PrimalFlavor

by Danica Avet

  Nodding and testing the air again, Zach tried not to growl when he caught that elusive shifter scent that had been with the wolf’s since he caught it at Colette’s house. “Yeah. I don’t know why they didn’t try to cover their tracks, but this is definitely where they went.” He lifted his head, catching a scent in the wind that made his hackles rise and his tiger growl. “I smell a lot of shifters and blood. Lots of blood.”

  Willis caught his arm in a tight grip, his fear a sharp, acrid smell. “Colette’s blood?” he rasped.

  Sniffing the air again, Zach shook his head. “No, it belongs to the shifters who were with the wolf.”

  “Maybe they’ll kill each other off before we get there,” someone in the small crowd muttered, an agreement rippling through the group of fifteen.

  “Willis, you know where we are?” one of the older men in the group whispered.

  Zach looked over to see it was Colette’s Uncle Tudu and his face was pasty white with fear. “Where are we?” he demanded.

  Willis scratched at his cheek. “This is Senator Duet’s land, right across the Pointe-Aux-Chat Parish line.”

  That made the other men in the group, especially Colette’s cousins, freeze in place. “What?”

  Cotton and Beau exchanged a dark look before turning to Zach with eyes similar to his mate’s. “Once a month, we’d hear screams from this direction, but we could never find it,” Cotton told him, a grim understanding in his voice. “It’s been going on for years, but no one’s ever found out where they start.”

  Beau picked up where his brother left off. “We even tried to tell the sheriff over in Caillou Parish about it, but he said he never heard or found anything.” He shrugged. “We tried to find it a few times, but never had any luck.”

  Zach felt the blood drain from his face as he listened to the brothers, his mind recalling what he’d overheard at the sheriff’s office. “There have been disappearances,” he muttered, silencing all the men. “Several in Orleans and Jefferson Parish, but always around the full moon.” He met their gazes with dread coiling in his stomach. “And the women were all human.”

  Willis’ face turned stark white as he put two and two together. “You think they’ve been bringing girls out here? On the senator’s land?”

  He was about to say he knew it when a cacophony of howls, roars and yips split the night air. Zach froze. Every animal, shifter or natural recognized those sounds as a call to hunt. It reached deep to the most primitive instincts and demanded a response, but when he caught the scent of his mate floating on the breeze, Zach knew exactly what those shifters were planning to hunt.

  “Holy fuck,” he whispered and started running. “They’re gonna hunt her.”

  Between one step and the next, Zach shifted, his tiger springing from his skin and shredding his clothes. He didn’t even pause to reassure her family that he would do what he could. He didn’t have to because he heard them behind him. But his entire focus was on the woman who needed him ahead.

  “Willis,” Frog warned as they saw the tiger disappear between the trees.

  “Split up,” he ordered his sons, brothers, nephews and cousins. “Frog, you take Cotton and three more to the east. Tudu, you get Beau and another three and take the west. Alcide, Dan, y’all are with me. We’re following the tiger.”

  “Are we gonna wait for the sheriff to get here?” Tudu asked even as he began walking away.

  Willis met their gazes, doing his best not to show them how terrified he was. That noise, the roars and howls, had made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. His daughter, his baby girl was out there with those shifters who planned to hunt her like a wild animal.

  “Shoot first, ask questions later.”

  One by one, his kinsmen disappeared into the brush, years of hunting in these swamps helping them to fade into the darkness. With a sharp glance at his sons who appeared ready to do what they had to in order to get their sister back, Willis followed the tiger’s trail. And he prayed.

  He prayed as he’d never done before. And when he heard the first shot, he started running.

  * * * * *

  Colette cringed as her cage, now empty of the Schumacher brothers, was towed out of the warehouse and left in the center of a group of no less than twenty people. No, not people, she corrected herself as she met wild gazes. They were all shifters. They wore masks to hide their faces and robes to hide their nakedness, but the eyes glinting at her with cold hunter didn’t belong to full humans.

  And they all stared down at her for a moment before lifting their rabid gazes to the man who stood on the back of a truck. Colette couldn’t see his face, but the instant he began to speak, she knew it was Senator Duet.

