by Ranae Rose
Her examination of the dog took all of five minutes.
“Well,” Gus asked, “any idea what took a chunk out of this pooch’s ear?”
Alex was faithfully pointing and shooting, the camera trained on Gus and the veterinarian.
The vet held her hands up in a cautionary gesture. “These things can be difficult to determine, especially since we have such diverse and abundant wildlife here in the Smokies. It really could’ve been any number of animals. However… In my opinion, this looks canine.”
“Canine?” Gus arched a brow, and Michael could practically see the wheels turning in his head, no doubt trying to determine the most sinister spin he could put on the woman’s words.
The vet nodded. “We have plenty of coyotes here in the mountains, and although it’s not common for them to attack pets, it is possible, especially if any food was left out overnight. Human leftovers or garbage can pose quite the temptation to wild animals.”
Gus seemed to be trying hard to appear to be deep in thought, but he couldn’t keep a frown off his face. “Do you have any other theories, Dr. Mattick?”
“If any other campers had a dog they left untethered…” She gestured at the surrounding trees. “This dog’s injury could easily have been caused by a tussle with another tourist’s pet.”
Gus grimaced.
“Like I said,” Dr. Mattick continued, “it really could’ve been anything.”
“Thank you, Dr. Mattick.” Gus gestured quickly to Alex, motioning for him to stop filming. “That’ll be all.”
She raised a brow. “Don’t you want me to treat this dog’s injured ear?”
“Right.” Gus nodded. “Yeah, of course. I meant, that’ll be all for the interview.”
Michael had no doubt that the veterinarian’s interview session would be heavily edited, probably whittled down to “this looks canine” and “it really could’ve been anything”. In any case, the family that owned the dog gathered round, watching and offering quick pats as their pet had its ear cleaned and patched up by the vet.
As soon as Dr. Mattick drove away, Gus motioned toward Alex again. “Let’s get rolling – the clock’s a-ticking.”
In no time, Gus was poised to deliver another dramatic monologue. “Here at the very campground where Braden Spencer was last seen alive, a menace with a violent bent has struck again. The Peppard family narrowly avoided injury, but their beloved dog wasn’t so fortunate. Rescued from an animal shelter by the Peppards three years ago, Roscoe is luckier than ever to be alive.”
Alex went to work filming the dog from various angles, no doubt zooming in on the bandages. Roscoe endured the filming with good humor, especially for an animal with a cone on its head.
When they were done shooting the dog, they interviewed the kid first. Bright-eyed and maybe ten or eleven, the boy was all too eager to have a group of adults with cameras and microphones giving him their undivided attention.
“Tell me what happened last night, Aiden. Did you see or hear the creature that attacked Roscoe?”
Aiden nodded. “Yeah! It woke me right up. It was like, maybe midnight, and I heard Roscoe barking, then some growling sounds. Then Roscoe started whimpering all high-pitched like dogs do when they get hurt. I unzipped the tent and my dad ran out with a flashlight – Roscoe was going crazy at the end of his cable, and something else was running away into the woods.”
“Did you see it as it ran away?” Gus’ excitement was nearly palpable, even from a distance.
So was the kid’s. “Yeah! Well, sort of. It kind of looked like a wolf or something, only all shadowy. It was really fast, and it was dark out.”
They interviewed the parents after that, who both supported their son’s claims of growling sounds, and said that the animal that had disappeared into the woods had definitely run on four legs and might have been some sort of large canine.
Afterward, Gus retreated to where they’d parked the SUV and paced furiously, the gravel crunching beneath the hiking boots he’d been wearing all day. Eventually, he pulled out a laptop and began clacking away on its keyboard. “Okay,” he said after fifteen minutes of silence that the rest of the crew seemed to relish. “Okay, I’m ready – Alex, get that camera on me.”
Moving slowly, Alex readied his camera and trained it on an impatient Gus.
