by Gwen Knight
The sheriff speared Wyatt with a glare. “I appreciate your offer to assist with any werewolf-related cases, I really do.”
“But?”
Shake shrugged. “You’re not a cop.”
There was more to the story, and though Wyatt was prepared to demand the information, the sheriff wasn’t one to be bullied, nor would he try. The relations between the werewolves and humans had been strained since they’d announced their presence to the world more than a decade ago. As a means of tackling the divide, Wyatt had offered himself to the local police, should the need ever arise. They’d never had a reason to take him up on his offer, until now.
“Well, standing up here isn’t doing us any good. I need to get down there. Your perp may have left something I can use to ID him.”
Shane chuckled. “Perp. Already learning the lingo, I see. Next you’ll be applying to be a deputy.”
Wyatt grunted. Fat chance of that ever happening. He might have offered his services to the local police, but that hardly meant he liked them.
“Our medical examiner is pulling in. If she clears you to go down with her, I’ll allow it.”
Wyatt nodded, then rocked back on his heels and let his gaze roam the rich landscape as his thoughts meandered. Without another word, the sheriff loped off to greet a well-dressed woman, whom he could only assume was the medical examiner. He eyed her lush curves beneath her pleated suit, his mouth tugging at the corner.
“Wyatt Turner, this is Dr. Elizabeth Morrison. Elizabeth, this is Wyatt, our resident alpha.”
Dark brown eyes assessed him, her mouth a grim line. “Shane informs you that you would like to come down with me.”
“If you want to know who did this or not, then I need to go down.”
Shane and Elizabeth shared a glance. “Sheriff?”
He shrugged. “If it’s the same unsub as the last one, the DNA tests will prove it.”
“I’m sorry, unsub?” Wyatt questioned.
“Unidentified subject,” Dr. Morrison confirmed without glancing at him.
“But if Wyatt can pick up a scent and track it—”
Wyatt’s mouth twisted. “I’m not a fucking bloodhound.” Nor would he hand one of his own over to the local police. Werewolves had their own laws to abide by.
Elizabeth swung back around, her nose scrunching as her gaze raked his length. “All right. I’ll take you down with me. But know this, I don’t care if you’re an alpha. You do as I say, got it?”
Wyatt unleashed the brunt of his stare on the overbearing woman before him. He loosened his hold on his wolf and allowed the beast to peek out of his eyes, long enough for the color to blanch from the medical examiner’s face. “Whatever you say, princess.”
Rage colored her neck. “I don’t think you understand—”
“Nor do I care,” he informed her. “Alpha means I don’t play the role of lackey. I’ll take you down with me, and you’ll do as I say.”
Fury flashed through her eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Uh, guys?” Shane muttered as he stepped between them.
Without warning, Wyatt strode toward the edge of the gorge and dropped over the side without a rope.
“Mr. Turner!”
The medical examiner’s face was the first to pop over the edge. Chuckling to himself, Wyatt shrugged. “Any moment now, Doc.”
From above came the sound of urgent curses as she slid into her required safety gear. Wyatt took the opportunity to investigate the body before anyone else rappelled down. At first glance, he knew the woman hadn’t been killed here. A brutal attack such as hers tended to leave evidence, of which there was little. The bitter stench of death attacked his nose, but missing from it was the coppery tang of blood. Their victim had been moved after death.
From above, he’d seen the garish marks that marred her torso. Down here, there was no doubt in his mind what creature could have made such a gash. Werewolf claws were thicker and longer than a bear’s. These gouges were bone deep, and most certainly not from a bear. Fortunately for his pack, the scent wasn’t one he knew.
Wyatt studied the poor woman, his attention coming to rest on her face.
Sweet Lord.
He’d seen some disturbing things in his life, but the two gaping holes staring back at him rendered him silent. The fucker had cut out her eyes. Wyatt cursed and whipped a hand through his hair as he thought about the repercussions.
It seemed James had been correct, after all, and as the only alpha in the state, the responsibility would fall on Wyatt to find this psycho.