  “Brothers and sisters, welcome to another full moon hunt,” he called out. “Tonight we celebrate what it is to be a shifter, to give worship to the powers that make us gods among men. Tonight, we hunt!”

  “We hunt!” the crowd shouted back.

  Colette recoiled at the sound, frissons pebbling her skin as the air seemed to charge with anticipation. They were fanatics. All of them.

  “Normally we would reward the shifter who brings us a new sacrifice, but unfortunately, the jackals we’d hoped to bring into Fang and Claw revealed themselves to be weak and perverted, wishing to soil themselves with prey,” he spat, pointing to Colette. Several people in the crowd murmured, disgust plain in their voices. “Our forefathers knew the day would come when primitive beasts would attempt to rise above shifters. They created Fang and Claw for this very day, my friends. They knew the time would come when we’d have to cull the weak from the herd, those who seek to defile their bodies and their bloodlines with the primitive apes who think they’re better than us.” He held up his hands to the frenzied group. “I executed them, those jackals who thought to debase themselves with this filth. May God have mercy on their souls, for we have none.

  “But tonight isn’t all about disappointment in our brethren, my friends. No, tonight brings us great joy as well for we’re welcoming a new member to our group,” Duet announced with a wave of his arm to his left. “Tonight, one of our hardest-working recruiters is joining us in the fight against the humans who seek to overstep their bounds.” The group applauded as a new figure joined the group. It was Roscoe who wasn’t wearing a mask, unless his expressionless face counted. His blue eyes scanned the crowd, pausing here and there before he looked at Colette. His gaze burned with silent, frigid fury. “This young man has been instrumental in recruiting some of our finest hunts and after months of hard work, he’s being rewarded with his very first hunt.”

  The crowd cheered, clapping wildly as Roscoe stepped up to Duet. “Leave the clothes of man behind,” the senator ordered. The warden stripped off his clothes until he stood naked in front of everyone. Someone handed Duet a robe, which was then passed to Roscoe. “Wear this skin as symbol of your power over the humans. For eons, they have hunted and skinned our natural brethren for clothing and so we return the favor.”

  Colette’s eyes widened, her stomach twisting and churning as she realized the robes each shifter wore were made of human skin. Her belief turned to solid proof when she saw the tattoos etched into the robe Roscoe allowed Duet to settle around his shoulders. She gagged, her stomach rebelling at the thought of these people skinning humans. Several of the members chuckled at her, her obvious weakness drawing them closer to her cage.

  “And now for your mask,” Duet murmured. “You belong with us, Coltrane Roscoe. Welcome to Fang and Claw.”

  Something about the warden’s name struck a chord in Colette’s mind, but she was too horrified by what she was witnessing to give it much attention. The mask the wildlife—no, FBI agent—was handed was made of human bones. She sensed it more than knew for certain. These weirdoes had no problem utilizing human skin, so why not use human bones as well? The sick bastards.

  Then Duet turned to the group with his hands raised. “Brother Roscoe,” he announced loudly.

  The crowd let o
ut noises that blended into a hellish nightmare of sound that bombarded Colette’s ears. Howls, roars, yips and snarls combined in a frightening musical that caused her primitive instincts to roil to the surface. It knew this was bad. No, this is bad, bad. Her eyes darted around, searching for a way out. The warehouse they’d held her in was not an option for escape. The area in front of it wasn’t much better, since there was a lot of open land.

  Then her gaze fell on a tree to her left. Moss draped the lower branches and some had fallen on the ground at the base of the trunk. Colette darted a look at Roscoe, who was accepting congratulations from the other members of the weird club. There’s a .40 caliber hidden in the moss next to the tree. His words echoed in her mind and her heart steadied. They were going to let her run. Wanted her to run. That was part of their game. But if Roscoe could be believed, he was going to even the odds. Him and his men.

