Bayou Wolf

by Debbie Herbert

  Matt raised a brow. “Are you questioning the wisdom of my idea?”

  She flushed and pursed her lips, unwilling to argue with the alpha, even if it was her brother.

  “So the question remains. Which of us is infected?” Matt continued.

  No one spoke.

  “Has anyone observed another pack member breaking the rules by leaving the house alone?”

  Still no answer.

  “Okay. Has anyone observed any suspicious behavior or witnessed another member exhibiting symptoms of excessive sweating or shaking?”

  Still no answer.

  “There must be something,” he urged.

  “Maybe we should be looking at Payton,” Eli suggested. “After all, look at what his father did. Murdered another man, a fellow pack member.”

  Payton jumped to his feet, anger scalding every nerve in his body. “Leave my father out of this discussion. It has nothing to do with me or this situation.”

  “You have the same quick temper.” James, an elder and generally regarded as Matt’s beta, studied him.

  “Same could be said for at least half of us,” Payton pointed out, struggling to keep his voice controlled.

  Jillian came to his side and clutched his arm.

  “No way it’s Payton,” she insisted.

  His neck heated with embarrassment at her unwanted defense. Her outburst made them appear like a couple, a team, intimates. He sat back down on the couch and tugged the sleeve of her T-shirt to have Jillian do the same.

  “Let’s all keep our eyes and ears open,” Matt said. “Report to me at once if you observe anything suspicious. As far as the guilty one...” He again scrutinized them each individually. “Meet with me in private. Today. Before any further damage can be done. I promise, I’ll see that you get treatment. I will personally drive you to the compound in Montana for reconditioning.”

  As if the person suffering from the L-fever could be reasoned with. The fever slowly destroyed their humanity until the blood lust for humans consumed them day and night.

  “Should we consider moving again?” Lincoln asked quietly. The much picked-on omega of the pack apparently wanted to retreat, his usual response to danger. “At least out west there are more of our kind and the killer might be caught by another pack on the prowl. And we’d be closer to the holding compound when we do catch the killer.”

  Matt shook his head. “It would serve no purpose except make us appear even more guilty. We’ll find the culprit ourselves and have him removed.” He clapped his hands. “Now we should break into groups and get to work. We’ll set up a system where we alternate night duty to catch anyone sneaking out. Payton, time for you to visit Tallulah Silver.”

  Terrific. He suppressed the resentment. Matt was their leader, looking out for everyone’s safety. Still, it chafed to take orders on his personal affairs. It didn’t matter that Tallulah intrigued him and that he’d planned on visiting her anyway to discover why she continued to intrude on their privacy.

  He rose and headed for the door, Jillian close behind. Outside, the sun was beginning to set over the cotton field, casting coral and purple rays. Payton faced her reluctantly. “What is it, Jillian?”

  “My brother thinks he’s so smart. But this idea is stupid. You don’t have to make a move on that woman.”

  He scratched his head. “I’d really rather not talk about it with you,” he said at last. If he bad-mouthed Matt, she might let it slip to him. Blood was thicker than water, as the saying went. With others in the pack dredging up his father’s past, he didn’t need Matt’s good opinion of him to waver.

  Jillian thrust her face next to his, her eyes round and tearful. “Tell Matt you tried, but that Tallulah isn’t interested in you.”

  Which was probably the truth.

  “I’ll do my duty,” he said. “I have no choice. You know that.”

  Her mouth planted onto his, strong and demanding. Just as suddenly, Jillian stepped back. “Don’t forget me,” she insisted. “We’re two of a kind. I could be a good mate.”

  When this was over, he’d have to firmly break the news to Jillian that he didn’t share her strong feelings. She seemed incapable of taking a hint.

  “You know I won’t forget you,” he said, appeasing her. “You’re my friend.”

  He quickly bounded down the steps to avoid seeing her reaction. Hard enough dealing with his own emotions without throwing hers in the mix.

