Bowman had his gaze on her, the hard Shifter stare that made the instincts win over the mate’s worry. At least this time.
Kenzie also knew that Bowman wanted her gone so that she could look after the others—Shifters and humans alike—while he figured out what this menace was and how to deal with it.
She glanced at herself. “I can’t go in there,” she whispered, even in the face of his gray white stare. “You tore up my shirt. They have a policy.” She fought the hysterical laugh that came up with the words.
In a swift and economical move, Bowman swept his T-shirt from the ground and thrust it into her hands. The cloth still held his heat, and his scent.
Kenzie took the shirt and backed slowly away from him. She didn’t run—whatever was in the woods sounded in the mood for a chase.
She made it to the edge of the parking lot, the men and women there having already gotten into vehicles and gone. Tears stung her eyes as she pulled on the black T-shirt that still held Bowman’s heat. Once under the glare of the lot’s lights, she could no longer see her mate.
This was wrong. All wrong. She had to go back to him, to fight with him. Kenzie couldn’t stand by while he stayed to face the danger alone, perhaps to be killed.
Another human couple came out of the roadhouse, the man and woman wrapped around each other, laughing. There was no doubt what they were leaving the bar to do. The noise from the open door spilled out behind them.
A rumbling growl came from the woods and rolled over the ground, sweeping all other sound away with it.
The couple stopped. “Shit,” the guy said. “What the hell was that?”
Kenzie’s indecision fled, the alpha female in her taking over. “Get back inside,” she snapped in her best commanding voice. “Now.”
The man and woman looked startled, but obeyed her, their eyes wide with fear.
Kenzie took one last look at the darkness beyond the parking lot, scenting both Bowman and something overwhelming behind him. Heart racing and aching, she herded the humans into the bar and shut the door on them, then turned back to Bowman.
She still couldn’t see him, but she heard his snarl. “Kenzie, inside.”
It was the command of a leader. She needed to help his trackers be his backup, to keep the civilians protected. Bowman knew she’d handle it all better than anybody.
“Do it.”
He was no longer trying to be quiet—no point. Kenzie forced herself to stop being sentimental and think like a warrior. She silently offered up a prayer to the Goddess, yanked open the door, and ran into the roadhouse, calling for Cade.
CHAPTER THREE
Bowman knew exactly when Kenzie closed the door to the roadhouse. Her scent cut off, as did the sound of her voice, and the presence of her. Bowman always knew when Kenzie was near.
He’d known when he’d dragged the fake groupie out to the parking lot that Kenzie had followed. He’d pulled the stunt of yanking down his jeans because he’d been aware of Kenzie watching from the shadows. He’d wanted to scare the woman in the stupid Lupine ears and tail, but he’d also wanted to challenge Kenzie. He always did. His mate could bring out the worst in him.
But his challenge had backfired, because Bowman’s mating frenzy had shot high. His hard-on had been for Kenzie alone. The only way to relieve the frenzy had been to get rid of the fake groupie woman and run into the woods with Kenzie to scratch that itch.
Thank the Goddess for this unknown foe. Best distraction he could hope for.
Which left the question—what was it?
Bowman slid off his boots and shucked his jeans and underwear. Naked in his socks, he gazed into the woods, his Shifter sight trying to penetrate the blackness under the trees.
Nothing. No shadows moving, no eyes. Just the soft snarling of an animal not afraid of the lone Shifter waiting at the edge of the woods.
Bowman got rid of the socks and let his wolf come. He could shift quickly, though not painlessly, but his tension was so high tonight he barely noticed the ache as his bones changed form.
The edges of objects curved as his eyes became wolf, colors growing muted but at the same time lighter and more precise. Shifters didn’t necessarily see better than humans, just differently. They could discern things outside the range of human sight, and scent added another layer.
Whatever was out there stank like a sewer. Bad scent could be used to confuse trackers or disgust them so much they abandoned the prey. Or maybe this thing had simply been spawned in a cesspit.
Bowman had no desire to put his nose down and follow its trail, but he had to know what he was dealing with. Was it seriously dangerous? Or just smelly?
The snarl built up into a roar, and something huge charged Bowman. At least, at the place where Bowman had been. He was gone by the time the thing came barreling out of the trees, then he cut back sharply into the woods to draw it away from the roadhouse.
He needed backup, and lots of it. Kenzie would be organizing that, he knew, letting him get on with the fight. She knew her job. His heart warmed at the thought.
The thing swung around, following Bowman unerringly between the trees. The growls increased, and underbrush snapped and broke as it came.
One of the giant trees behind Bowman started to fall toward him. He couldn’t see it clearly in the dark, but he heard the breaking branches and pop of roots, smelled the explosion of sap and resin as a pine tree that had stood strong for hundreds of years now rushed at the ground.
Bowman sprang out of the way, and the woods shuddered as the tree came down, tangling in its brothers on the way. The tree never made it to the forest floor, but came to a rocking halt above Bowman, trapped in a cradle of close-growing branches.
Not Bowman’s worry right now. His worry was the enormous thing that had pushed the tree aside to get to him.
The animal’s stink canceled out the rest of the forest smells, and its shadow cut off all light. Bowman looked up into darkness that contained a flash of red eyes, the glint of giant teeth, and claws that would frighten a feral bear.
He flung himself out of the way of its plunging fist, his wolf moving fast, but not fast enough. One huge clawed hand caught Bowman’s hindquarters as he leapt away.
Pain jolted through him—ripped flesh, snapped bone. Bowman’s Collar went off, activating the shock implant that theoretically kept Shifters from violence. Bowman tried to ignore it as he let his momentum carry him away from the creature, but the Collar beat pain into his spine. He stumbled toward the edge of the woods, emerging after an agonizingly long time from under the trees into the roadhouse’s parking lot.
