldn’t call it comfortable—hell, who could say living in a cave was the cushy life—it felt safe. Untouchable. Loneliness wasn’t something she often thought of, not with her pack always close. After all, the wolves were her own kind, too, and if the other side of her, the human side, went unfulfilled, too bad. She hated the human side anyway. All of the bad things that had ever happened had been when she was human. If she could have chosen, she would stay as wolf always.
But another like her, half wolf? The very possibility dazzled.
Again, she thought of the man changing into the wolf. Then she remembered the professor and the experiments he’d done to her, of the way he’d been intent on learning what gave her the ability to change shape from human to wolf and back again. She wondered if he had known there were others like her and, if so, why he hadn’t told her. Or, when he’d decided she was no longer useful, why he hadn’t taken her to them, rather than dumping her alone in the woods to die.
She had a clear choice. She could pretend she’d never seen the stranger change and delude herself that her world would always be exactly the same. Untouched, unchanged.
Or she could contact him, talk to him, make him give her answers to the thousand questions now tumbling around in her head.
She sighed. She’d never believed in lying—not to herself or to others—so she already knew what her choice would be.
She had to contact the stranger. But how? Did she want to meet him face-to-face? If so, as wolf or as human?
She decided she would sleep first, then make a decision.
Early the next morning, in the final hour before the sun rose, while shadows still overtook part of the mountain, Raven went to his tent. He’d already left. She could follow the human footprints he’d left in the snow, or…
Heart pounding, she took the liberty of entering the tent without an invitation.
&n
bsp; Inside, she found little of interest. A warm, subzero-rated sleeping bag that she instantly coveted, a small, portable cookstove that ran on a metal can of compressed air and a backpack made of the same bright yellow material as the tent. His thick parka—another item she’d have liked to have ever since hers had been lost in a springtime flash flood—had also been left behind. From this she knew he’d gone hunting in his wolf-form. She approved of this, glad he hadn’t brought shotguns or human weapons with which to kill his prey.
Panic fluttered in her throat. The small structure suddenly felt too warm. Confining. She didn’t want to be trapped inside when he returned. As she’d intended, she left him a half-frozen rabbit haunch from last night’s meal. Hopefully, he’d realize this was a peace offering and once he’d eaten, he’d take her up on her invitation to visit her cave. She’d make sure to leave an easy-to-follow trail.
Returning from his morning hunt as the sun rose over the eastern mountains, Simon stopped ten feet from his shelter. Fresh human tracks in the snow told him he’d had an early visitor.
The Feral. Suddenly wary, he approached the tent from the back side, circling around and then turning to check the perimeter.
The tent was now empty.
His snout told him she’d been there. As human.
Pushing through the flaps, he entered. She’d left a peace offering. Good.
Ignoring the rabbit haunch, he exited and followed her tracks to her lair.
He approved of the cave. Well hidden behind a clump of evergreens, the location provided protection from both the elements and any hapless humans.
Entering slowly, he stopped a few feet inside to let his eyes adjust to the darkness.
Back against one wall, the Feral watched him. She’d chosen to meet him as human. Unusual, especially in one rumored to be as Feral as she. At first, he narrowed his lupine eyes and, nose full of the musky scent of woman, stood motionless, waiting for her to make the first move.
“As man,” she said, her low voice both husky and insistent. That voice sent a chill through him, a manifestation of something he immediately discounted.
“Change back to human,” she repeated, as though unsure if he’d understood. “I want to talk to you.”
Again the chill, the sense of foreboding. Ignoring this, he lowered his head and changed.
Man again, he climbed slowly to his feet and faced her. Even though they both were naked, for an instant he felt self-conscious doing so with his arousal jutting at her. But every shifter he knew became aroused when changing. Since she was of his kind, surely she knew this and would take no offense. He hoped.
But how Feral was she? How much did she know about her own kind?
Her eyes widened as she looked him over, her gaze sliding down the length of him. To his shock, he felt heat where her look touched him. A slow burn. Unable to help himself, he took a step toward her.
She made a sound, low in her throat. Not quite a keening, nor a wail, not even a whimper. He’d never heard the like before, whether in man or beast. Whatever it meant, the sound brought her pack to her, gliding into the cave silently, crouched low and ready to attack. To defend.
Shit. He’d forgotten about her wolves. Since his weapon was with his clothes, piled in a hasty heap inside his tent, if he wanted to survive, he had no other option but to change back to his animal shape.
Cursing his carelessness, he did. One second he was man, the next, wolf.
The clustered group of shaggy wolves froze. One whimpered low in her throat. Another—one of the males—growled. As a unit, they looked toward the woman for direction or command.
With shock, Simon realized she was their Alpha. This was unusual. Most Ferals adopted into a pack led the quiet life of a follower.
She made no sound, no gesture, nothing to indicate her next move. Instead, she stood and stared, her gaze locked on his, visibly shivering in her human skin. Then, without taking her gaze from his, her lips moved soundlessly as she changed, becoming wolf between one breath and the next.
