Baby, I'm Howling for You

by Christine Warren

  Goddess, the idea of her in danger almost made him lose control. He’d have to take up fucking Zen breathing techniques to keep from sprouting fangs every time he so much as thought about the coyotes trying to hunt her down. He could barely maintain his fucking sanity, and she was wondering if he was capable of falling in love with her?

  Fuck, he’d already landed on his head hard enough to cause a concussion, and he had a feeling he hadn’t even hit bottom.

  He opened his mouth, feeling the way his teeth had already sharpened into fangs, and hoped he’d still be able to manage enough human language to get his point across. Then again, it might be a good thing if she couldn’t understand the first few words that wanted to come out of his mouth. ’Cause them were fightin’ words.

  Mick never got a chance to insult his mate’s intelligence, perception, or instincts. He was too busy reacting to the large, solid mass that suddenly appeared in the middle of the road in front of him.

  Deer.

  He hit the brakes hard and jerked the wheel to the right, doing his best to avoid the stag that burst out of the tree line and across the expanse of asphalt. The truck swerved, headlights raking over the animal’s hide and revealing bloody traces of tooth and claw along its hindquarters.

  That brief glance told him three things: one, that the deer bore the marks of being harried by predators, which meant it was not the only thing out in the woods tonight; two, whatever was after the deer would have been able to hear their vehicle approaching well before the deer made for the road; and three, his mate had just been endangered. Again.

  Beside him, Renny hadn’t made a sound, or at least not much of one. She’d squeaked briefly at the first sight of the deer, but then she’d gotten control of herself and braced against impact. Mick managed to swerve and avoid a wreck, but he had to run them off the road to do it, narrowly missing the trunk of a massive spruce and bringing them to a jerking stop in the middle of a patch of brambles. The thorns made hissing squeals as they scraped against the metal truck.

  He looked immediately to his mate to make certain she wasn’t hurt.

  “Did we hit it?”

  Snapping branches and rustling leaves as the buck scrambled and crashed through the underbrush answered her question, but it raised new ones for Mick. Whatever predator had injured the deer should be moving in for the kill, which meant they should be able to catch a glimpse.

  Unless the deer wasn’t the real prey.

  He had a bad feeling.

  “Shh. Get down.” He reached over, releasing her seat belt with one hand and using the other to press her toward the floor.

  “Mick, what—”

  “Quiet.”

  He flipped off the truck’s ignition and counted the heartbeats it took for his eyes to adjust to the dark of the deserted roadside. Three. Four.

  There.

  He blinked and focused on an irregular shadow creeping forward from the trees where the deer had recently emerged. His eyes registered the movement more than the shape, because nature had provided it with effective camouflage. Dense fur in the shades of forest darkness blended into the background, but the glow of pale yellow eyes revealed the stalking form of a coyote.

  Yeah, a really bad feeling.

  But then again, Renny’s conversational gambit had put him in the mood to attack something, and what better target than a sneaky, low-down coyote out to harm his mate? Hell, maybe his evening was looking up.

  He began to peel off his shirt, ignoring Renny’s protests. “Stay here, keep the doors locked, and stay down,” he ordered, eyes fixed on the approaching shifter. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Mick!”

  He ignored her shout, stripped down to skin, and climbed out of the car, hitting the door locks on the way out. He didn’t think this would take long, not the way he was feeling.

  With a feral smile, he stretched his muscles and shifted.

  Renny cursed a blue streak and fumbled around on the floor of the truck for her bag. Damn him, but her mate was about to get himself seriously mauled unless she did something to stop it. She’d been through this before, and she knew damned well that where one coyote appeared, others would not be far away, not when they were on the hunt.

  She grabbed her purse and fumbled to free her phone. This setup had all the earmarks of a trap, and she’d nearly been caught in enough of them to recognize one when she saw it.

  The deer had been a distraction, not prey. While shifter packs hunted large prey more often than natural coyotes, they still employed similar tactics of swarming the victim. Wolves would bring an animal down from the rear, attacking from behind, crippling, and then moving in for the kill, but coyotes liked to take their victims head-on, going for the head, throat, and neck. The fact that the deer that had run in front of Mick’s car had borne injuries only to its hindquarters meant that the coyotes hadn’t been hunting it; they’d been driving it ahead of them, forcing it into the road and in front of Mick’s truck. Left with no choice but to run off the road or crash into the big buck, either way, Mick would have to stop on this stretch of deserted road and give the coyotes a chance to kill him.

  Well, fuck that with malice aforethought.

  Renny punched a number into her phone and prayed for a swift response. She wasn’t going to let her mate get hurt on her watch.

  She knew she was really worried when she didn’t even bother to drool over Mick’s naked ass during the brief moment before he shifted from man to wolf. Her instincts proved correct when just seconds later, three more coyotes leapt from the shadows at the side of the road and surrounded the lone wolf.

  “Alpha 911. Please state your emergency.”

  “I’m on Hidden Fork Road northeast of Browning Creek. My mate is being attacked by coyotes. Send deputies out now!”

