Midnight Wolf Page 3

  Wolf-boy had his hands full with the humans, who were slowing him down. They weren’t fighting him but flailing around in panic, one yelling to grab their gun, the other two smacking into each other trying to figure out how.

  Tamsin grinned as the wolf’s snarl turned into one of frustration.

  She put on a burst of speed straight up the road, no more dodging through unfamiliar swampy woods. She’d stick to the pavement and find her motorcycle—then wolf-dog wouldn’t be able to catch her.

  She heard the pickup start, its engine roaring. A few moments later, the truck’s lights struck her, the pickup heading straight for her.

  Tamsin jumped into the ditch, swearing when she landed in muddy water up to her knees. The guys in the truck didn’t look her way, probably hadn’t even seen her in their panic.

  Tamsin struggled out of the ditch and ran after them, sprinting for all she was worth. She could leap into the truck bed and get away from the wolf, then drop out again near her bike. The least these guys could do for trying to capture and rape her.

  The truck sped up, its tailgate skimming out of her reach. “Assholes!” Tamsin yelled at them. “You’d leave a helpless woman out here with a big bad wolf?”

  Apparently they would. The truck kept accelerating, throwing mud from its tires, screeching away until it turned and was lost in the darkness.

  “Total scum-bucket gobshites!” Tamsin declared to the night. At least she’d relieved them of their money during the game. Fair and square—she didn’t cheat. They were just bad players.

  Tamsin slid on her jacket as she ran, keeping to the side of the road, her breath coming fast. She heard nothing behind her but the faint creak of wind in the trees and the whisper of whatever critters inhabited these woods. No sound of the wolf.

  Tamsin knew better than to turn around and check whether he was following. He would be. Lupine trackers didn’t give up. She needed to keep running, make it to her motorcycle, and put as much distance between the two of them as she could.

  Her only warning was a huff of hot breath on her back. Since she’d more or less expected it, Tamsin didn’t stumble or let surprise slow her. Her Shifter senses of smell and sight might not be as good in her human form, but her cunning wasn’t blunted. There was a reason her kind hadn’t been rounded up when Shifters were outed long ago.

  Tamsin dodged left, then as the wolf leapt at her, ready to take her down to the sludgy ditch, she dodged right, back to the road’s pavement. The black wolf, intent on the takedown, couldn’t stop his momentum. He plowed into the ditch with a giant splash.

  His savage growl of rage would make a sane person’s blood run cold. Tamsin laughed out loud.

  “That’s what you get for working for Shifter Bureau!” she yelled.

  Meanwhile, she was hauling ass out of there. Extracting himself from the mud wouldn’t stop the Lupine, but it would slow him down and give Tamsin her chance.

  She put her head down and pumped her arms and legs, faster, faster. She’d rest when she was safe.

  She’d parked her motorcycle around the next bend, close enough to the plantation house to reach quickly in case she needed to get away, far enough for it to not be found and associated with her. Tamsin’s breath hitched in her side, but she kept going.

  There was her bike, tucked into the shadows near a gas station, closed now for the night. Two vehicles sat in the parking lot, a rusting SUV that had been there when she’d arrived, and a station wagon from years gone by.

  Tamsin gave both cars a passing glance, saw that no one sat in or near them, and raced past them to her motorcycle.

  With a rush of wind and hot fur, the wolf landed on Tamsin and sent her sprawling.

  She struggled to regain her feet, but the Lupine rolled her onto her back and pinned her with one great paw. Tamsin fought and kicked, desperation giving her strength.

  The wolf was strong. His fur was completely black, a cloud of darkness under the one light by the gas station. His eyes were gray and filled with as much fury as determination. The look told her he wouldn’t give up until she was completely under his control.

  Tamsin continued to struggle, though she was tired from all the running and the fight with the human men. Her advantage though was that Wolfie was Collared. The more violent he became, the more his Collar would hurt him.

  There—the Collar burst into sparks, a blue arc racing around the wolf-man’s neck. He snarled and shook, but he didn’t let Tamsin go. Gritted his teeth, took the pain.

  Shit, the Bureau must truly have him under their thumb. They’d known the only way to catch Tamsin was to send out someone more afraid of them than she was. Goddess, she hated those people.

  The wolf was on top of her, his weight pressing her into the damp ground, rocks beneath her jabbing into her back. His claws, very large, held her shoulders, though he didn’t dig in. What a sweetie.

  His face came close to hers, his eyes red-tinted with anger, his very white teeth big and too near. Sparks from his Collar rained onto Tamsin’s skin, stinging and biting.

  “Nice wolfie.” She squirmed, but he held her fast. “Let’s talk about this.”

