Book 1 - Page 3 (1/2)

Stretching again, her lean body began to take the form of the wolf. The painless transformation always occurred quickly and filled her with a sense of urgency — to hunt, to run wild among the other creatures of the forest.

A thick cinnamon-red pelt covered her skin as her nose elongated into a snout, and her teeth grew ready for the hunt. She straightened her back, howled with the change, then dropped to her paws. Her nails extended into sharp claws, itching to dig into the pine needle-cus.h.i.+oned earth.

Though she preferred venison to rabbit, she hunted the latter. Killing deer out of season const.i.tuted a crime. If anyone found the leftovers of such a kill, an investigation would follow. Soon word would spread that a wolf was killing deer in the area. A wolf that might next go after ranchers’ sheep or cattle, or household pets, or children. A wolf thought to be extinct in these parts.

Leaping off the porch, her long legs carried her with graceful bounds through the wilderness. She traveled through several hundreds of acres before spying another cabin — quiet, vacated. Since it was winter and no longer hunting season, except for the end of dusky Canadian goose season, she shouldn’t glimpse another human being.

She thought she caught a whiff of something familiar. Pausing, she sniffed the air, and recognized the distinctive smell of lupus garou — red lupus garou.

Loping toward the origin of the scent, she darted past pines and firs, ducked beneath low-hanging branches, jumped a moss-covered log in her path... then halted.

A patch of red fur clung to the bark of an oak. Definitely red wolf; and because none existed here, it had to be a red lupus garou‘s.

She contemplated returning to her human form and taking the evidence back to her cabin, but she was miles from there, and as cold as it was, her human counterpart probably wouldn’t make it.

The breeze s.h.i.+fted. She smelled the red’s scent stronger now. He’d just urinated somewhere nearby, marking his territory. She hesitated. If he were looking for a mate, she’d be a prime target; and if he were an alpha male, she wouldn’t be strong enough to fight him if he decided to force a mating.

Leaves rustled. A twig snapped underfoot a short distance away. A chill raced all the way down her spine to the tip of her taut tail. An eerie feeling she was being watched froze her in place.

What if he was the killer? What if he was hunting her now? But what if she could lure him into the open, play his game, and turn him over to whatever pack happened to live in the area? Even if he were a loner, the pack in the territory would condemn him to die. Killing humans put every lupus garou at risk. Keeping their secret hidden was the only way for them to survive.

Then again, he might just be a pack member hunting for fresh meat — enjoying the freedom of the change like she was — who had come across her, a loner lupus garou violating the pack’s territory. Unless... unless their reds had a shortage of females like the Colorado grays did, and...

d.a.m.n, why hadn’t she considered that before now?

She stared into the shadowy woods where bugs cricketed in a raucous chorus and a breeze ruffled the pine needles in a whispered hush. If there was a severe shortage of female lupus garou, was the killer trying to turn a human female in the ancient way? To make her his mate?

Not good.

She dashed to where he’d left his mark. No sign of him. But the urine was fresh. Too fresh. He had to be close by, but if he were stalking her he couldn’t be an alpha male. An alpha male would have already approached her and let her know he wanted her, if he needed a mate. He had to smell how ripe she was and know she was ready, too. Was that why he went after female humans, because they were easier to take than a lupus garou? Maybe he was afraid to advance on a loner who was more feral, warier, more unpredictable.

She caught the scent of another. Also male. Except for twitching her ears back and forth and withdrawing her panting tongue, she listened and sniffed the air but stood in place.

She smelled — water.

Swallowing, she felt parched, and loped toward the sound of Wolf Creek, the water bubbling nearby. At the fringe of the forest she hesitated, not liking the way the stream’s banks were so exposed. For several minutes she stood watching, listening for signs of danger — human danger.

Nothing.

The water beckoned to her. She swallowed again, stared at the rush of the stream, then walked cautiously across the pebble bank.

Unable to shake the feeling that someone watched her, she waited like a rabbit cornered by a wolf, cemented in place.

Ice-cold water from melting snow off the mountains dove over rounded rock. She dipped her tongue into the water and lapped it up; the liquid cooled and soothed her dry throat.

She couldn’t help wis.h.i.+ng she were back in Colorado, running with Devlyn like they’d done when they were younger — chasing through the woods, nipping at each other’s hindquarters, feeling the wind ruffle their fur. G.o.d, how she wished he’d mated with her.

Water trickled and gurgled at her feet, birds chirped overhead, and sugar-drained oak leaves rustled in the breeze all around her. But then a flash of red fur caught her attention, and she turned.