  “Ma’am, I need you to stay calm,” the voice told her. “I’m contacting the sheriff’s department, but it may take a few minutes for them to reach you. Remain on the line. Can you tell me—”

  Renny stopped listening. Her eyes were glued to the motion outside the truck. The four members of the Sawmill hunting party had surrounded her mate and were circling him like furry sharks, waiting for an opening in his defenses. For his part, Mick stood tall in the center of the road, his posture stiff and challenging but not at all intimidated by the coyotes’ superior numbers.

  “Stupid wolf,” she muttered, wincing when the first coyote—Bryce—lowered itself into a crouch and then sprang at the wolf’s head.

  Mick didn’t fall for it. He stood his ground until the last moment, then feinted right and spun to meet Will, who had darted in to bite at his flank. A flash of fangs met the smaller canine, tearing open the skin over the coyote’s sharp muzzle. The shifter yelped, and the remaining two pack mates leapt into the fray.

  “Ma’am!” came the voice from the phone, distant and muffled, but that was probably because Renny had dropped the device to the floorboards and was busy fumbling her way out of her first-day library clothes. Her mate was outnumbered.

  “Shit.”

  Her trousers tangled around her ankles, reluctant to come off over the low-heeled boots she’d forgotten to remove. She heard seams ripping and couldn’t be bothered to care that she was destroying one of the few suitable outfits she had for her new job. She’d work at the library naked if she had to. Mick needed her help.

  It took three slaps at the button on the driver’s-side door to disengage the locks, and then she went sailing into the darkness, skin shivering into fur before her paws even touched the ground.

  Instead of welcoming her, her mate snarled at her approach, opening himself to yet another attack. A tawny coyote—Tommy—darted in under his guard and managed to get a mouthful of fur before Mick shook him off and batted him away with a strike of his huge paw.

  Renny ignored the sign of displeasure. One wolf against four coyotes was not good odds, especially not when the coyotes had been working and hunting together for years. Their numbers gave them
too great an opportunity to surround the wolf, and even a battle-tested alpha couldn’t keep watch in four directions at once. She would have to watch his back, and if he didn’t like it, that was his tough nougat.

  She dove forward to put herself between her mate and the darkest of the coyotes. Eric had thought to take advantage of Mick’s distraction and strike while the wolf was focused on his mate, but Renny put a stop to that. She slammed her shoulder into the attacking male, sending him stumbling back a few steps. A similar blow from Mick would have sent the coyote tail over ears, but her smaller size made her no larger than the males of the other species. It left them on equal footing.

  It also seemed to give the pack ideas. They saw how Mick reacted to his mate joining the fight, and they immediately began to exploit that weakness. The four coyotes fell back from their attacks on Mick and began to focus their attention on Renny.

  Beside her, she could practically feel the growl vibrating in her mate’s chest. He crowded close to her, attempting to herd her back toward the truck, but she uttered a rumbling protest of her own. He might not want her in danger, but she’d be damned if she’d let him face down four coyotes all by himself. She just hoped the cavalry was already on its way.

  Will, his wounded muzzle still welling blood, lowered himself toward the ground and began to slink closer, as if Renny were a rabbit he intended to have for dinner. Mick snarled a warning and moved toward the threat, but Will had only been setting the stage for his cousin to strike. Tommy dove in from the right, forcing Mick not away from Renny but into her. She stumbled, thrown off balance by the impact, and Eric immediately rushed in to grab her by the scruff and drag her away. Meanwhile, Will and Tommy pinned her mate between them and Bryce began to move in for the kill.

  Nothing had ever sounded so good to Renny’s ears as the shrill wailing of sirens in the distance. She dug her claws into the earth and pulled back against Eric’s grip, wincing when his teeth bit through fur to the skin and muscle underneath. Damn it, she was sick and tired of bleeding already. She hoped the deputies were playing hell with the damned speed limit.

  A series of vicious snarls had her head snapping around and drove the coyote’s teeth deeper into her neck. She couldn’t have cared less, because she caught a glimpse of Mick rearing back on his hind legs, jaws locked in combat with Bryce while the Molinas attempted to bring him down with swift, diving attacks from either side.

  That was just fucking cheating.

  With a low huff of anger, she twisted sharply, dropping her shoulder and flipping herself onto her back. The move surprised Eric and weakened his hold on her enough that she was able to jerk free and scramble back to her feet before he recovered. She didn’t pause to take advantage of the moment, instead spinning on her heels and throwing herself at the closest coyote attacking her mate.

  She sank her teeth into Will’s back, tearing him away just before he went for Mick’s exposed side. She used every ounce of her body weight to flip him to the ground, then shifted to get a better angle on his spine. She’d snap it in two before she’d let him harm her mate.

  Will twisted himself almost in half and snapped back to his feet, his yellow eyes glowing wild and manic in the darkness. For a moment, they stared each other down, then the sound of rubber on pavement rose above the fighting and the glow of red and blue emergency lights began to emerge in the distance.

  About damned time.

  The coyotes scattered. Eric and Will spared her matching glares before bounding into the trees, and Tommy left off his attack on Mick’s flank to follow. Bryce didn’t give up so easily. He wrapped his forelegs around Mick’s shoulders and attempted to drag the larger canine off balance, using his teeth and jaws for leverage.