  She searched the shadows as Duet took control of the group again. She didn’t see anything that resembled a person, but if Roscoe was to be believed, his people were here to catch these monsters. Colette didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him, yet the alternative was a gruesome death at the claws of this cult. He turned at that moment to look at her. His expression didn’t change from that flat, empty mask, but his eyes nearly begged her to believe in him.

  Duet stepped up once more and everyone scattered, as though afraid of him. Colette gave a subtle nod of her head to the wolf. She’d trust him on this. Run to the left. Get the gun from the moss.

  “And now what we’ve been waiting for,” Duet announced jovially. “Roscoe has brought us a live one tonight.” His hand swept out in an encompassing motion toward Colette. She froze at being the sudden center of attention. “Miz Colette Robicheaux here is a hunter. A real Annie Oakley, it seems. And she had the nerve to tempt one of our own to lower himself to her level.” He shook his head, his robes swaying at the movement. “I know, my friends, I know your pain. But this is why we’re here. This female, this disgustingly weak, human female thought she was as good, if not better, than us. She seeks to taint one of our very own with her weakness. And we’re here to stop her, to teach her that despite the technology humans arm themselves with, they’re nothing more than playthings of those who would walk as gods.”

  The crowd made that sound again, but this time it was edged with something hungry and dangerous. It was a call to hunt. Colette’s bones ached, her heart stuttered and threatened to explode when it began to beat again. She did her best to calm herself, tried to recall every lesson she’d learned at her daddy’s knee about hunting, how to handle herself, but that noise brought forth the inner primitive, the one who instinctively wanted to cower and hide.

  Colette beat that terrified woman back. She wasn’t a coward or a wimp. She was a Robicheaux. A Robicheaux who’d caught and held the attention of a tiger she loved with all her heart. A man she was positive loved her back. But even if he didn’t, the time she’d spent with him had been the best of her life. And if her life ended tonight at the claws and fangs of these monsters, so be it. But she was taking some of those sons of bitches with her.

  “Release the hunter!” Duet shouted and two people surged forward to grip the gate. The senator leaned down and whispered, “I look forward to the game, huntress.”

  And then the gate opened. Colette held back a moment, her heart threatening to choke her. Something sharp poked her back, sending pain lancing through her body. She charged out of the gate, her legs threatening to buckle from the crouched position she’d held for so long, but she ignored it, pushing herself. No one rushed after her, but she heard them, their growls and snarls of impatience telling her they were just waiting for her to get far enough away to chase.

  Holy shit, holy shit. God please, don’t let this be a trick. She prayed as she took a sharp turn to the left, heading straight for the massive oak tree and its bed of moss. Colette nearly tripped, but managed to keep her feet as she ran for the promised gun hidden at the base of the trunk. When she got there, she dropped to her knees, casting a quick look over her shoulder to see what the cult was doing as she frantically patted the moss, searching for the gun.

  They were staring, sounds of confusion rising in the air as they spoke. Duet and Roscoe were the only ones staring at her, their bodies tense. Then her hand closed around the butt of the gun and triumph filled her. Duet must have seen something in her face, maybe he smelled her fear begin to fade, because he shouted something to his people who surged forward, robes hitting the ground as they shifted.

  Lifting her hand out of the moss, Colette prayed the gun was loaded and fired the first shot.

  The woman disappeared into the woods, the leaves barely moving as she slipped away, running exactly as he’d told her to. The shifters were shocked by the shot fired at them. It struck a hyena that fell to the ground with a screech of pain. Several others ran to aid the male, except it wouldn’t do any good. Roscoe could smell his death. Colette was an excellent markswoman, but that wouldn’t help her with the other shifters on her tail. Which was why he’d prepared as best as he could for this moment.

  He waited for his team to show themselves, waited for the backup he’d requested a week before to step out of the shadows, but no one did. Duet turned to one of the shifters who’d come up beside him, a cougar by the smell of him. “The hunt begins,” he said in a lethally quiet voice that had every shifter freezing in place. “Kill her.”

  Roscoe wanted to howl, his wolf pawing at his mind, wanting out. That woman had trusted him to protect her. Maybe not as well as he would have liked, but she’d listened to him, found the gun he’d hidden for her and now she was running. Yet the backup he’d promised her was nowhere to be found. Which could only mean one thing.