“Serena, we’ll film your bit after this.” Straightening, Gus looked right into the camera. “Wolves once roamed the Southeastern United States, at home among the mountains I’m standing in right now. Relentless hunting and the urbanization of previously untouched wilderness drove them to extinction, and it’s been over one hundred years since Canis lupus has called this region home.” He paused, presumably for dramatic effect. “At least, that’s what we’ve all been led to believe.
“But have these apex predators really been banished entirely from their native hunting grounds?
“Perhaps not. In the early nineties, efforts were made to reintroduce them to the Great Smoky Mountains. Due to malnutrition, disease and unruly wolves roaming beyond the park’s boundaries, the project was eventually brought to a halt. The reintroduction attempt was considered a failure, but if Braden Spencer and Roscoe the dog were able to speak, they might just tell us differently. Are hungry wolves roaming among unsuspecting tourists, as dark and treacherous as the night itself?
“Here – tonight – we’ll delve deep into the Tennessee wilderness in search of the shadow wolves ourselves.”
Alex shut off the camera as Gus turned on one heel and marched toward the SUV, opening a door and collapsing into a seat like he’d just run a marathon.
“C’mon, Serena,” Alex said, sounding less hostile than usual as he turned to the girl, who’d commandeered the laptop Gus had been using just minutes ago. “Let’s get your two cents in.”
Serena set the computer aside, stepped forward, cleared her throat and introduced herself as the team’s “research expert”. In less than half the time Gus had taken, she rattled off a few facts about wolves, their hunting patterns and various instances of reintroduction efforts.
After that, they piled into the SUV at Gus’ behest, apparently headed for a lunch break.
Michael breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe now he could get back to Kimberly. Even miles from Half Moon Pack territory, her scent still lingered in his lungs, sweet strawberries and cream. The memory of the night before made his mouth water, and he longed for another taste of her, monster hunters be damned.
CHAPTER 5
Kimberly lowered a folded sweater into her suitcase, completing a neat stack. When it was situated, she held on, clinging to one sleeve just like she clung to the past week, not wanting to let go of her time in the mountains.
She couldn’t leave Michael behind. Not after what felt like a lifetime of waiting and hoping. When he’d shown up in the Smokies and approached the Half Moon Pack, she’d been catapulted into a vicious cycle of conflicting feelings – disbelief and shock, uncontainable happiness and yes, anger. The past week had been an emotional spin cycle, and now…
She wasn’t ready for it to end, couldn’t head back to Nashville and pretend everything was normal. No way. Whatever numbness the years had leant her was gone, the deadened nerves in her heart brought back to robust, beating life. Longing gripped her, along with memories of the night before … and that morning.
What did he think of her now – was he dreading her departure as much as she was?
The thought that he might not be stung. She’d waited for him, in her own way, for nearly thirty years – had raised their daughter on her own. There’d been dates, occasionally, after the first few years of isolation, but she’d never felt right with anyone else the way she’d felt right with him. Each of the men who’d briefly been a part of her life had served as reminders of what she’d been missing – what she’d really wanted. So she’d never gotten serious, never allowed another man to fill the role of her partner and Mandy’s father.
She didn’t regret it. She couldn’t, es
pecially not now that she knew she’d been right, that Michael had been alive all along. Alive and wanting her, just like she’d been wanting him.
Did he still feel the same way now that he’d found her?
After all, he was out being a wolf, and she’d never felt more thoroughly human than now, as she packed her bags, preparing to head back to her lonely apartment in Nashville.
The cabin door opened with a soft creak of hinges, and she turned, looking over her shoulder and through the open bedroom door, into the living and kitchen area.
It had to be Michael – the door had been locked.
“Kimberly?” His voice drifted across the cabin, faintly rough and still familiar, even after so many years.
“I’m here.” She finally let go of the sweater sleeve and let her hands hang uselessly at her sides, tingling with the memory of being pressed against his body.
