by Keri Hudson
“Master Armstrong has some locked up in his study, but I don’t have a key. Not even Edith is allowed in the study. You didn’t find the rifle in the tool shed?”
“Meant to search the downstairs, didn’t have time.”
“Search it?”
“My brother, I’m still hoping he left some word for me, a diary or something.”
“Why would that be down in the tool shed?”
Caleb kept his eyes on the woods. “In case he was hiding it.”
“Hiding it? But… from who?”
“My question exactly.” More blue orbs appeared out of the darkness, always in pairs.
Abigail followed his line of sight to the woods surrounding the plateau among the foothills. “What… what are they, wolves?”
Caleb shook his head. He had doubts about that, but he couldn’t explain them to Abigail, at least not there and then. Abigail said, “Let’s go inside; they’ll go away.”
Caleb knew better. “You go inside. I’m going to get that rifle. Where did you say that rifle was?”
“Downstairs somewhere, I’m not sure. Just leave it alone, Caleb. They’ll go away.”
“They’ll go away this time, Abigail, maybe. But they’ll be back, maybe snatch little Daniel. They’re testing the grounds, claiming it for their own. No, they have to know who the alpha male is around here… and at the moment, that’s me.”
Caleb stepped toward the cottage.
“Caleb!”
“Go back into the house!” In the corner of his eye, he could see Abigail retreating toward the house, but he knew she’d be lingering by the door. Caleb looked up to see Daniel watching from his bedroom window. But there was no time to wave him away. The cottage was about fifty feet away and the animals were already breaking out of the woods toward him. They were big, too big to be coyotes. But wolves were nearly extinct in Massachusetts. Caleb took them for the infamous coywolves he’d heard about, hybrids which were local to the area and were bigger and more aggressive than normal coyotes.
Caleb knew there was an easier way than shooting them, but he couldn’t reveal his secret to Abigail or Daniel or the others, not unless it was absolutely necessary. So he moved quickly across the yard to the cottage just as the five coywolves closed in, jaws clapping, yapping at one another.
Caleb made it into the shed and closed the door, the coywolves barking and scraping at the door with their front paws, scratching at the wood. Caleb turned on the lights and looked around the shed. He reasoned there’d be a gun closet for such a thing, tall and narrow, and there was just such a space on the other side of the riding mower. But Caleb had parked a bit close, and he had to squeeze around the front of the mower to get to the gun cabinet. He knew that if the coywolves were to breach the door with him in that prone position, he’d be at a terrible disadvantage. They barked and thrashed at the door, the wood no doubt slowly giving way.
Caleb worked his way around the front of the mower and to the cabinet. The latch was closed but unlocked and Caleb was not surprised to find a Remington pump-action shotgun and a box of shells. Not a hunting weapon, this was meant for self-defense. But he’d only have three shells at a time in the gun, and probably little time to reload.
The coywolves were battering the door. Caleb checked that the gun was loaded, grabbed a few more shells from the box, and scurried back around the mower to the door. They knew he was in there, and they seemed to be enraged, blood thirsty. Caleb had his theories about that. They weren’t shifters, but they likely had been attracted by the shifter battle of just a few days before. Natural predators hated shifters; they could smell them even in human form where shifters could not detect one another. With Carl gone, they must have detected the new shifter on the plateau and came in for the kill.
Not today, you mangy mutts!
But Caleb knew they’d charge him, that even if he could get one shot off, they’d be likely to storm him. Another idea struck, and Caleb raced up the stairs. He opened the window facing the yard, seeing the five coywolves cluttered at the door beneath the window. Caleb cocked the shotgun, aimed, and pulled the trigger.
Blam!
The coywolf nearest the door was hit on the top of its head, the skull vaporizing, its body falling instantly to the ground. The others wailed and bolted, running around in a crazed circle of confusion, anger, fear, and raw aggression.
Caleb tried to line up another shot, but they were running too fast, not seeming to be aware of his presence above them. Caleb knew he had to get closer. Caleb held the rifle in one hand and pushed himself out of the window, holding the ledge until he was closer before dropping himself down to the ground.
