Frostbitten
Page 50

Clay jumped off me and spun, snarling at the beast. I scrambled up, but all I could see was that black form, clouds still blocking the moon and Clay now blocking my line of sight.
The beast was on all fours this time. It was at least twice as wide as Clay, its back humped like a bear, sloping to smaller hindquarters.
The beast snarled, a guttural not-quite-natural sound that made my fur rise. Teeth flashed and I caught a whiff of its breath, my stomach churning at the stench.
Clay stood his ground, snarling. Then, without warning, he charged. The beast reared, like a bear, one massive front paw swiping at Clay, but catching only air. Clay had checked his charge at the last second, veering around the beast instead. It tried to spin, but too late, as Clay vaulted onto its back.
The beast clawed the air, trying in vain to reach Clay. I launched myself at its stomach. My jaws clamped onto sparse, coarse hair, then into nearly bald flesh. I clamped down, fangs scraping ribs, blood spurting into my mouth.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the dark form of the mutt racing in. He leapt… and bit down on my rear leg, yanking so hard that I fell back with a flap of the beast's skin in my teeth, blood spraying my face.
I scrabbled up and spun on the mutt, but he was gone, trying to get Clay off the beast's back. I flew after him.
Clay kept slashing at the beast's neck, going for its throat. It roared and bucked. Then, from deep in the woods came an answering roar.
I barked, an awkward sound for a wolf, but I did the best I could, desperate to get Clay's attention. But he'd heard the second beast, and his brain wasn't yet blood-fogged enough not to realize we couldn't take on two of them. He snarled, telling me to get moving, then dropped and hit the ground running.
I headed for the open ground of the clearing, where we could get up some speed, but the mutt took the lead and steered us deeper into the woods instead. As we darted around trees, the beast tried giving chase, but the forest was too dense for him and he quickly fell behind, roaring in frustration. We kept running until we couldn't hear him, then we headed for our clothes.
 
 
SLEEPLESS
 

I WAITED WHILE Clay Changed. Once he was done, and dressing, I walked over to where the mutt lay near the path. I growled and jerked my head, trying to tell him to Change back, that I needed to speak to him. He only looked at me, uncomprehending. When I stepped closer, a wolf shot from the shadows. It was the small gray one I'd seen with the mutt the night before. I backed out of her way. She eyed me with a baleful glower, then snuffled him anxiously. He snorted and bumped her away, as if to say "Enough of that."
Then his muzzle jerked up. He looked over my shoulder and I turned to see Clay coming. The mutt grunted and started walking away, as if his job was done and he was eager to be off.
I started after him. The gray wolf lunged at me, snapping. I fell back. She kept snarling, fur bristling until he circled back and prodded her flank. She started to leave with him, but couldn't resist tossing one last glower and growl my way.
"I think she's warning you off." Clay walked up beside me. To the wolf, he said, "Don't worry, she's already taken."
The wolf chuffed, but still glared at me before turning away.
I raced into the thicket he'd vacated, trying for a quick Change so I could go after the mutt and get him to talk. There was no rushing the process, though, and by the time I finished, he was long gone.
"I tried to call him back," Clay said. "But I don't think he understood, and I wasn't going after him, leaving you alone. Anyway, I'm sure we'll see him again. Hopefully he'll be by himself. I don't think his mate likes you much."
"You really think that's his mate?"
He shrugged. "If that's the form a werewolf chooses, it's no different than another taking a human mate."
"Uh, yes it is. If you'd been a zoo employee instead of a professor, would you have chosen a wolf mate instead of me?"
"Depends on how cute she was."
When I looked at him, he laughed. "I'm kidding, darling. The answer is no because, as much as I like being a wolf, it's not the form I choose. It's too limiting. You can't speak. Can't read. Can't write. The communication of intellectually stimulating ideas is nearly impossible." He grinned at me. "As for stimulation of other kinds? Serious limitations there, too. No hands." He slid his under my shirt. "No fingers." His tickled my sides and brushed my breasts. "No lips." He lowered his to my neck.
"Limiting."
"Very."
His mouth moved to mine, kissing me hard.
"Maybe this time we should complete our escape first?" I murmured.
A low growl, not exactly disagreement, just annoyance that I'd brought it up. I glanced over his shoulder at the truck.
"A big metal box with a folding backseat should be safe enough, don't you think?"
He peered at the truck, as if measuring the distance. Then he scooped me up and carried me to it.
 
BACK AT THE hotel, the first thing I did was call Joey's office. He wouldn't be in, of course, but that was the point-I could leave a complete message without him hanging up on me.
Couching it in suitably cryptic terms-in case his voice mail was monitored-I let him know that we'd figured out what was going on. The mutts had taken Noah and now they were holding him hostage, demanding something from Joey for his release. Joey was dealing with that and proceeding with extreme caution… meaning he didn't want two Pack enforcers in town, throwing their weight around and endangering his half brother's life.
Now that we understood the situation, I assured him we'd proceed with equally extreme caution and that we could help resolve the situation. I didn't expect him to take us up on the offer. What I was really saying, as politely as possible was, "we know why you want us to leave town, and we aren't going."
Next we tended to our injuries. Neither of us had any broken bones, and that was all that mattered. Being a werewolf meant a lifetime of fighting, and like those who spend their life in the boxing ring, we've learned to ignore the bumps and bruises and cuts. Check for broken bones, clean the cuts, get some rest and we'd be good to go tomorrow. We had to be-unlike professional boxers, we couldn't call off a match because we weren't up to it. Werewolf healing helped with that. Twenty-four hours later, the only remaining signs of my encounter with the beast were a tender spot on the back of my head and one on my ribs.