He strode into the bedroom, blue eyes trained on her like he was, well … a wolf. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver of mingled delight and surprise down her spine.
“How was your mission – find out anything new about those monster hunters?”
He nodded, raising a hand to the back of his neck and rubbing. “Yeah. We followed ‘em into the woods, where that hiker fell, and then to a campground. They’ve got it into their heads that wolves are attacking tourists here in the mountains.”
“Wolves?” Her nose wrinkled involuntarily at the memory of the odor of recent death, and she recalled the bite marks left on the hiker’s body, the paw prints in the dirt. “Surely not. There are no wolves in Tennessee.” She tipped her head. “Other than, you know…”
“There were some reintroduction efforts made in the early nineties. I read about ‘em after I figured out that Mandy was here – wanted to know everything I could find out about the place. They weren’t successful, but that Gus Oliver moron is trying to play it off like they’ve survived and flourished in secret and are attacking tourists left and right. Between you and me, it’s possible that a wolf could wander up here – there are a few in North Carolina, not too far from here.”
“So you think wolves really were responsible for those marks on Braden Spencer’s body?”
Michael shook his head. “Those marks and those prints… There were some big animals up there. A lot bigger than the average red wolf, which is the type they tried to reintroduce here. They’re smaller than grey wolves, kinda like a grey wolf / coyote hybrid, as far as size goes. I don’t think it’s very likely that there are trophy-sized red wolves in these mountains, and even if there were, they’d just be animals. Not monsters.”
Kimberly nodded. “I guess it’s not strange that animals were attracted to the body – if it had taken any longer for us to find him, he might have been…” She grimaced. “Well, nature might have taken its course. To animals, food is food.”
“Exactly. Jack’s real upset over the monster hunters poking around in the mountains, though – right now they’re breaking for lunch, then they’re going to get ready for a nighttime investigation in the woods out yonder.” He tipped his head in the direction he and Kimberly had hiked the night before, where they’d discovered the remains of Braden Spencer. “They’re gonna take their cameras and everything, try to stir up some wolves to capture on film.”
Kimberly sighed. “Well, at least they’ll be gone tomorrow.” And so would she. A pang of regret sailed through her as she eyed Michael, all lean muscle in his jeans and t-shirt. “Does Jack plan to tail them tonight while they’re investigating?”
Michael nodded. “He wants me to go along. I could decline – it’s not like I’m really a member of the pack – but…” He shrugged. “I’ve been gone for so long, missed so much. I don’t want to mess up things with Mandy, especially now that I’m just getting to know her and her pack. If they want me around, then I wanna be there for them, even if it’s just to babysit a crew of morons with a few fancy cameras.”
“From what Mandy’s told me, Jack lived out here on his own for a long time – the last Half Moon wolf. Their territory was all he had, and I guess I can’t blame him for being so protective of it and the pack, now that he’s not alone anymore.”
Michael nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Kimberly’s heart melted, lessening her disappointment. “Anyway, it’s awfully sweet of you to help them out.”
He grimaced. “I don’t feel sweet. I feel just the opposite when I think of how I’d rather spend tonight.”
All at once, she became aware of the intensity of his gaze again – the hard gleam had never left his eyes, and she was vividly reminded of the feel of his equally hard body against hers. “You said the monster hunters are taking a break, right? So you’ve got some time before you have to head out again.”
He never broke eye contact. “Yeah, I’ve got some time.”
Heat shimmered across the surface of her skin, all over her body as he approached her, reaching for her, settling a hand on her hip. The same cocktail of chemicals and emotions that had washed over her the night before returned, a heady mix of desire and just plain need. Outwardly, she’d made it on her own, had sustained her life on the surface, for their daughter’s sake. But inside … life had lacked a lot without him, and now all of that was within reach.
Finally.