As soon as he landed, the coywolves spotted him and turned, charging. He heard Abigail’s distant screams from the house. He cocked the shotgun, aimed, and shot at the nearest one.
Blam! The coywolf cried and snapped back before its lifeless body collapsed, not far from its stricken leader.
Another coywolf charged Caleb from behind. With no time to cock and shoot, Caleb turned and smashed the butt of the rifle into the coywolf’s face. It helped, the sound of crunching bone and moist meat tearing telling Caleb he’d struck a decisive blow. The creature was still alive, staggering back, but it wouldn’t do him much harm.
And there were still two coywolves to deal with. One was perfectly positioned for a shotgun blast, so a quick cock and aiming preceded that familiar loud blast.
Blam!
He was out of shells, with one fit coywolf facing him down, the other barely managing to stay on its feet. Caleb couldn’t help but smile. He extended his hand and waved the coywolf in, but the creature was clearly second-guessing their attack. He was the only survivor of four, and when Caleb cocked the shotgun, dry though it was, the last coywolf turned and ran back across the plateau and into the woods.
Caleb turned to the survivor, its head bashed in as it struggled to limp away. The creature was suffering, and it would never survive in the wild though it could endure hours of torturous struggle. Caleb pulled one of the shells he’d taken from the box, loaded it into the shotgun, and pointed it at the coywolf’s head at point-blank range.
“Sorry, pal.”
Blam!
The animal fell instantly to the ground, leaving Caleb to look around at the four dead coywolves, the shotgun hot in his hands, the smell of gunpowder heavy in the air around him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Caleb wasn’t sure what to do with the four coywolves. He was convinced that he’d established among the remaining population that he wasn’t to be messed with; the surviving coywolf would surely bring that message back to any others it was communing with, unless its entire pack had died and it had been left a lone predator. In any case, it wasn’t about to return.
But there were other predators, black bears, big ones, and they were increasingly unafraid of humans and more accustomed to raiding their garbage cans, their storage containers, even their pets. Caleb knew it wasn’t such a bear that killed his brother, but they could still be attracted by the scent of blood and rotting meat.
There wasn’t much time to work it out before Abigail came out to the backyard with Fall River PD Det. Paul Hume. Caleb didn’t need to be called back to the house; he knew what the visit was about.
Hume said, “What did I tell you about shooting animals out here?”
“You warned me against hunting the bear who killed my brother,” Caleb said calmly. “But these things attacked me. What was I going to do?”
“You just happened to be holding a shotgun when they broke out of the woods?”
Abigail watched, saying nothing.
Caleb said, “They were marauding the property and I repelled them. Are coywolves a protected species?”
Hume sighed, scratching his chin and shaking his head. “Not yet. But you can’t be discharging a weapon in the county like that, not without a hunting license. I had a driver phone this in, half out of her mind!”
“And I’m sorry for the inco
nvenience,” Caleb said. “But this family needs a protector, and they’re too isolated to rely on you or animal control or anyone else. They have to rely on me, and I’m not going to let them down.”
Hume and Caleb stared each other down. Hume said, “I’m not gonna warn you again, Mr. Kahr.”
Without flinching, eyes locked on the detective’s, Caleb answered, “You won’t have to.” After another tense moment, Hume glanced around the property. “I’ll have animal control come by and pick up the bodies. Don’t wanna bring more predators around.”
Caleb looked him up and down. “Much appreciated,” was his only answer. Edith saw the detective out while Abigail drifted toward Caleb’s side.
“He worries me,” Abigail said softly. “I’m not sure why, but… he worries me.”
Caleb knew why, but of course he could not say. Instead he responded simply, “Yeah, he worries me too.”
After Hume left, Caleb and Abigail went back up to calm Daniel and get him back to sleep. Edith and Lulu were quite upset as well, and they were no easier to calm. If anything, Daniel was excited, thrilled by the battle he saw unfold in the yard below. But he was also exhausted, and it wasn’t long before the entire house was quiet again.
The officers from the Animal Control Office showed up, led by a rugged woman with a thick body, short brown hair, and a manly air about her.