Kenzie also knew that Bowman wanted her gone so that she could look after the others—Shifters and humans alike—while he figured out what this menace was and how to deal with it.
She glanced at herself. “I can’t go in there,” she whispered, even in the face of his gray white stare. “You tore up my shirt. They have a policy.” She fought the hysterical laugh that came up with the words.
In a swift and economical move, Bowman swept his T-shirt from the ground and thrust it into her hands. The cloth still held his heat, and his scent.
Kenzie took the shirt and backed slowly away from him. She didn’t run—whatever was in the woods sounded in the mood for a chase.
She made it to the edge of the parking lot, the men and women there having already gotten into vehicles and gone. Tears stung her eyes as she pulled on the black T-shirt that still held Bowman’s heat. Once under the glare of the lot’s lights, she could no longer see her mate.
This was wrong. All wrong. She had to go back to him, to fight with him. Kenzie couldn’t stand by while he stayed to face the danger alone, perhaps to be killed.
Another human couple came out of the roadhouse, the man and woman wrapped around each other, laughing. There was no doubt what they were leaving the bar to do. The noise from the open door spilled out behind them.
A rumbling growl came from the woods and rolled over the ground, sweeping all other sound away with it.
The couple stopped. “Shit,” the guy said. “What the hell was that?”
Kenzie’s indecision fled, the alpha female in her taking over. “Get back inside,” she snapped in her best commanding voice. “Now.”
The man and woman looked startled, but obeyed her, their eyes wide with fear.
Kenzie took one last look at the darkness beyond the parking lot, scenting both Bowman and something overwhelming behind him. Heart racing and aching, she herded the humans into the bar and shut the door on them, then turned back to Bowman.
She still couldn’t see him, but she heard his snarl. “Kenzie, inside.”
It was the command of a leader. She needed to help his trackers be his backup, to keep the civilians protected. Bowman knew she’d handle it all better than anybody.
“Do it.”
He was no longer trying to be quiet—no point. Kenzie forced herself to stop being sentimental and think like a warrior. She silently offered up a prayer to the Goddess, yanked open the door, and ran into the roadhouse, calling for Cade.
CHAPTER THREE
Bowman knew exactly when Kenzie closed the door to the roadhouse. Her scent cut off, as did the sound of her voice, and the presence of her. Bowman always knew when Kenzie was near.
He’d known when he’d dragged the fake groupie out to the parking lot that Kenzie had followed. He’d pulled the stunt of yanking down his jeans because he’d been aware of Kenzie watching from the shadows. He’d wanted to scare the woman in the stupid Lupine ears and tail, but he’d also wanted to challenge Kenzie. He always did. His mate could bring out the worst in him.
But his challenge had backfired, because Bowman’s mating frenzy had shot high. His hard-on had been for Kenzie alone. The only way to relieve the frenzy had been to get rid of the fake groupie woman and run into the woods with Kenzie to scratch that itch.
Thank the Goddess for this unknown foe. Best distraction he could hope for.
Which left the question—what was it?
Bowman slid off his boots and shucked his jeans and underwear. Naked in his socks, he gazed into the woods, his Shifter sight trying to penetrate the blackness under the trees.
Nothing. No shadows moving, no eyes. Just the soft snarling of an animal not afraid of the lone Shifter waiting at the edge of the woods.
Bowman got rid of the socks and let his wolf come. He could shift quickly, though not painlessly, but his tension was so high tonight he barely noticed the ache as his bones changed form.
The edges of objects curved as his eyes became wolf, colors growing muted but at the same time lighter and more precise. Shifters didn’t necessarily see better than humans, just differently. They could discern things outside the range of human sight, and scent added another layer.
Whatever was out there stank like a sewer. Bad scent could be used to confuse trackers or disgust them so much they abandoned the prey. Or maybe this thing had simply been spawned in a cesspit.
Bowman had no desire to put his nose down and follow its trail, but he had to know what he was dealing with. Was it seriously dangerous? Or just smelly?
The snarl built up into a roar, and something huge charged Bowman. At least, at the place where Bowman had been. He was gone by the time the thing came barreling out of the trees, then he cut back sharply into the woods to draw it away from the roadhouse.
He needed backup, and lots of it. Kenzie would be organizing that, he knew, letting him get on with the fight. She knew her job. His heart warmed at the thought.
The thing swung around, following Bowman unerringly between the trees. The growls increased, and underbrush snapped and broke as it came.
One of the giant trees behind Bowman started to fall toward him. He couldn’t see it clearly in the dark, but he heard the breaking branches and pop of roots, smelled the explosion of sap and resin as a pine tree that had stood strong for hundreds of years now rushed at the ground.
Bowman sprang out of the way, and the woods shuddered as the tree came down, tangling in its brothers on the way. The tree never made it to the forest floor, but came to a rocking halt above Bowman, trapped in a cradle of close-growing branches.
Not Bowman’s worry right now. His worry was the enormous thing that had pushed the tree aside to get to him.
The animal’s stink canceled out the rest of the forest smells, and its shadow cut off all light. Bowman looked up into darkness that contained a flash of red eyes, the glint of giant teeth, and claws that would frighten a feral bear.
He flung himself out of the way of its plunging fist, his wolf moving fast, but not fast enough. One huge clawed hand caught Bowman’s hindquarters as he leapt away.
Pain jolted through him—ripped flesh, snapped bone. Bowman’s Collar went off, activating the shock implant that theoretically kept Shifters from violence. Bowman tried to ignore it as he let his momentum carry him away from the creature, but the Collar beat pain into his spine. He stumbled toward the edge of the woods, emerging after an agonizingly long time from under the trees into the roadhouse’s parking lot.