  “Did you honestly think you could hide men here without me knowing?” Duet asked as he slowly removed his robe and handed it to one of his disciples. “Son, I’ve been doing this long before you were even a twinkle in your daddy’s eye. Did you really think we’d let someone in on a hunt this soon? The minute you started pressing for more, we knew we’d have to get rid of you at the same time we did our little huntress.” He turned away. “Horace, shoot him.”

  Turning, he found himself facing the barrel of a gun held by the sheriff of Caillou Parish. The shifter who was supposed to have been helping Roscoe and his team close the net around the mysterious group. “Motherfuck—”

  Pain exploded in his body and as he fell to the ground, Roscoe’s last sight was of Duet shifting to his tiger form. He turned around and used his back claws to rake dirt over Roscoe’s body the way a domestic cat would cover its waste in a litter box. With a chuff at the sheriff, Duet slipped between some bushes, following the human who’d foolishly put her life in Roscoe’s hands.

  * * * * *

  Zach slowed, crouching low to the ground as he crawled forward. Several more shots had followed the first, but they’d been spaced apart. And each time there was a gunshot, he heard a scream of pain. It made his heart leap to his throat. Colette was out there. He told himself she was fine. Fate wouldn’t have let him get this close to her and then let something happen to her. Besides, he tried to reason, his mate knew how to take care of herself. She was kicking ass and taking names. He hoped.

  Then his sharp hearing picked up the sound of someone running. They were being stealthy and quiet, but not enough to avoid detection. Then he caught the muted scent of his mate, a smell so faint he almost didn’t catch it until he saw her dart behind a tree.

  Zach sprang after her, desperation and hope making him foolish. She whirled around, a gun in hand, violet eyes narrowed on him. It was so reminiscent of the way he’d first seen her, Zach didn’t even realize she was about to shoot him until she suddenly relaxed, the gun dropping to point at the ground.

  “Zach?” she whispered in a shaky voice that spoke volumes.

  He shifted to his human form, arms reaching out to catch her as she fell. “Are you hurt?” he demanded even as his hands roamed her
naked skin looking for injuries. She was filthy and covered in blood, but it didn’t smell like hers. “Baby, God, are you okay?”

  “They’re coming,” she whispered, pulling away from him to look into his face. “They’re coming after me.”

  She was covered in mud. If he hadn’t recognized her eyes and her scent, he wouldn’t have known it was her. “How many?”

  “I don’t know.” She reached up to rub her face. “I shot five. Maybe fifteen? Twenty? I didn’t get to stop and count how many there were at the warehouse. Roscoe said his people were out here, but no one stepped up to help.” She looked around. “You didn’t come alone, did you? God, what are we gonna do?”

  “Shh,” he ordered, pulling her tight against him, the closeness soothing his tiger some. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. We have a date to make up for.”

  Her arm looped around his waist, the butt of the gun digging into the small of his back, but he wasn’t worried. His mate hugged him tight, her shaking subsiding after a few heartbeats. “I love you,” he blurted with a hard squeeze of her petite body. “Woman I love you so fucking much and I didn’t think I’d get to tell you.”

  She looked up at him, eyes wide in her mud-stained face. “I love you too,” she said and kissed his chin. “But your timing sucks.”

  He nodded, his heart eased by her small joke. “We’re getting out of here right now,” he said and picked her up. But when he turned to carry her out of there, a man stepped out from behind a tree, a smirk on his handsome face. Zach blinked, frozen in place by sheer shock. “Senator Duet?”

  Several more shifters stepped forward, the mud streaking their bodies proving they’d been the ones after his mate. And several of them wore faces he recognized from his business. Sheriff Horace Billiot, Father Becnel from St. Peter’s Catholic Church in Germantown, Carol Voisin, the principal of Petite Caillou High School and several more Zach had seen over the years of catering in the tri-parish area. They were all shifters in power whether it was large or small. They were trusted officials giving power over humans and shifters in their territories and they were monsters.