  Payton drove the short distance to Tallulah’s cabin. With any luck, she wouldn’t be home. But as soon as he pulled in her driveway, he saw a light shining from the front room. The truck’s tires rattled over dirt and rocks. Tallulah’s face appeared at the window and she frowned as she recognized his truck.

  With a sigh, he shut off the engine and approached her home. His fist stopped in midair, as she whisked the door open before he could knock.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  She wore shorts and a red tank top, looking sexier than hell. It threw him off his game, made him think like a sex-obsessed teenager. He drew a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “We should talk.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d ever want to talk to me again after I called the sheriff.”

  “You sure like to get right to the point,” he said wryly. “As for the sheriff, someone would have called the man soon enough.”

  To his surprise, she left the door open, turning her back on him as she went and sat on a sofa. He entered, observing the inside of her cabin with curiosity. It was pristine and minimalistic, yet managed to convey a sense of comfort. On the coffee table was a large bowl of fresh fruit. The cushion on the high-backed leather chair held a colorful ball of yarn and needles.

  “You knit?” It seemed incongruent with her assertive personality.

  She shrugged, moved the bundle of needlework to an end table and sat down. “Crochet. Have a seat.”

  He sprawled on the sofa and stared at a display of dream catchers on the opposite wall, anything to keep from staring at her legs and cleavage like an idiot.

  “So you enjoy craft stuff,” he remarked. “I thought that was for grannies.”

  “Lots of women crochet now to relax. It passes the time.”

  Might as well get right down to business, same as Tallulah. “I was upset earlier because you found the body and always appear to be snooping around. Was that your dream catcher the cops found by the body?”

  “It was.”

  “How do you suppose it got there?”

  Tallulah set down the yarn and crossed her arms. “I have no clue.”

  “Okay, then answer this. What were you doing on our property again?”

  Her cheeks subtly reddened. “I’d gone for a walk and smelled something. So I went to investigate.”

  He frowned. “I couldn’t smell anything until I came within a dozen yards of the victim. And I have an excellent nose.”

  “I have a strong sense of smell.”

  Hah. No way it was as strong as his. What wasn’t she telling him? He had his own extraordinary nose, but only in wolf form.

  “You’re spying on us, aren’t you?” he accused.

  “If you don’t have anything to hide, it shouldn’t bother you.”

  She tucked her long, bare legs underneath her. He had a sudden vision of those legs wrapped around his ass and back, drawing him closer... He bit the inside of his mouth. Focus.

  “So you don’t deny it. People have a right to their privacy, you know.”

  “Not if they’re dangerous,” she countered.

  “We aren’t,” he said. “You think you saw an animal come in our house one night and you’ve blown that one incident all out of proportion. Truth is, you resent us clearing the land and are looking for a reason to turn the community against us.”


  “You sound like Sheriff Angier.” Tallulah rose to her feet and paced the small room. “You’re right about one thing. I do resent you and the rest of your crew. You don’t belong here. I’ve made my feelings plain about your job.”

  “That’s no grounds for what you did, trying to throw us under the bus with that sheriff.”

  Her fingers curled into her palm. “I was telling the truth.”

  “Look at a couple of other truths—you found the body, and your dream catcher was found on the scene.”

  She sucked in a breath and glared at him. “I’m no murderer.”

  He rose and stood face-to-face with Tallulah. “Neither am I.”

  Her breasts rose and fell. The air crackled with anger and tension and...something else. Something more elemental and primitive. Tallulah’s copper-brown eyes darkened and her gaze dropped to his mouth.

  This was crazy. Utterly absurd. She infuriated him and turned him on all at the same time. Payton cursed under his breath.

  “Wh—?” she began.

  His mouth crushed down against hers. It was better between them when Tallulah wasn’t talking. Her lips were pliant and willing. And her body was soft and yielding, even if her temperament was the opposite.

  The kiss deepened and all he could do was drink in the sensations of this woman that intrigued him like no other. She was fierce and gentle, abrasive and yet oh, so sweet.