Yeehaw.
Chapter 2
He was watching her again.
Sky knew the moment his gaze settled on her; she felt a menacing chill lift the hairs on the back of her neck. And no, the chill had nothing to do with the autumn wind that had picked up as she’d vacated the cab. It was him.
At first, everything had felt fine, but after a few minutes, her inner wolf had pricked up her ears, her stance deadly alert. As an innate hunter, she recognized when she became prey.
The moment her plane had touched down, she’d phoned Shane—exactly as the sheriff had insisted—but he’d asked her to wait until he could send a patrol car for her. That idea hadn’t sat well with her. She wanted her home, her bed, and her bathtub. A long, hot soak was exactly what she needed. So, when the cabbie flicked off his light, she’d hopped in.
She shouldn’t have left the cab, not when she knew there was a madman after her, but all she’d wanted was to return home after a particularly exhausting week away. It wasn’t the cabbie’s fault he’d driven over glass, or that the tire had popped. These things happened. And even with a stalker on the loose, she should have been safe for the twenty minutes it would have taken her to walk home. Except, like everything else in her life, even this simple task had gone awry.
She drew in a deep breath, but the blustery wind whisked up a plethora of scents that overwhelmed her nose. Thankfully, she could still hear, and there in the distance were footsteps wading through the dead leaves. The crunch of his steps echoed her own, as they had for the past six blocks. Though her heart raced forward, she managed to maintain an even pace. Keep calm, as the mantra said. Could be a friendly pedestrian out for a nighttime walk…down the same paths that she was headed, without any deviation. Right.
A gust of air swirled around her, and riding the current was the recognizable stench of fur and forest. The same scent that had haunted her for the past year. It seemed no matter where she went, there he was. Always in the distance, taunting her.
In the beginning, she’d refused to admit that she was being stalked. She’d thrown away the first letters and silenced the calls in an attempt to assure herself that they were pranks. Even after she’d finally sought out the cops, it’d taken Shane weeks to convince her that there was someone out there who was obsessed with her.
Sky stiffened as a shiver rippled down her spine. She still felt his eyes on her, heard his careful steps as he breached the distance between them. Once upon a time, she hadn’t feared other werewolves—hell, her job was to advocate for them—but life had a way of kicking someone down. It made campaigning for her own kind difficult when one of them had turned her into prey.
Shaking off the terror, she scoped her surroundings, dismayed to find the moonlit streets abandoned. Two blocks north, a large van sat on the curb. It would only provide her a couple seconds of a lead, but that was all she needed.
She counted her breaths as she went, careful to keep them steady. The moment she slipped behind the van, she bolted. For a brief moment, she thought he hadn’t followed, but the sound of his quick footfalls assured her otherwise. Sky kept her eyes forward as she measured her follower’s pace, hopeful the distance between them would grow.
It didn’t.
Her heart fluttered with panic. His steps grew louder, his breaths uneven as he closed the distance between them. A whimper slipped from her lips as she skidded around the next corner, fingers digging into the brick wall
for purchase.
Fear had led her in the wrong direction. Eyes wide, she cursed at the sight of the large park ahead of her. Hardly the best place to escape someone. She feared her only option was to shift. Humans knew of werewolves, but it wasn’t recommended to take wolf form in the middle of the street—public indecency and all that. Not to mention that most humans felt they had the right to hunt any beasts that crossed onto their property, and Sky loathed the idea of her skin hung on a hunter’s wall.
But what other option did she have?
By her estimation, her pursuer had closed half the distance. She listened to the sound of his strained breaths, yet his pace never wavered.
For the first time, she braved glancing back.
A monstrous shadow rushed after her. Even with her heightened sense of sight, she saw nothing beyond his height and build. She contemplated shifting in the middle of the street, but the time it would take to change would cost her everything.
So she did the only other thing she could think of. “Help!”
His stride faltered and a slight hitch carried to her ears.