“Jane Baxter,” she said with a firm shake of Abigail’s hand. “Nice to see you again, Miss Sanderson.” Abigail seemed as interested in ignoring the obvious come-on as Caleb was. “Having more trouble here, I see.”
“A bear not a week ago,” Caleb said, “now coywolves? That’s a lot of activity, isn’t it?”
“Not really,” Jane said. “Time of year, human encroachment on their natural habitats. Those coywolves are getting aggressive. We don’t recommend engaging them, however.” Jane led two male Animal Control officers as they carried the four big coywolves into their truck. “You want us to set some traps around the area?”
Caleb looked at Abigail, who shook her head. “I dunno.”
Jane said, “We’ll come back when it’s light, set a few around the perimeter. You go walking in the woods?”
“Not anymore,” Abigail said without seeming to need to think about it.
“Okay then, see you tomorrow.”
They saw her out, then Abigail walked Caleb across the yard to his cottage to say goodnight. “Such a strange coincidence, those things showing up, and the bear just a few days before that. You really think it’s, y’know, too much expansion of the human population? I mean, it’s been a crazy week.”
Caleb nodded. “Yeah, it’s… it’s a lot to take in.” But there was a lot more to it than she could know or than he dared to explain.
“Do you think maybe… those things were responsible for your brother’s death? I mean, that would stand to reason. And it would mean you’ve already settled the score.”
But Caleb knew her theory was misguided in a way she had no way of knowing. Caleb had seen the battle, he’d seen his brother’s enemy, now his own. It was no pack of coywolves.
“Maybe,” Caleb said, “but the animal control people said a bear, didn’t they? I’d think they’d know.”
Abigail nodded as they approached the cottage. “I’m so grateful you’re here,” Abigail said. “We all are. If you hadn’t been here, and one of those things had gotten into the house? I can’t imagine what I would have done.”
Caleb put his hands on her upper arms, palms on her creamy skin, fingers gently squeezing.
“You won’t have to imagine.”
Abigail looked away, biting her lower lip. “No, you’ll… you’ll leave soon, once all this is seen to.”
“Who says I will?”
She finally looked into his eyes and he into hers. They stood face to face, lips nearing, hearts beating in sync. There were reasons not to, but every natural compulsion in Caleb’s body urged him to pull her in, lips pressing together, tongues intermingling. Her scent, her pretty face, that curly red hair, her feminine presence so powerful in front of him, his animal self clamoring inside him. It needed her, he needed her, and as she looked up at him with that sweet innocence and lightly freckled purity, he knew he had to have her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Once in the apartment on the second floor of his cottage, Caleb could hardly contain himself. Chemicals pulsed through his body, hot and powerful, blood surging in his veins. His hands found her incredible curves, magic beneath his palms; the grace of her hips, the silky warmth of her skin as he kissed her lips. Her nipples glanced against his ribs, erect as they rose to his arousing presence.
Caleb kissed his way down her neck, smooth and sleek, perfect as her creamy shoulder rose up to him. A tiny coo leaked out of her luscious lips, her fingers finding his thick, black hair. Her long, white fingers pulled tight, the sting in his scalp a sensual challenge, one he was ready to answer.
Their clothes fell away easily, standing in the center of the living room with the bedroom only a few steps away. Caleb scooped her up in a cradle carry, her arms around his neck as he walked her away from the piles of their clothes and their doubts. Her eyes were locked on his, the moment known by both of them to be right and perfect. He lay her down on the bed and knelt down to hover above her, his lips finding her rising bosom, a thin sheen of sweat already collecting. His lips and hands found her nipples, hard and ready in his mouth, against his cheeks, blinking his eyelashes to tickle them to an obviously terrific effect. Abigail gasped and her chest rose up to meet him, clearly from purely sexual instinct. Abigail’s inner woman was coming out, overtaking her demure façade, a sensual and sexual storm ready to break over the landscape of her soul.
What his mouth could not envelop, his hand deftly mastered, pulling and cupping, licking and blowing little streams of air that he knew would excite her beyond all her expectations. Her little groan told Caleb he was right.