She grabbed a fistful of his shirt, letting her knuckles and nails press into his chest as she slid a hand behind his head, into his short hair. It was still soft, even after so many years, barely touched by grey, and the feel of it between her fingers was intoxicating. As their lips neared each other’s, she could smell him, a pleasant mix of forest smells – pine and open air, the earthy spice of dying leaves – and aftershave. Dark stubble cast a faint shadow over his jaw and tickled her cheek and chin as he crushed his mouth to hers.
It was like picking up where they’d left off the night before, only her desire now was even more intense, ripened by a night of waiting. She parted her lips, welcoming him in, letting his tongue tangle with hers. As they kissed, he slipped a hand beneath the hem of her shirt, palming her breasts and tucking his fingertips into the cups of her bra, teasing her nipples.
They sprang up hard and tingling, reminding her of his mouth on one the night before. She felt the pull of desire just like she’d felt his pull then, an inexorable demand for more – for everything they’d once had – that radiated from the core of her being, the very marrow in her bones.
“What do you say we take this back to the bedroom?” he asked after a few minutes, pulling away from her mouth while keeping one hand on her hip and another on her breast.
She nodded, swollen lips tingling, burning for more.
The colorful handmade quilt that covered the bed in her room paled to bland shades of grey in comparison to Michael’s body as he stripped. She’d seen it bare more than a few times over the past week – an agreeable side-effect of his strange condition, his true nature. But not like this.
Her core drew tight, clenching at the sight of his muscle-ridged torso and lean hips, exposed when he shed his shirt. Being a shape-shifter did incredible things for one’s figure, apparently, even as time wore on. His body was more mature than it had been when they’d first met – in a good way.
His muscles were more corded, roped with sinew, and there was hair in places there’d barely been before. Overall, his look was more rugged, more masculine. Or should she say more lupine? The hard lines of lean muscle and presence of dark hair certainly echoed his animal nature.
Either way, her panties were faintly damp, the soft cotton clinging to her overheated skin as he slipped out of his jeans, revealing that he, at least, had foregone underwear.
Maybe it was easier to go without when you might have to shapeshift at any moment. Whatever his reason, she wasn’t complaining.
A pang of regret did hit her, though, as her gaze swept over his body, lingering on scars that marred his skin here and there. There was the round, puckered one on his chest that marked where he’d
been shot just a week ago, the scar tissue already white, healed within hours by moonlight. She’d been there when he’d been hurt, had almost died inside as she’d knelt in the grass beside him that night, hoping to God that his life wasn’t about to end when they’d just been reunited.
That was when she’d stopped being mad at him – stopped harboring resentment toward him for leaving her to raise their daughter alone. The danger he’d left to protect them from had been real … she couldn’t deny that when it had almost taken their daughter’s life – and his – even after all his careful years of avoidance.
There were other scars, too – at least a dozen, all in all – that echoed the truth of how he’d spent his time away. Some large and some small, they were eclectic, faded and scattered across his body. She’d glimpsed them numerous times over the past week and hadn’t been able to help wondering about them then, just like she did now. She had no doubt that the Gruens, the sick and twisted family of shifter-hunters who’d followed him to the Great Smoky Mountains, had given most if not all of them to him.
But he’d survived, and the Gruens were gone now, thanks to him, the entire Half Moon Pack and certain members of the Roaring Water Tribe of bear shifters. Her head still spun a little when she thought about it all, and she pushed thoughts of violence and injury away. She’d ask about his scars later – the way he looked at her assured her that there would be time to talk, to catch up, and the thought was a comfort. As for now…
“I have protection if we need it,” he said, picking up his jeans and fishing something out of a pocket. “Picked it up when I went into town for groceries the other day.”
“Yeah – I saw the box in one of the shopping bags when you got back.” A faint blush heated her cheeks as she remembered the ripple of mingled excitement and surprise that had struck her when she’d seen the package of condoms tucked between a carton of eggs and bag of apples.
“You didn’t say anything. You weren’t offended, were you?”