The Black Wolf

by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  Since tone of voice and sharing confidences were other components of seduction, they didn’t speak. Prolonged eye contact had to be avoided.

  When golden streaks of sunlight finally filtered into the room, Rafe got up to stretch his legs. After removing his shirt and his boots, he took Cara by the hand and led her to the door. He preceded her down the steps and across the sidewalk that bordered the sand. There, he pulled her around so that she had to look at him.

  “Freedom at last,” he said. “But that also means no getting naked in the daylight, so we’ll have to make do in our pants.”

  He wanted nothing more than to get Cara naked, and cautiously guarded that thought. The call for him to get to work would come any time now. Sun worshipers from the hotel and surrounding buildings would soon hit the beach, and his moment alone with Cara would be lost. Until then, they could relax their vigilance. Monsters didn’t roam when the sun came out.

  Cara was all his.

  The sand felt warm on his feet and already reflected the sunlight. Cara dug in with her bare toes as she turned toward the water. She removed her shirt and tossed it aside, but kept her pants on as she broke into a run.

  Rafe followed her, leaving a few feet of distance between them. When Cara reached the water, she didn’t hesitate to wade in. He caught the item she tossed to him as he followed her into the surf. It was her pants.

  Everything after that happened in slow motion.

  Cara turned around in waist-deep water. Across the lapping silvery foam, she gave him a wide-eyed stare.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Rafe said, his warning muted by the crash of the next wave. Damn it, he had misjudged the freedom he had just offered to her, and what Cara would do with it. He had believed she was on the same page.

  The back of his neck prickled as he waded in after her. But it was too late. In a repeat of the night before, and in spite of events that had taken place between then and now, Cara was suddenly gone. She just vanished.

  Knowing that it was futile to go after her, he nevertheless had to try. Rafe moved into deeper water and swam in a direction parallel to the shore. Strong strokes took him halfway up the beach, where there was no sign of the female he had promised to protect.

  He had let her go, and there would be consequences, though the worst of it was the way he felt. “Cara...” he messaged to her. “Don’t do this.”

  The only response he got was the steady drumming of the waves and the irregular beat of his heart.

  * * *

  He couldn’t wait all day for the runaway to show up. An hour had passed since he had lost Cara, and he needed to retrieve his cell phone and get down to other business. He’d have to also confess to his family about having lost her in broad daylight. And really, where would a naked woman go? How far would she get?

  Rafe walked back to his apartment, dropped Cara’s clothes beside his on the floor in the bathroom and stepped into the shower, not sure what was worse...thinking about Cara out there, or in here—as a runaway, or as his lover. He tried not to imagine her sleek body turning to him, and the way he might have pressed her to the cool, wet tiles as he readied for the move he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind since meeting her.

  He could almost see the water dripping down her face, and the look in her eyes that told him she wanted the same thing. He could feel his hands on her, his mouth on her, his hardness entering her softness. It all felt so real, and so right, he wondered if this was a premonition of things to come or merely more wishful thinking, and if those two things had become inexplicably intertwined. The images and sensations were so vivid, so potent and realistic, he cut the damn shower short so he could again breathe properly and regain perspective.

  Hell, this imprinting business was a bitch.

  Soon he was fully dressed, armed with his gun and his badge and ready to roll. He left his front door unlocked in case Cara returned and headed for the street, wishing that his only problem in the next half hour was the ribbing he’d get from other cops if they saw him driving his father’s luxury car.

  It turned out he didn’t have to worry about that. Cameron had beaten him there and was leaning casually against the silver sedan at the curb.

  “Thought you might need some help,” the Were said, adding with a wry grin, “with the car.”

  Chapter 21

  The Were who had captured a piece of her heart in so short a time didn’t return to his apartment before the sun went down. Cara’s boundless need for freedom, even from her new feelings for Rafe, continued to resonate in every cell in her body.

  At sunset, most of the humans on the beach had dispersed. Despite the few people still around, Cara finally left the water, figuring the others who saw her were so skimpily clad themselves, they might simply let it go. And there was no evidence of vampires flooding the area. The salt water would have covered her tracks if there had been a fanged scout or two.

  Rafe had left the door unlocked. Her open bag was on the table where she had left it that morning. Damp clothes, Rafe’s and hers, had been hung up on a rack to dry.

  She had trouble in the shower that not only smelled like Rafe, but reflected happier things related to his life. His thoughts seemed to linger there. Those thoughts made her blush.

  Dressed in dry clothes, Cara walked from room to room studying the details. Rafe was neat. Several framed photos of his family lined one hallway. There was a television set and a radio in the bedroom. She ran a hand over the mattress, feeling for hints of Rafe, though no one had slept in that bed last night.

  She didn’t have any family photos at home, or a refrigerator filled with things to eat. Although comfortable and snug, the Kirk-Killion cottage served up more basic fare. She hadn’t felt any lack of comfort while growing up, or the necessity for company other than her mother’s and father’s until the dreams had started. Dreams that turned out to be of Rafe, and a life like his.

