want to be an Alpha, Jenner thought as he headed out the door. He couldn’t stand to have all those voices yammering away in his head all the time. He liked Bane, though he was an ornery bastard…hell, probably because of it…but running herd on all the Blackpaw in the area was a deeply unappealing thought. For one thing, it meant having to talk to people. A lot of people. And often.
Being what basically amounted to captain of the guard could be a pain, but Jenner would take the hunt-and-chase any day over all of that talking. His opinion was often asked for, and given, in private, but he much preferred being the silent half of the pack’s leadership in public. Diplomacy had never been his strong suit. Fighting, on the other hand…well, it turned out he had quite a knack for that. And being a werewolf meant having some interesting things to fight on a regular basis, if you wanted your pack to continue to exist.
His father, pampered and entitled, would be horrified if he knew the full truth of it. Actually, he was horrified enough at the little he did know about his oldest son’s life. The thought made Jenner smile.
On my way, he thought, giving it the little mental push he’d learned quickly after his own life-changing bite years before. Instantly, he felt a flash of Dex’s relief, and sighed irritably. If Dex was twisted up about it, it couldn’t be good.
Goddamn biters. It had been quite a while since the last one, which was good considering all the other crap he had to deal with out in the woods. There had been a lot more activity lately, a bad sign, though the shadows had started up and then quieted down just as everyone got really jumpy many times before. But Jenner knew his luck couldn’t hold forever. He just hoped that the woods were clear of any other annoyances tonight. Last night’s hunt should have cleared those blood-sucking shadows out for a day or two, at least.
Jenner paused just outside the door of Rowdy’s, the small, ramshackle bar that was a pack favorite on weekends. He inhaled deeply, his sensitive nose painting him a mental picture of everything going on in the area. The air, faintly damp and with a snap of chill that was typical for a late September night in Northern Pennsylvania, was full of the scents that had become familiar, even comforting, since he’d come here ten years before. Maple and pine, earth and early fall air. Human and wolf, each with their own distinct musk.
And best of all, not a hint of brimstone.
Ferry’s Hollow had come to smell like home. Jenner had no problem doing what needed to be done to keep that home safe.
He pushed another thought at Dex. What’s the status on the biter? Roaming stray from another pack, do you think?
Dex’s response was rapid-fire. Biter’s missing. We’re looking for him now. He wasn’t a Silverback, that’s for sure, Dex continued, referring to the nearest pack over a hundred miles to the North. Didn’t like the smell of him. Or the look, once we got that close. Hate to say it, but I’m thinking feral.
Jenner frowned, loping quickly down the street toward the place where the open land dissolved into forest. The Hollow was nestled deep in the woods, surrounded on all sides by it. The humans who lived alongside the werewolves here, by and large in blissful ignorance of all things supernatural, had no idea that the town’s being a veritable island in the forest was by design.
What about the bitten?
There was a pause. Then: We’ve got her. She lost a lot of blood, but she’s already starting to heal. She was only out for a couple of minutes, seems pretty with it since she came to. Other than that, she’s in shock and confused. About what you’d expect. Pretty little thing.
Jenner snorted to himself. It didn’t matter to him if this woman was the second coming of Angelina Jolie. Nothing good ever came from a feral bite.
Are they linked, then? he thought, and Dex’s immediate blast of anger was an answer in itself.
He didn’t seal the deal, lucky for her. And when we find him, I’m going to rip his throat out myself. The moon is too close to full to be pulling this crap. We need her connection to him while it lasts, but you know damn well somebody’s going to have to make her part of the pack before long. We’ve got less than a week, Jenner. Not much time. For her, either…
Dex’s voice trailed off in Jenner’s mind, but it didn’t matter. Jenner already knew what he meant. It could take some time to smoke out a clever feral who’d decided to take to the woods, which covered hundreds of square miles. But the unwitting victim was going to have to be brought into the pack before the moon rose full. Otherwise, they’d have two ferals on their hands.
The tenuous connection forged between biter and bitten was always a good way, sometimes the only way, to find a jerk like this. But the clock was ticking. Once his victim started to turn, that temporary mental link to her attacker would vanish right along with her sanity. Unless this feral got his paws on her again, of course, to make things between them permanent. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not on Blackpaw territory. And not on his watch.
How strong’s her bond to him? he asked, hoping for the quick resolution that there was no way, in his experience, he was going to get.
Hoping you can find that out. She’s been a little skittish with me. Weird thing is, she hasn’t asked for a doctor, cops, nothing. It’s almost like she knows…but I guess it could be the shock.
Has she said anything to make you think that? Jenner asked, beginning to frown. If this woman knew who and what they were, it meant the feral had a big mouth. That made it even more imperative to find the asshole. Loose lips could do in a wolf pack just as easily as a gang of well-armed were-hunters. Dex’s reply was small comfort.
No. That’s the thing. She’s not saying anything, just watching with those big eyes. I dunno, Jenner, this isn’t my thing! I’ve never had to deal with one of these before!
It was a sad day when he got asked to play mediator, Jenner thought.
I hear you. Headed in.
A loose biter, and a potential feral. And it was only ten. Jenner gritted his teeth and headed into the trees.
Mia D’Alessandro sat with her back against the rough bark of a tree, pressing a wadded-up ball of fabric that had once been a shirt against the open wounds between her shoulder and her neck. An odd sense of calm had settled over her, one that she was sure, in the detached way she seemed to be thinking right now, was a pretty good indicator of shock. After all, how else could she be sitting here, calmly and quietly, when half her shirt was shredded and covered in her own blood? At least there was no pain. Not anymore. And the bleeding, oddly enough, seemed to have stopped…but maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part.
At least my blood isn’t glowing anymore, she thought, but shut that down quickly. These men didn’t seem to have any idea what she was, so as far as she was concerned, she would be playing the normal, traumatized human woman until they let her go. If they let her go. She knew so little about these things, these other creatures.
Silently, and for the millionth time, she cursed the woman who had raised her so indifferently, family or no. Her life had been about hiding, about suppressing the truth until she had hardly believed it herself. And then Ada had simply been gone.
Five men milled around her in the moonlit clearing, eerily silent, though the meaningful looks they were giving one another made her wonder exactly what she was missing. One of the men had been kind enough to give her his shirt to stanch the blood, at least.