  Tallulah pulled away first. “I think you should go now.”

  Was he pushing for too much too soon? Or was she still hung up on her dead lover? Payton brushed a finger against her slightly swollen lips. “I’ll be back,” he promised. “Soon.”

  Keeping an eye on her for the wolf pack would be no chore.

  Chapter 6

  Was somebody framing her for murder? Tallulah wondered as she circled the area surrounding Bo’s memorial, her agitation increasing. No. She had no enemies, save for the shadow spirits. And this was definitely not their modus operandi. But who?

  Tallulah snatched up a dream catcher that she spotted in the brambles. Good thing she found it before the cops scoured the area—if they came this far out. Her temples throbbed. There could be more. She’d comb every inch of these grounds.

  An hour later, she’d collected five more discarded dream catchers, each close by an animal carcass. This had to stop. She hurried back to her sanctuary.

  “I’m sorry, Bo. These have to come down.”

  With trembling fingers, she untied all of the dream catchers from the tree branches, stuffing them into her backpack, crushing them to make them fit. Instead of feeling better, the act made her more desperate, more panicked. Her labored breathing sounded like the roar of a hurricane to her sensitive ears.

  She had to stop. Think. Tallulah sat on a stump and took a long swallow of water from her canteen. That was better. She surveyed the area. It looked bare and desolate. Except for the ring of shells and crystals. With a sigh, she stood and tossed the shells from the inner circle into the woods. Shells were everywhere—they wouldn’t lead anyone to her. But the crystals were a problem.

  Tallulah gathered the crystals and dropped them into her overloaded backpack. When she returned home this evening, she’d place them around her favorite framed photo of Bo.

  Shadows lengthened in the late afternoon sun, providing a bit of relief from the stifling humidity. Clumps of wet hair, which had escaped her ponytail, stuck to her face and neck. Tallulah gathered the loose strands and retied the elastic headband.

  Had she found all her dream catchers? She’d have to return again in the morning and widen her search area, but she’d done the best she could for now.

  And tomorrow was the start of the full-moon week. She’d tell Tombi and the other shadow hunters what had happened and alert them to be on the lookout for any more missing dream catchers. Between them, she could be assured there were none left unaccounted.

  The heavy dread in her stomach eased. Action usually overcame fear. Satisfied, she stepped onto the trail to return home. Time to think of pleasant things.

  She smiled broadly, remembering Payton’s kiss last night. He’d wanted to take it further this time, but she’d stopped his advances. It was still way too soon for her. After Hanan’s betrayal two years ago, she’d vowed to never be duped again. Not that she’d been in love with Hanan. He’d been convenient, had made her feel like a desirable woman again. And how she’d paid for their brief fling. Because of Hanan, she’d placed all of the hunters in jeopardy. What horrible judgment on her part. How could she ever trust her instincts about a man again?

  Stop. Pleasant thoughts, remember? She touched her fingers to her lips, recalling the press of Payton’s lips against her own. The immediate, all-consuming desire that had erupted through her body. Even the memory—

  A twig snapped. A low growl vibrated in the air—the wolf had returned.

  With a practice born of years of experience. Tallulah swiftly and silently loaded her slingshot and drew back the band. Another growl erupted and she aimed the slingshot toward the sound. Her eyes strained to observe patterns in the dim twilight, to locate the slightest shift of movement.

  An explosion of crackles and snapped vines emerged from the underbrush. The brown-haired wolf charged, its primal eyes pinning her with deadly intention.

  Tallulah let loose the band, aiming the stone at its heart. The wolf dipped its head and body in one swift movement and the stone harmlessly hurtled past it.

  Damn. Unusual to miss at this close range. The animal was more cunning than she’d guessed. It leaped in the air, determined and fast.

