Filthy Wolf

by Liza Street

  Along with the footsteps came breathy gasps. That didn’t sound like Jase or Ronan. He put down the flask and stood up straight. What was going on?

  “Jase?” he said.

  The trees were thick to the south side of the lake, so Marcus couldn’t see. He walked over, senses on alert. Once in the darkness of the trees, his eyes adjusted and he peered between trunks.

  There. Someone running near the outside of the boundary.

  A woman.

  Shit, if this was one of those crazy Junkyard groupies, he had about five seconds to catch her before she stepped over the gravel line and into the Junkyard.

  “Hey, cut it out!” he called.

  The figure stopped, stumbled. The hiking pack strapped to her shoulders probably upset her balance, and she fell. Picking herself up again, she looked over her shoulder. Her long, dark hair whipped around as she tried to figure out which way to go.

  Away, Marcus thought, running forward. Go away.

  And then he realized—she was already on his side of the gravel line. She’d fallen because she’d rammed right into the invisible wall.

  And there was an enraged black bear—not a shifter, but a regular bear—standing a few yards away from her.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “Hold on,” Marcus said. “Wait right there, okay? I’m coming to you.”

  She gasped and started running—right toward Marcus.

  He reached out and caught her with his left hand, then wrapped his right arm around her so she didn’t fall again. Her clothes were soaked through, just like his own. She pulled in giant, heaving gasps.

  “A…an animal,” she said. “I think it hurt my friend. Oh no, I can’t believe this…”

  The bear ambled over. It stared hard at Marcus, who stared back. He didn’t want to fight a normal bear. He didn’t want to fight anyone, to be honest. Marcus glared harder, and the bear turned away and ambled off, over the boundary line and into the wilderness beyond the Junkyard.

  One crisis averted.

  He turned his attention back to the woman in his arms. She smelled like alcohol, although Marcus was pretty sure he didn’t smell much better after guzzling Ephraimson’s moonshine. He looked desperately around. If there was ever a good time for Jase to show up on that run, now would be it. Marcus could pawn this groupie off on Jase and…

  He sniffed again.

  She wasn’t a Junkyard groupie. She was human.

  Quadruple fuck. He tried to let go of her, but she’d latched onto his arm.

  “Look, I can’t help you,” he said.

  “Please—my friend, you don’t understand—there was an animal.”

  He understood better than she did. “Let me get you somewhere safe, and then I can look for your friend.”

  “I should help you, we can look together.”

  “Um, no. That’s not going to work. Do you think you’re going to find anything out here in the dark?”

  “No.” She lifted her gaze to his and looked into his face for the first time. Her chocolate brown eyes nearly took his breath away. “You swear you’ll come back out for her?”

  “I swear.”

  He owed this woman nothing, and yet he knew he’d be out here as soon as he got her settled somewhere safe. Not his cabin—it was too much in the middle of things, and someone would eventually notice her scent.

  Remembering the old trailer at the north of the Junkyard, he nodded to himself. That was the best place for her. It was out of the way. Marcus, Lena, and Kyle had all stayed there when they first came to the Junkyard, and it would be the perfect spot to hide this woman away. Grant and Caitlyn could help keep an eye on her until they figured out how to get her out of here.

  “Come with me,” he said. “Do you want me to carry your pack?”

  “No, I’m fine.” She held fast to his arm, making it harder to walk than it needed to be.

  “You’re going to have to let me go,” Marcus said.

  “Can I hold your hand, then?” she asked.

  His heart clenched, and suddenly he’d like nothing more than to hold her hand. Weird, because he didn’t even know her, yet her fear must have activated his protective instincts or something.

  “Sorry,” she said after a moment, “I know it sounds so stupid when I say it out loud—”

  “You can hold my hand, but not on that side. The hand’s gone.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  He guided her to his left side and gripped her hand. “Let’s go—there’s a trailer where you can stay, and it should be safe enough.”