  The wolf shuddered, then shivered, and with a growl and a groan, morphed into a large, hard-muscled, very naked, black-haired man.

  The eyes remained the same—wolf gray, focused intently on her,

  “Nothing to talk about.” His voice was guttural, the wolf still strong in him. “I’m bringing you in.”

  “The hell you are!” Tamsin jabbed her knee straight at his bare groin.

  Wolf-man deflected the blow with the ease of a professional and grabbed Tamsin’s wrists in a hard grip. “Quit or I’ll tranq you.”

  Tamsin ceased struggling, but not because she surrendered. “Shifter Bureau scum.”

  “I do not work for fucking Shifter Bureau.” Pure rage flashed in the man’s eyes, making her believe him.

  “Then why are you hunting me?”

  He didn’t answer. The man was strong, athletic, and would be good-looking if he wasn’t covered with mud and glaring like a fiend.

  Next tactic. Tamsin let her eyes go wide and her lower lip tremble. “Please. You can’t take me to them. You can’t.”

  She saw the plea reach him, saw the anger deepen. Not at her—at Shifter Bureau for making him do this.

  Whatever they’d threatened him with must be worse than whatever he thought they’d do to her, because his eyes went hard again. “Sorry, sweetheart. Be nice, and I won’t have to chain you up.”

  He was much bigger than she was, and seriously strong. He had himself and Tamsin up before she realized it, his grip like manacles on her wrists. He turned her around, his muscular body pressing into her back, and started to march her toward the vehicles in the gas station’s lot.

  Only one thing to do. Tamsin held her breath . . . and shifted.

  The process was smooth and quick. Not all Shifters changed with ease, but Tamsin always could. Must have something to do with small bones.

  She dropped, feeling her clothes flow away from her. No ripping—she shrank down to her animal instead of grew, which gave her a slight advantage. While other Shifters waited for her to rise into some sort of giant beast, she was zipping off between their legs.

  As she did now. Tamsin resisted reaching up to give the wolf-man’s bare thigh a chomp as she hurtled out from under him and raced for the woods. Her clothes fluttered in the breeze she left as she dashed under the trees, becoming one with the night.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Son of a bitch.

  Angus swung around to see something streak into the woods, churning wet leaves in its wake.

  Whatever the hell kind of animal Tamsin was, she was tricky, and fast. Some kind of cat, maybe—perhaps a serval, like his friend Reg.

  Hadn’t smelled like Feline, though. Angus had no clue what she was
. Fucking fantastic.

  She’d left her clothes. Angus went down on one knee to look through them—tank top with spaghetti straps, bra, jeans, underwear, boots and socks, a jacket. The jeans held a wad of cash in the pockets, winnings from tonight’s game. A key with a Harley key fob, which probably went to the motorcycle parked out of sight, but not out of scent range. Another key looked like it went to a room in a small motel—it was a real, metal key, not a key card. No label to say which motel though.

  That was it. No wallet, no ID, no cell phone, just cash and keys. Nothing to say who Tamsin Calloway was, or what she was.

  A killer? Her actions screamed of guilt. Fleeing out the window, ready to risk the men who’d been beating on her to get herself away from Angus.

  Angus gathered up her things, unfolded to his feet, and carried them to the car. He had a change of clothing for himself in the station wagon, but he didn’t bother to dress. The clothes he’d arrived in were back at the plantation house, where he’d shucked them to chase Tamsin. He knew Reg would take care of them for him.

  One useful thing Tamsin had left behind was her scent. Angus held her shirt to his nose and took a good whiff, letting the tendrils of smells seep into his wolf brain. Nutmeg came to him again, along with her fear and the need to flee.

  Angus laid the shirt on top of the pile of her clothes, closed the station wagon door, morphed into his wolf, and started off on her trail.

  * * *

  • • •

  The Shifter woman led Angus on a merry chase. Through the woods, across streams, down into swampy ground. She kept heading south, deeper into the bayous, the land of alligators and too much water. Wolves liked drier land—at least this wolf did.

  Angus’s rage kept him going. He would grab this woman, drag her back to his joke of a car, tranq her, dump her at Haider’s feet, take Ciaran, and go home. Any twinge of remorse about giving her to Shifter Bureau had died when she’d tried to kick him in the crotch and called him Shifter Bureau scum. Which he was.

  But damn it, if they touched Ciaran . . .

  All of him wanted to be with Ciaran, the small black wolf who gamboled around in his cub form and made fun of his dad. Angus needed to hold his son, feel his warm body next to his heart, make sure Ciaran was all right. He felt bad for Tamsin—she’d looked truly afraid—but his son would win this battle.