  Mick shook him off and dropped to all fours, fangs flashing as he went in fast and low, looking to open up the coyote’s belly. Bryce might be smaller, but he was nearly as fast, and he managed to leap out of the way before Mick could grab hold. He spun in midair, offered one last bark of frustrated rage, and disappeared into the forest.

  Renny dropped to her haunches and struggled to catch her breath. Damn, forget Zumba; mortal combat was apparently the true path to physical fitness. She felt like she’d just had the hardest workout of her life. If she’d been in her skin, it would be drenched with sweat.

  Giving a good shake, she resettled her fur and turned to face her mate. He responded by pouncing on her and forcing her onto her back, pinning her to the rough surface of the asphalt. She felt his jaws close around her throat and the intensity of his growl against her skin and made the decision to keep very, very still. It sounded like someone was not very happy with her at the moment.

  He held her pinned there, belly up and whining for mercy, while two squad cars screeched to a halt a few yards down the road. She heard doors fly open and voices shouting and felt a surge of relief that the cavalry had finally arrived. Only now, she wondered if she was the one they were going to have to rescue.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mick held Renny pinned to the pavement and struggled to control his temper. Damn it, he would die before he did anything to hurt his mate, but in that moment, he really, really wanted to strangle her. What the hell had she been thinking?

  His heart had stopped the minute he’d heard her jump out of his truck, but when he’d seen that coyote dragging her away from him, he’d wanted to tear the world apart with his bare claws. He’d told her to stay in the fucking truck, and what had she done? She’d completely ignored him and leapt into the middle of a battle where she was outnumbered, outclassed, and very nearly out of luck.

  He’d had the situation under control. Yeah, he’d been one wolf against four coyotes, but he hadn’t been in any real danger. He was bigger and stronger than any of his opponents, and he had an advantage they couldn’t hope to achieve—he was fighting to defend his mate.

  He could have handled them. Sure, he might have gotten a cut or two, and if they got lucky, he might even be limping afterward, but Mick had no doubt that he’d be the one walking away from the confrontation. These fucking vermin had spent months stalking and terrorizing his female, one of them had dared to lay tooth and claw on her, and they thought they could take him down just because they had him outnumbered?

  Like. Fucking. Hell.

  They should be the ones relieved to hear the approaching sheriff’s deputies, because Mick would have torn out every one of their throats and then sent up a howl to celebrate. He had been out for blood, and his mate had denied him.

  He growled again and tightened his jaws around her throat. Not enough to hurt her, just enough so that she could feel the noise and the heat and the sharpness of his teeth and think for one Goddess-damned second about what kind of danger she had just put herself in.

  Damn it, he wanted her to shift back to her skin, so he could turn it bright red with the flat of his hand. If any female had ever earned a spanking, it was this one.

  “Mick. You okay, buddy?”

  Zeke’s voice reached him, as deep and steady as his steps as he approached them. Mick could hear the caution in the slow movements and wondered if the coyotes had circled back toward them.

  “Dispatch said someone called in a coyote attack on the road out to your place, so I got the posse together and we came running. Only that doesn’t look like a coyote to me, and she sure doesn’t appear to be attacking anyone.”

  Mick snarled, but he didn’t release his mate. He kept his eyes on his friend’s heavy black boots as the man inched closer.

  “Uh, Mick, I don’t think Renny’s planning on going anywhere anytime soon. How about you let her go so I can make sure neither of you is hurt?”

  His mate whined as if seconding the motion. He felt her quivering beneath him and abruptly realized he might be scaring her. Reluctantly, he released his grip and stepped back, waiting for her to spring to her feet and confront him. Instead, she just turned her head and licked the underside of his chin. She was reassuring him.

  Mick retreated anot
her step and reached for his humanity, drawing it forward until the wolf was swallowed up and he stood in his skin in the middle of the road, bathed in two sets of headlights. He had to struggle to control his anger, though control came easier than it had in his fur. He still had the urge to shake his mate and demand to know what the hell she had been thinking when she’d let herself out of the safety of his truck, but the violence behind the emotion was beginning to subside.

  He took several deep breaths and ran a gaze over his mate. He saw a couple of tiny red stains in the fur around her ruff, but she didn’t appear to be seriously injured. The reassurance helped take him down another notch, and that was when he remembered he was standing in the middle of the road, bare-assed naked with four armed deputies watching him warily.

  He glared down at his mate. “Don’t even think about shifting back.”

  She wagged her tail and batted at the air with one paw like a puppy. Damn, she was cute.

  Zeke relaxed a bit, holstering his weapon and giving his friend a quick once-over. “You don’t look dead, so I guess the emergency wasn’t quite so urgent. Care to tell me what happened?”

  “Pants,” Mick growled, and stalked back to his truck to grab his jeans. He also snagged his shirt. Eventually, Renny would want to shift, and he’d be damned if she stood around naked in front of this bunch of perverts. His shirt would be big enough to make a minidress for her. It wasn’t a nice, thick pair of baggy flannel pajamas, but it would do.