  When a knock broke the silence, Cara whirled to face the door. Rafe had returned. He had known she would be here. Would he be angry? Upset about that morning?

  “Are you decent?” he called out. And Cara let go of the breath she had been holding.

  Rafe’s familiar scent preceded him into the room like a separate being. Contrary to her misgivings about seeing him after her disappearance, Cara felt relief. She was sorry she had given him the slip. Rafe had become her mooring, her stabilizing rock in a new world, and he had been confident about her return.

  Their gazes connected. Through that meeting of their eyes, their thoughts and hopes melded together. Rafe’s expression showed his hunger and his need for more than just speaking to her, but he said, “Are you ready?” without acting on those needs or chastising her for the earlier defection.

  “Yes,” she replied, gleaning a picture of where Rafe wanted to take her—the place that took precedence over their desires and what they both would rather have done.

  Their wants were to be put on hold.

  They were going back to the park.

  She was to help him find a killer.

  * * *

  There were working streetlights surrounding the park on three sides, but not to the east, where gangs occasionally used the globes for target practice. The east side was where he took Cara.

  Rafe parked his older SUV next to two unmanned police cruisers and Cameron’s showy beige sports car. “Cops are in the west and Weres are everywhere else,” he said to her. “The body we found near the wall has been taken to the morgue and the investigation is well underway.”

  Cara’s eyes were clear and focused, he thought. A good sign. Still, he would have preferred to have been with her anywhere but here.

  “There haven’t been any other deaths today, such as the one that dark spirit predicted. Not yet, anyway. So now,” he said, leaning back in the seat, “tell me about that gunshot. The one that came too close to you for comfo
rt.”

  Cara replied quickly. “One shot.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. “Only one.”

  “Pistol or rifle?”

  “He wasn’t close.”

  “Rifle then, maybe. It came from which direction?”

  After scanning the park through the windshield, Cara said, “Where it was the darkest.”

  “Figures. Can you show me where you were? Do you think you can find that place again?”

  “Didn’t the big Were named Jonas tell you?”

  “Jonas has been inconsiderately MIA today, so it’s up to you, if you have anything to show me that can help with this investigation.”

  “You believe that whoever fired a shot at me could have had something to do with the death of the human?”

  “I don’t believe that. We have to start somewhere, however, and you encountered trouble near the same time that body was being mutilated. I wanted to take another look around without the rest of my police team here, since I’d have a hard time explaining about you or keeping you from getting mixed up in the investigation.”

  “Won’t we be interfering?”

  “That depends on how it turns out. If a Were had anything to do with that human’s murder, it’s our job to find him. If it was something else, well, we wouldn’t want to cause a panic about that, would we?”

  Cara and Rafe got out of the car and he rested a hand on the warm metal hood. In any other situation, he would have hurdled the car to get at her.

  She looked at him soberly. “I didn’t tell you everything.”

  “Yeah, I figured as much,” Rafe said. “Better late than never is how the saying goes, so any light you can shed would help. Would you like to tell me what it is that you didn’t mention?”

  Rafe rounded the car slowly, careful to give Cara time to respond to his question.

  “I’m sorry about today,” she said.

  All he could think to say was “Okay.”

  Her eyes narrowed on the park. “I don’t think that bullet was meant for me, as you all supposed. I don’t think it was a wolf hunter out there.”

  “Why do you think that?” Rafe asked.

  “The bullet carried a strange scent.”

  Rafe drew in a breath, anticipating that Cara would mention silver. He carried silver rounds in a hidden pocket on his belt because a bad werewolf was a danger to everyone, not just to humans.

  “Can you describe the smell?” he asked.

  “The bullet smelled like fire.”

  All right. He had not expected that.

  “A wolf hunter would have used silver,” he pointed out.

  She nodded. “No hunter.”

  Rafe had to process what she had said. If Cara was right about the shooter not hunting Weres, what could the imbecile have been after, and with a bullet that Cara said smelled like fire? Cara, who was a kind of monster hunter herself, would be able to tell what kind of bullet had come anywhere near her.

  Needing more thinking room, Rafe absently tugged at the collar of his shirt. It was important for them to find that bullet. Imperative, actually.

  With a little luck, maybe they’d locate a casing on the ground or the damn bullet embedded in the trunk of a tree. It might not help to explain how the murder victim got a severed spine, but there was a chance that bullet could provide some kind of a clue that could give this investigation a kick in the right direction.

  “Can you show me where it happened?” he asked Cara.

  Cara gestured for him to follow her.

  After the events of last night, walking in the dark, with Cara a few steps in front of him, kept Rafe on edge. Cara could drop to all fours at any moment and race away in the opposite direction if she had a mind to. He now knew that her MO was to run away from her feelings for him.

  He could still hear the howl she’d made last night. The shock had stayed with him.