  “Where are we?” she asked. “A campground?”

  “Something like that.”

  He’d have to explain it to her, but now wasn’t the time. Not when she was at least a little drunk and he was too, and she was worried about her friend. And any moment, another shifter could show up and discover her.

  As they walked, fat raindrops dripped on their heads through the pine branches above.

  “So where are we?” she asked.

  “We need to be quiet,” he said. “We don’t want to attract the animals.”

  She gasped and whispered, “Animals? Plural?”

  “Yeah.”

  It took longer than it normally would to reach the trailer. She tripped frequently, although she never fell. The muddy ground wasn’t helping. Plus he knew from his half-sister that humans had much worse night vision than shifters did. When Marianne was little, she used to test his abilities, asking him to turn off all the lights when he put her to bed. Then she’d throw random objects through her dark room to see if he could catch them.

  Marianne had grown up thinking that having Marcus for a brother was the same as having a big fluffy dog.

  It was his life’s mission to make sure she never saw him as the monster he truly was.

  “What’s your name?” the woman holding his hand asked. “I should tell you…I don’t go home with men I don’t know.”

  “You’re not going home with me,” Marcus said. “This place will be yours. But my name’s Marcus.”

  “Jessica,” she said.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” But it would’ve been a fuck-ton nicer under different circumstances.

  They reached the trailer and Marcus steered her around to the front, which faced not the Junkyard, but the boundary line. Rain pattered loudly against the trailer’s metal roof.

  “I love the sound of rain,” Jessica mumbled.

  He opened the door for her and peeked inside to make sure all was as he’d left it when he moved out. A strong whiff of Lena’s and Kyle’s scents filled his nose, and he grieved all over again for Kyle’s death and Lena leaving the Junkyard.

  “There are blankets in there,” he said to Jessica, “so you can get tucked in. Do not come out, okay? It’s dangerous out here for you. So just wait until I come back.”

  “You’re really going to find my friend?” she asked, hesitating in the doorway.

  “I’m going to try. What’s her name?”

  “Blythe.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Thanks.”

  She went inside and he shut the door behind her. If he could bar the door, even better. He didn’t know why, but he was personally invested in keeping her safe.

  He also wanted to talk to her, learn more about her life. But there was no time. He turned around and ran back to the place where he’d found her. If Blythe was nearby, he needed to get to her as quickly as possible. Better Marcus finding them both than the other shifters. Not everyone in the Junkyard was a total asshole, but he’d heard stories about some of those other guys, and he’d seen what some of them were capable of.

  When he reached the lake, he kept going past the fish he’d abandoned and toward the boundary line that curved against the shore. The boundary extended out into the water. Marcus knew he wasn’t the only miserable sonuvabitch who’d tried swimming out there and getting past the boundary. But even in the water, the invisible wall remained.
>
  Fucking witches, they thought of everything.

  At least the territory had water, he supposed, and sometimes decent fishing.

  The rain had washed away most of the scents of Jessica and anyone else who might’ve come into the territory with her. He went all the way to the gravel line and sniffed carefully, even getting on his hand and knees. Irritated when he couldn’t smell anything, he took off his clothes and shifted into his wolf. His gait was different, now that he had lost his right forepaw, but he got along well enough.

  Jessica’s scent was flowery and sweet like freesia. He picked it up, faint over the gravel and the ground nearby. A second, even fainter scent, touched his nose. Also sweet, but fruity instead of flowery.

  He followed the second scent for a few yards, until he realized where it was headed. It was going straight into the dump—the part of the Junkyard where assholes like Barnum and Alleman lived.

  And her scent was mixed with a shifter’s. Alleman’s, if he wasn’t mistaken.

  Fuck. He needed to get back to Jessica. But he couldn’t leave this other woman behind, especially not if Alleman had her. Following the fruity scent, he made his way toward the dump.