He relished all that creamy pale skin, perfect and free of fat or blemish, a sleek white creature of unimpeachable physical perfection. He knew his kisses were registering by the quivering of her taut belly, little gasps leaking out as his kisses descended, her hips rolling slowly and her legs separating in anticipation. Her knees rose, his strong hand curled around the sides of her thighs to gently hold them in place. Her pelvis was already grinding in anticipation, her knees pulling up to give him all the access he would need.
Caleb was graceful and confident, head between her thighs as his tongue reached out to greet her. Deft and agile, he tickled and danced around those luscious labia, the elegant fragrance of her blossoming womanhood collecting around him, intoxicating, invigorating. Caleb felt stronger with every breath, breathing in her hidden strength and power which even she had no idea was deep within her. But as it was liberated, something else in Abigail seemed to come with it. Her fingers gripped his hair tighter, pulled those black tufts a bit harder, moaned a bit louder, writhed with just a bit more thrust and gusto.
Her pink tissues reached out to meet him, dainty and tasty, fingers rubbing and tickling and encouraging her. Abigail’s legs spread further, her hips pushing up in a rhythmic grind. Caleb’s tongue pushed up and in, waggling back and forth as he ran it up and down her flower’s length, exciting the clusters of nerves that were too long ignored.
Faster, wetter, Caleb savored the flavor of her center. Her thighs squeezed against the sides of his head as if trying to consume him, her entire body a mouth to devour him as he was devouring her.
Caleb pushed those strong, reedy legs apart and crawled up to loom above her, his eyes locking on hers.
He slipped himself into her, that hot, wet clench wrapping around his head as he left it there. He looked down into her pretty face to see it bend into a mask of pouting pleasure, brows arching and eyes dipping shut.
“No, no,” he said, his voice low and grainy and certain, “open your eyes, Abigail. Look at me, be with me.” Abigail did open her eyes, a little gasp escaping from th
ose plump, pouting lips.
Caleb slipped himself in just a little more and stopped again, letting just the first few inches of himself inside her. Abigail’s hips began to shift, but a shake of Caleb’s head told her to lie still, a slave to his suggestive command. He pulled out just a bit and then eased in again, terribly and terrifically slow.
“Oh yeah,” Caleb growled, “you’ve been waiting, you’ve been lonely, such a sweet and sexy thing with no love, no man…”
“Yes…”
Caleb began a slow, purposeful grind in and out; just the first few inches, pressing against her flowering tissues, merely suggesting the pummeling to come. Abigail’s sensual grind matched him with a sweet and sexy promise of her own, one Caleb knew she intended to keep.
Circular motions added new sensations to Caleb and to Abigail too, he could tell. He could read her body, feel her pulse quickening, chart every wriggle of her hips and irregular beat of her heart.
“And I’ve been waiting,” Caleb went on, “waiting for you, Abigail, searching, hoping, dreaming… dreaming of you, Abigail, you and only you.”
“Yes.”
Caleb started a quicker pace, digging in deeper and pulling out in quick little juts to leave that massive member inside her. His midshaft mastery painted a picture of passionate pain on her pretty face, lips bent and brows arched, pouting and whimpering as her shoulders arched up. She turned her head, burying half her face into the pillow of red curls around her. He ground in little juts at midshaft, driving up their mutual friction and tension and excitement.
“I knew it from the minute I saw you, that you needed me and that I needed you. I had to have you…”
“Yes!”
“I have to have you now! So sweet, you gorgeous thing… so sweet, so good…”
Caleb ground in deeper and harder and faster, unleashing his full power into her. Her luscious body lay beneath him, inspiring every masculine impulse. He wanted to have her and love and cradle her; he wanted to crush and devour and destroy her. And for all her frail femininity, Abigail responded to his hardened thrusting with animal toughness, jaws clenched and hair wild, sweating and panting and grinding. It was as if she was reaching back beyond her demure civility, the years of polite social niceties, to a time and place where none of those things mattered. She was no longer the picture of sweet purity, but the reflection of her primal self—uncivilized, wild with abandon, unleashed at long last.