Sky repeated her plea while dashing toward the park. “Somebody, help!”
Not that there was anyone around to assist, but her outburst had gained her a few spare moments. While her pursuer stumbled over his steps and debated whether or not to continue the chase, she shucked her clothing and let her frightened wolf take over. Fear hastened her shift. Fur sprouted from her skin as her bones cracked and reshaped.
Nails skittering against the pavement, she kicked off the last leg of her jeans and raced forward once more. Another curse zinged through the air as her pursuer realized what she’d done.
The distance between them grew with every stride until she could no longer hear him. Still, she continued to bark for help. If the humans refused to answer, perhaps someone of her kind would. She tore through the secluded woods, zipping around trees and ruffling piles of leaves, all while howling at the top of her lungs.
A final glance back revealed her success. The only shadows were those of the park. Heart in her throat, she turned, her chest heaving as she struggled to slow her breath. She’d done it. Thank goodness.
Jubilant, she did a quick circle and chuffed her pleasure. Whoever had been following her was long gone. If only she could fist pump the air. Instead, she contented herself with a happy yip. She didn’t care that she’d lost an entire outfit along the way, she’d replace every article.
With her tail held high, she turned to continue a light jog home when a large fist grasped her by the scruff and yanked her into the air.
Terror squeezed her heart. Firm digits gripped her and dangled her five feet above the ground as though her weight was no concern.
With a panicked breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and lashed out, kicking with all four paws while snapping her teeth. She couldn’t have cared less what she bit, so long as her captor released her.
The moment her teeth sank into an arm, she rejoiced and dug in until blood gushed into her mouth.
“Jesus H. Christ, woman!” A savage growl rent the night air.
Sky’s heart slammed against her ribs, but rather than release her target, she clamped her jaws down and shook her head like a dog. Her muscles tensed as she awaited retaliation. Instead, her feet continued to dangle, the fingers in her scruff holding tight.
“Are you finished?” came a deep voice.
Sky cracked open an eyelid and peered up from beneath her eyelashes at the scowling giant who held her hostage. She popped open her other eye and let her gaze sweep up his leather-clad length.
Oh, crap!
Swallowing past the searing blood, Sky unlatched her jaw and released the burly arm from her mouth. Now she was in for it. Though she hadn’t caught a glance of her attacker’s face, she highly doubted the alpha of the Colorado River Basin Pack had been the one following her. Though his scent possessed a familiar note of fur, it wasn’t the same as the one who stalked her. She swallowed and braced herself before meeting the alpha’s furious gaze.
“I’m going to release you, now.” His jaw ticked his displeasure. “If you run, I will hunt you down.”
Sky swallowed a slight squeak. Running was what she did best, but rather than test him, she nodded and braced for the slight drop. Instead, he lowered her gently, waiting for all fours to touch the concrete before releasing his grip on her scruff.
“Shift.”
One word, yet she knew this was more than a request. Her bones complied before her mind did, and she groaned as her body crumpled. The shift came slower, her wolf howling in her head the entire time. Run! They weren’t safe until they were behind locked doors. But she couldn’t. The alpha had warned her of the repercussions if she did. Not to mention that she was too exhausted to shift again so quickly, and outrunning him on two legs didn’t seem possible.
With a wavering breath, she pushed to her feet with a grunt, her lashes fluttering as she staggered to the side. No helping hands came from the alpha; instead, Sky gripped the nearest tree until the dizziness passed. Only then did she open her eyes.
The alpha stood across from her, blood slowly seeping from his injured arm as he leaned against a lamppost. Ambient light shone down on him, illuminating his massive frame, slate eyes, and rigid jaw. At first glance, Wyatt Turner was a truly frightening man. Every inch of him was hardened muscle, as though he made it a personal goal to maintain zero body fat, something most would have killed for. Truthfully, though, his fit frame had more to do with his rough-and-tumble lifestyle as did the jagged scar that began at the corner of his mouth and slashed across his cheek. Or so her dossier claimed. It was her job to know the many alphas scattered around the country—and Wyatt was not someone easily forgotten.