  He kept his head low to the ground, his paws soft against the rain-soaked earth. He hadn’t gone far before he saw the very thing he’d feared—Alleman holding a struggling form, his hand pressed over her mouth to keep her quiet.

  Marcus held in the growl of outrage building in his chest. He launched himself forward, intent on Alleman’s legs. If Marcus knocked Alleman over, he could hold him by the throat and give Blythe a chance to run…but run where? He’d worry about that later, once she was free.

  Now he was three yards away from Alleman, who still hadn’t noticed him approaching. Two yards away. One.

  Bam. Something slammed into Marcus’s side. He hadn’t smelled the leopard shifter in the rain, but Barnum, in his cat form, had already wrapped his sinewy body around Marcus and was kicking hard, raking Marcus’s side with his powerful hind legs.

  Blindly, Marcus bit down on the closest thing he could reach, which turned out to be Barnum’s foreleg. Barnum snarled and hissed, then pulled back.

  Before Marcus could recover, Barnum swatted his face with a giant paw, claws running over his skin. Marcus felt his eye immediately swell closed.

  Shit, this was going downhill fast. He scrambled back to assess the situation and figure out where Alleman was taking Blythe. Barnum gave him no view, immediately jumping at him again.

  Marcus’s side ached, his face ached, and he could only see out of one eye. Still, he dodged Barnum’s attack.

  Barnum attacked again, this time from Marcus’s left, where he had limited visibility. Marcus jerked away.

  He wasn’t fast enough—Barnum got him by the throat.

  Resisting at this point was futile, unless Marcus wanted his throat ripped out. Barnum’s dominance was established. Fuck. When Marcus didn’t immediately signify yielding by relaxing his muscles, Barnum growled.

  Letting loose a growl of his own, Marcus relaxed.

  Barnum let go of his neck.

  Alleman still held the struggling woman. He looked bored. “Better luck next time, One-hand.”

  Several more guys came out of the shadows. Marcus shifted back to human, wincing at the pain radiating through his face.

  “Fuck, now everyone saw her,” Alleman said.

  “What’s with the chick?” someone asked.

  The woman in question had red hair made darker by the rain. Her eyes blazed not with fear, but with fury. It was a good thing Alleman had such a good grip on her, because in a fight between the two of them, Marcus wasn’t sure Alleman would come out standing. Blythe looked pissed enough to best him if only she could get free.

  Alleman seemed to be thinking. “I haven’t decided what to do with her yet. I don’t want to be out in this fuckin’ rain anymore.”

  “And meanwhile, who gets her?” the guy asked.

  “Finders keepers?” Alleman suggested.

  “No one gets her.” It was Jase who spoke up as he leaned against an old upright piano. “Only seems fair, right? Until we can decide what to do with her?”

  There were enough murmurs of support that Alleman’s shoulders fell in defeat.

  “I’ll put her somewhere safe,” Alleman grumbled.

  At least Alleman and Barnum wouldn’t be able to hurt her now. If nothing else, Marcus’s interference meant that every shifter in the Junkyard now knew about Blythe’s presence.

  The other shifters followed Alleman as he carried Blythe farther into the dump.

  Jase came over to Marcus and held out a hand to help him up.

  Marcus took it and muttered, “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  When Jase just stood there facing him, Marcus said, “Watch out for her. Make sure they put her somewhere safe.”

  “Good call.”

  His face hurt like hell. His ribs, too; Barnum had cracked one.

  He limped back the way he’d come until he reached his clothes. They were soaked through, so he picked them up and went back to his cabin. There, he pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a dry thermal. The rain had slowed, but hadn’t stopped all the way. The dry interior of his cabin was tempting.

  But he pushed his way outside, leaving the comfort of his cabin behind. He had to get back to Jessica, make sure she was safe and not wandering around on this cold, drizzly night.

  5

  Jessica woke up warm and dry, grateful that last night’s misadventure had been a dream and she was safe in her writing cabin.