  The park wasn’t quiet tonight, either. Though the perimeter was blocked off by cops on foot and in squad cars, there was still plenty of noise. Muted music came from the boulevard. Sirens wailed in the distance and car horns honked. Those sounds dimmed as he and Cara strode deeper into the darkness with their inner radar humming.

  His companion walked with an outward show of confidence he didn’t feel. Cara exhibited no sign of having concerns about who or what might jump out of the shadows. After his close call with bloodsucking Brandi, he preferred to place his trust in Cara’s expertise in the realm of the supernatural.

  “Not far now,” she said, as if she could have arrived at the spot they were looking for with her eyes shut.

  They had to find something soon or turn back. They were nearing the southeastern portion of the grounds where crimes occurred on a weekly basis. The pack had taken to patrolling the area in nightly sweeps and would likely have been here soon after sundown, along with the cops. It wasn’t much past that time now, but Rafe recognized the smell of trouble.

  They were going to have company.

  Any packmate out for a prolonged stroll would at least know about Cara’s visit, so bumping into one would merely be an inconvenience. It was everyone else Rafe had to worry about. Humans pretty much all smelled alike, which made telling the difference between good guys and bad guys a toss-up until their behavior came to light. Bad guys tended to carry guns and knives, but the kind of trouble Rafe sensed smelled like...death.

  They moved in silence over dry, trampled grass and beneath trees that didn’t yet cast shadows. Overhead, the moon was partially covered by clouds. In five days Weres would come out from behind walls and shadows to howl at that moon. A park full of Miami’s werewolves was probably the safest place around if anyone dared to come here to cause problems.

  His attention had slipped. Ahead of him, Cara stopped suddenly and stood very still, driving Rafe’s nerves to a state of red alert. His right hand went to his weapon and hovered there. He heard Cara whisper, “Company,” as he got a whiff of what that company might be.

  Cara placed a hand on his to keep him from drawing his gun and shook her head adamantly. She said the words no one wanted to hear in such a precariously dangerous situation.

  “Won’t do any good against this guy.”

  * * *

  This wasn’t a memory. What was happening was real because Rafe, beside her, had also picked up on the smell. He also noticed the way she had to speak around the sharp tips of her fangs, and warily glanced away.

  “Damn it. Another one?” he asked.

  The only questions she had now were how soon that bloodsucker would take to get to here and which one of them would tangle with it first.

  Rafe was keyed up in a way that made her nerves dance. He was probably angry the search for the bullet had been interrupted and plagued by the reminder of how he’d been fooled by the ancient parasite he’d invited into his apartment yesterday.

  He took a step and Cara matched it.

  “Which one of us do you suppose looks like dinner?” he asked cynically.

  “This is highly unusual,” Cara explained. “Normally, vamps don’t come after wolves unless there is no one else around.”

  “Either their tastes have evolved, or we’re just lucky.” Rafe glanced at her again. “If they don’t usually like wolves, why would they bother to come around here, where there are so many of us? And why did they attack your father here, in this same park?”

  “I think they attacked my father to rid the city of one of the oldest werewolf lines. They knew about the Lycans who could do them some major damage. Every wolf they took down would mean more freedom to prey upon Miami’s population.”

  “Well, that plan didn’t turn out so well, did it? Maybe this sucker won’t overstep its bounds.”

  Cara wanted to tell Rafe that vampires had no bounds, but just then a tall skeletal form cloaked in black sli
d into the shadows between two trees...and her fangs began to throb.

  Chapter 22

  Rafe tried not to show the disgust he felt as he faced this animated corpse. The creature was painful to look at and hadn’t bothered to hide its true semblance. Or so Rafe surmised, because nothing could have been worse than this guy.

  Unlike the high-gloss version of the undead that Brandi had presented him with, this bloodsucker looked and smelled like it had recently crawled up from a grave. It had a white face and gray hair. Red-rimmed eyes glowered at him from a sunken face that was not much more than a conglomeration of exposed bone. There was barely enough flesh on its lips to hide the bloodsucker’s long, pointed fangs. The way it stared was unnerving.

  Cara, on the other hand, didn’t seem surprised by the awful appearance of this gaunt apparition. Her vibe was calm as she waited for their visitor to make a move. For her, this was a regular occurrence.

  Rafe broke the silence by muttering, “Where’s a carved wooden stake when we need one?”

  The vampire—a male, Rafe thought, but couldn’t be sure—emitted a hissing noise through its fangs that was reminiscent of steam escaping from a vent. Rafe got the feeling the vamp was angry, and yet its face didn’t reflect that. The creature didn’t move. This guy was probably sizing them up and wondering if it could manage a twofer. Or maybe this ugly bastard hadn’t expected to find two Weres in the park tonight and was therefore reassessing its options...as if it had any.

  “Wait,” Cara softly cautioned Rafe.

  “Which of us is the target?” Rafe asked, ready to tear this creature apart with his bare hands if it showed any intention of going after Cara. Those bones looked brittle enough to snap without much force.