Her gaze raked over the terrifying scar. She couldn’t recall its history, nor could she tear her eyes away from it. In the amber light, it stood in stark relief, highlighting the unnatural crook of his mouth. Another scar severed the edge of his right eyebrow, though his eye remained untouched. He was one bad-ass mofo, his extraordinary frame hugged by the finest leathers.
He cocked a thick brow and studied her, the slight twitch in his wide jaw the only indication that his arm ached. “Explain.”
Skylar’s nerves fluttered in her stomach and she gazed back the way she’d come. Nothing. For all intents and purposes, the park appeared abandoned. Her nostrils flared as she drew in a breath—still nothing. But she knew the truth. She’d felt the chill deep down in her bones. He’d been here.
The alpha cleared his throat.
Sky turned back to him, an embarrassed blush chasing over her cheeks. Like she wanted to admit to an alpha that she’d run from a threat. No werewolf worth a grain of salt would have acted in such a way, but it wasn’t as though it was a human stalking her. It rankled her to no end that she’d run, but her stalker was a full-blooded male werewolf. What chance did she stand in a fight?
“I—I know it isn’t recommended to shift in city limits,” she stuttered as she gazed down her bare length. Thankfully, nudity was a regular occurrence in the daily routine of a werewolf.
“So, you thought you’d run around howling for shits and giggles? Doesn’t explain why you reek of fear or,” he held up his arm, “this.”
Sky blew out a harsh breath. “I was being followed, all right?”
The other brow winged up, and the alpha pushed off the lamppost. He strode toward her, his muscles bunching beneath the leather as he moved, and drew in a deep breath. She knew what scents he’d find—moss, grass, dead leaves—nothing that indicated the presence of anyone other than them.
A flicker of skepticism darkened his eyes. “No one here but you and me.”
Her mouth twisted and she let her gaze sweep his length, taking in the dark blue jeans that peeked out from beneath his chaps and the black T-shirt stretched across his chest. It was true—it was only the two of them… Fear punched through her gut. Surely, that couldn’t mean Wyatt had been the one following
her, could it? She knew there were alphas who could mask or change their scent, but he couldn’t have been the one stalking her. Though…she recalled the shadowed image of the brute that had chased her through the streets, and she realized with a jolt of fear that Wyatt was the right height and build.
Before she could speak on her behalf, Wyatt stepped over the path and approached her. Sky’s breath caught, the sheer size of him pushing her back a step. His hand reached out, and she watched with a parted mouth as he grasped a strand of her hair and wrapped it around his index finger.
“Blonde,” he stated, his mouth pursed as though her hair color offended him. His gaze drilled into hers as he grabbed her chin and forced her head up. “Blue eyes.”
Her heart shot up into her throat. Had her assessment of Wyatt Turner been wrong? His scent was different! But her wolf scolded her for basing her impression off such an inane thing. She knew what alphas were capable of! Sky went still, her blood like ice as she faced who she now believed to be her stalker. Fight, her wolf howled in her head.
The alpha leaned in, and when he drew in her scent, she snapped her knee up, drilling him in his tender bits before she turned and fled.
Chapter 3
Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
Wyatt groaned and staggered for the nearest tree, the air rushing from his lungs. It’d been years since anyone had dared sack him. And while he wanted nothing more than to drop to his knees and pray to the heavens above that his boys still dangled from the appropriate spot, he couldn’t allow the she-wolf to escape.
So he stood straight, shook off the blow, and raced forward, his stride a little bowlegged thanks to that sharp knee. What he hadn’t expected was to have to sprint to keep up with her, quick-footed little minx that she was. Nor had he expected a small smile to tug at his lips as he watched her firm ass book it through the mossy trees. Stark naked, and that hardly slowed her. Someone had eaten her Wheaties. ’Course, he had to remember that the little devil had attacked him and disobeyed his order. He mustn’t forget that.