  “Get out of here!” she screamed as loud as she could, hoping the noise would scare it away. The wolf never slowed and she drew her dagger. Another lunging leap, and it was close enough to touch. A metallic, pungent scent of blood and fur flew at her. The wolf bared its teeth. Bubbling drool spilled down the corners of its powerful jaws.

  Was it mad?

  She thrust her right hand forward. If it jumped on top of her, the dagger would do damage to its soft underbelly.

  Solid animal muscle pounced, throwing her to the ground with the impact. She plunged her dagger into the wolf’s belly, felt the rip as the weapon shredded through fur and skin to guts. It let out a howling yelp, as if she had delivered a mortal wound.

  She prayed it was.

  It rolled off her body and glared at her. The hate and intelligence in its eyes were undeniable. Was it so territorial that just the notion of sharing space with a human made it murderous and reckless with rage?

  She held the bloody dagger in her hand, returning its stare. Wolves were foreign; she knew nothing of their nature. Not the way she did with native animals like deer and foxes and the occasional wild boar.

  Her eyes dropped down its torso to where her dagger had pierced, leaving a small incision around its abdomen. Small, but deep. Blood gushed from the wound. Surely now it would tuck tail and leave.

  It didn’t.

  Unblinking yellow eyes stared into her own with an intelligence she’d never encountered in a wild animal. It hobbled up onto its four legs and turned its tail to her, preparing to retreat. Finally.

  Yet she didn’t dare move. A nagging instinct warned her the wolf had not truly submitted to her dominance. The bloody dagger clenched in her right hand was warm and wet.

  The wolf suddenly turned and ran behind her prostrate body. She scrambled to her knees, but she felt pain burst into her right shoulder.

  The damn wolf had bitten her. Its teeth ripped her flesh, its jaw tightened and her stabbing arm was immobilized, a useless appendage. The more she tried to jerk herself free, the tighter its bite became. Her slingshot was lost somewhere, knocked loose from her hands when the wolf had jumped her the first time. Tallulah screamed—a volley of angry curses.

  The wolf released
its grip.

  Tallulah rose on unsteady feet and regarded her foe. Its ears were pinned back, as if it heard something that she couldn’t. The wolf turned tail on her again, this time hobbling past the tree line and out of sight.

  Loud ringing flooded her ears. Tallulah took a deep breath. Just a bite. I can make it home. She turned her neck, observed her torn, bloody flesh. At least it hadn’t bitten her neck. She’d live.

  A vision of its drool flashed in her mind. Yeah, she’d live. If the thing didn’t have rabies.

  She gathered her backpack and retrieved her weapons. Got to...go...

  Blackness trickled into her awareness until it coated her vision, her mind. Her body responded last, dropping to the earth. She braced herself for the impact that never came.

  * * *

  Payton bent low to the ground, scowling. A dead squirrel—and beside it a sparkling rock that was too pretty to be natural. He picked it up and ran his fingers across the smooth, tumbled crystal of yellow citrine. Where could this have come from?

  He’d barely framed the question when he recalled Tallulah’s special place. There had been crystals there. Lots of them. Scattered in mosaics with seashells in some kind of tribute to her dead lover.

  First, a human body with Tallulah’s dream catcher and now a dead animal with another one of her relics. His fist tightened over the citrine. Were these the sick trophies of a demented killer?

  He didn’t believe in coincidences.

  He stuffed the crystal into his pants pocket, unwilling to leave the incriminating evidence behind. Not until he had a chance to ask Tallulah for an explanation.

  Payton closed his eyes, pictured her dark eyes deepening darker still with desire when they’d kissed last night. He couldn’t reconcile that image with one of a murderer. Just as he couldn’t reconcile the fierce woman as a secret knitter by night.

  So who and what was the real Tallulah?

  He’d find out. Whatever it took.

  A howl pierced through the silent twilight. Payton stilled. That was a wolf howl. No doubt about it. He hadn’t heard of any approved outings. Matt had warned them all not to shape-shift, not even as a group. It was too dangerous. Cops kept surveillance on the crime scene, hoping the killer would return.