  Any minute, the camp’s bells would start chiming to rouse everyone for breakfast.

  She waited, keeping her eyes closed for a few more blissful moments before she’d have to see Chaole. She stretched and turned over…and knocked into someone else.

  Her eyes snapped open. A broad back faced her, a faded gray long-sleeved thermal shirt stretched across it. The neck attached to the back led up to a head of shaggy brown hair.

  This wasn’t anyone from her writing intensive.

  And this wasn’t her cabin.

  Scrambling away from the stranger in this strange bed, she tried to take the blanket with her. Unfortunately, the guy was sleeping on top of the blanket. The fabric wouldn’t move. She draped it over her lap as she took stock of her body. Clothes were on, everything except for her shoes. She sat up on her knees to peer over the giant blocking her from the rest of this…trailer.

  That’s right. She was in a camp trailer. She remembered, now. A man had helped her—this man. He’d made her feel safe and he’d promised to find Blythe.

  But there was no Blythe in sight.

  “Hey,” she said, shoving her palm against his back.

  He rumbled something in that deep, gruff voice he had, a voice that was almost a growl. Despite the circumstances, she found herself really liking his voice. It made her want to pay attention to every word he said.

  “Hey, wake up.” She shoved him again. “Where’s Blythe?”

  He turned around to face her and she gasped. One entire side of his face was bruised and covered in healing cuts. More bruises surrounded one of his eyes, which was swollen. Had his face been like this last night? She couldn’t remember. It had been difficult to see in the dark, anyway.

  “What happened to your face?” she asked.

  He sat up. “Nothing.”

  “It’s something, obviously,” she said, coming around to his side to get a better view.

  He turned his face away again.

  “Dammit, Mike,” she said.

  “I’m not Mike.”

  “Your name starts with an M, I can remember that much, Melvin.”

  He shook his head.

  “Malik. Matthew. Mason. Whatever. Where is my friend?”

  “She’s alive,” he said finally, staring at the opposite side of the trailer. “I couldn’t get to her, though.”

  “Do we need to call Search and Rescue? Why have
we not already done this? Why didn’t you wake me up when you got back?”

  He laughed.

  “Okay, asshole,” she said, pushing on his shoulder and trying to climb off the weird trailer bed. She’d take care of things herself. She just hoped Blythe was okay.

  He took up the entire area where she should be able to get out of bed, and he wasn’t budging.

  “Move it,” she said.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Sure, Mateo. Let me out of here and we can talk while we call emergency services and help Blythe.”

  She tried to scramble around his torso, but he held up his arm and blocked her. His arm was strong and muscled, but his hand was gone. She remembered him mentioning that last night.

  Growling in irritation, she said, “Why the hell won’t you let me out of here?”

  “Because you can’t get out,” he said simply. “No one can.”

  She shook her head. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

  “Look,” he said, twisting sideways to face her once more, “it’s complicated. Do you believe in magic?”

  Folding her arms across her chest, she glared at him. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  “Fuck.” He looked to the ceiling, as if searching for patience. She hoped he found extra, because she could use some, too. “Okay, here’s the thing. There’s a boundary that we can’t get over. It’s like an invisible wall. It keeps people in this area.”

  “Riiiiight,” she said slowly. “Okay, well, my dad always tells me that obstacles are ninety percent mental, so while you believe you’re trapped in this trailer, I know for a fact I can walk out of here as soon as I—climb—around—you—mountain-muscle-man.”

  Every time she tried to squeeze past him, he blocked her. What a super jerk. She should have been frightened, but he didn’t make her feel afraid. She felt safe. Just confused and annoyed. She needed to find Blythe. Why wasn’t he letting her?

  “I have to get my friend,” she said. “Let me out of here.”

  His voice was calm, despite her growing impatience. “I’ll let you out in just a second. First you need to understand what’s going on here. And I will personally help you get your friend, but no rescue operation is going to do any good because of the underlying problem of this territory.”