Inwardly, Simon flinched. Not possible. The speed of her shape-shifting rivaled his, and he’d gone through years of training to be able to change so quickly. She was Feral, uneducated and alone. The speed of her change shouldn’t be possible.
A low rumbling from one of the wolf pack made him push the question from his mind. Questions could come later, if he survived this first meeting.
The Feral-as-wolf took a step toward him. In her animal form, she was a hundred times more dangerous, all teeth and claws and thick winter coat.
Wolf-Simon stood absolutely still, prepared to fight if necessary, resigned to the fact that this would be one battle he’d be lucky to emerge from alive and unscarred.
For a moment the only sound in the cave was the steady thump of Simon’s heart. Then, without even so much as a growl to warn him, the Feral wolf leaped, teeth bared.
Chapter 2
R aven didn’t know why she thought she could threaten him with an attack. But she had wanted to intimidate him, so he’d tell her what she needed to know.
She thought it’d be easy, cut-and-dried. But she was used to being Alpha of her own natural-wolf pack. Perhaps part of her forgot he was also human and therefore subject to the powers of reason.
Therefore, though she weighed fifteen pounds less, when she launched herself, she half expected him to give way immediately. After all, her own wolves did.
He did not move.
She hit him hard, which should have rolled him, but he didn’t go down. Instead, to her shock, he launched a counter attack, snarling and biting back, using teeth and jaws and claws that were easily twice the size of hers.
Locked together, they rolled on the cold stone, truly fighting. Her own pack formed a ring around them, watching from a respectful distance, their eyes glowing blue in the dim light. They would not defend her, not against another of their own kind. This fight for dominance was natural to them, their way. Whoever came out of this battle victorious would be their new pack leader.
Emotions—whether they loved Raven or not—didn’t factor into things. They were wild beasts, nothing more, and if she humanized them, that was her own half-human fault.
None of that mattered. Right now, she had her life to defend. She was on top, her teeth inches from the other’s throat, when inexplicably, her body began to betray her.
The change, unbidden, flickered through her. Not now! Not now. She’d surely die if she were to become human in the middle of this fight.
She hated this, hated that she could not control the impulses of her headstrong body. Oh, the second she became fully human, she could force herself into an instant change back to wolf, but the energy would drain her and render her unable to fight.
Damn it.
As the huge male wolf flipped her on her side, she felt herself becoming human. But she wasn’t prepared to die.
The other—the wolf-man—hesitated. To her shock, though he could have easily ripped out her throat and ended this, he pulled back. His teeth merely grazed her skin.
As her wolves inched closer, ready to defend her since she was now human, the stranger glared down at her, his lupine eyes glowing.
She held herself perfectly still, waiting for him to decide her fate. His winning the battle on a technicality did not make him Alpha, at least as far as she was concerned.
With a flip of his head, he gave a mighty shudder, and became human, too.
“We need to talk,” he said. His accent, the source of which she vaguely recognized, gave the words an exotic inflection.
Exotic! She snorted. What could be more exotic than two freaks who could change from human to beast and back again? She wanted to ask questions, to learn if his existence meant there were others, perhaps an entire pack of them, but fear held her back. Fear and an odd kind of stubbornness.
He held out his large paw—er, hand—as though he expected her to take it and let him help her up. To her own shock, she did.
Climbing to her
feet, she let go as soon as she was standing, glaring at him, unsure what, if anything, she should say.
“Come.” He led her to the corner of the cave where her discarded clothing lay in a heap. As he handed her the Old One’s pelt, her nerveless fingers couldn’t hold on and her coat slipped to the cave floor.
They both bent to retrieve the cloak at the same time, noses nearly colliding.
His nostrils flared. Though Raven jerked back, stupidly, she let herself get caught in his gaze. His eyes compelled her, drew her, with their irises so dark they were almost black. Beautiful, long-lashed eyes.
Belatedly, she jerked away. Even with her human nose, she could smell his desire. His engorged male part confirmed it. He smelled of mint and man and lust.
Raven remembered that scent. Knew it and hated it.
Horror filled her…and rage. Never again, she’d sworn once, and meant it.
Glaring at him, she bared her teeth, letting him see her fury and her fear.
Palms up, he dipped his chin. “I mean no harm. This usually happens with males when we change from wolf to man. Please. Get dressed.”
While not liking the way he had her backed up against the wall, she wasted no time. Dressing in silence, she watched through her lashes as he stood naked in front of her, apparently impervious to the cold.
“You dress, too,” she ordered.
“My clothes are in my tent.”
Crossing her arms, she jerked her head toward the cave opening. “I’ll wait.”
He changed to wolf before she’d finished and padded away. When he returned, he was man again, and fully dressed.
In addition to his normal clothing, he wore a down-filled parka that she sorely envied, remembering the warmth of them from her days spent among other humans. She continued to watch him, wondering what he wanted with her mountain, her cave, her pack, her.
Finally he faced her. She lifted her chin, waiting. Now what?
“Call them off.” He gestured at her wild pack, still circling them, uncertain and wary.
Wild Wolf Page 2