  Her scent led him onward. Angus had smelled nothing like her before, and he’d had to put up with the stench of a lot of Shifters. In the club, the sweaty smell of a hundred Shifters dancing and prowling mingled with the pheromones they let loose as they chose partners for the night—enough to make Angus wish for a bad cold.

  He’d smelled every sort of Feline, Lupine, and Bear, but never anything like Tamsin. What was she? Though Reg was a rare type of Shifter cat, he smelled like Feline no matter what form he took.

  Angus would finish this, tell Haider to stuff himself, and go home. That is, if he didn’t split Haider and his minions in half for touching his son.

  His agitation made his Collar start sparking. Angus forced his emotions down, making himself focus on the mission. He was a good tracker, one of the best, or used to be considered so. Gavan’s ill-fated rebellion had taken Angus from being trusted second to ordinary guy looking for a job in ten seconds flat.

  The scent grew stronger, which meant Angus was catching up. He allowed himself a wolf grin. The swamp was slowing Tamsin down as much as it was Angus, which meant she wasn’t an egret Shifter. Or a duck Shifter.

  The trail crossed and recrossed itself. Tamsin had doubled back several times, had run straight down the middle of a stream and come out farther down the bank, had even retaken her own trail. A wolf with a lesser nose would have lost her. She was good.

  Was that why Shifter Bureau wanted her? To teach them her evasive maneuvers?

  And why did Angus care? If she’d been part of his brother’s group and fled while Gavan got himself and the other Shifters killed, he’d happily hand her over and go out for pizza. With Ciaran.

  Angus put on a burst of speed. He heard a splash, almost turned to track it, then kept on his original course. He wouldn’t put it past her to toss something into the water to distract him. Angus calculated the trajectory of the splash in relation to the path he’d already been following, and focused on the point where she must be.

  Then he heard a scream. Not a woman’s scream, but the cry of an animal in terror.

  Angus sprinted toward the noise. The animal had not been a bird or one of the many small creatures that lived out here. Something not from this swamp had gotten herself into trouble and was shrieking in pain and fear.

  Angus plowed through standing water, his wolf’s vision assisted by moonlight glowing on the mist.

  Gator. Angus halted several yards from an alligator that had to be seven feet long. The end of its mouth was clamped over a struggling ball of fur.

  As a wolf Shifter on the large side, Angus wasn’t afraid of much in the animal world, but he’d developed a healthy respect for gators. They didn’t care if an animal was Shifter or wild or someone’s pet—they just ate it. Driven by hunger and a small reptilian brain, they acted on instinct alone, and it was best to stay the hell out of their way.

  Angus took in the situation with lightning speed and leapt toward the gator. As he barreled past it, he grabbed the red ball of fur by the scruff and yanked it from the gator’s mouth.

  Tamsin’s animal shrieked in pain and fear, blood spraying everywhere, but Angus didn’t stop. Alligators could move fast, and this one would home in on their trail of blood. Angus had to get her out of here and into a moving vehicle as fast as he could.

  He kept running, his mouth full of fur, but that didn’t slow him down. He’d carried Ciaran to safety often enough—a male wolf cub could get himself into so much trouble.

  Tamsin wasn’t much heavier than Ciaran. Angus hadn’t gotten a good look at her animal, but it was small with wiry fur. Cublike in size, but Tamsin was no cub. She was a fully grown female Shifter past her Transition, and dangerous. No doubt about that.

  Angus sprinted through puddles and streams, making his way northward to drier land and his borrowed car. He went as fast as he dared, hearing the gator crash along behind him, and prayed to the Goddess he didn’t stumble into another gator along their path. The thing Angus hated about living in the New Orleans area Shiftertown, besides the humidity and hurricanes, was the wildlife that could best a Shifter.

  After a time, Angus no longer heard the creature behind them. He could no longer smell it either, which he hoped meant it had grown bored and given up, slinking off to find slower prey.

  Angus, sides heaving, slowed and then stopped, dropping Tamsin to the ground.

  She unrolled from the ball she’d been in, her right foreleg soaked in blood, pain in her light-colored eyes. Her left foreleg, unhurt, was soot black. Angus looked down into a terrified face covered with fur as red as her human hair. The lower part of her nose and throat, by contrast, was white.

  Two furry ears stuck up from her head, which was a little lighter than the rest of her coat. That coat was rust-colored all over, except for the darker patches of red around her eyes and the pure white of her underside. All this red and white culminated in a multicolored tail that was almost as long as she was.

  Angus gazed down at her in disbelief. Shifters like this didn’t exist. The Fae had made wolves, cats, and bears, and that was it.

  Angus shifted to human, painfully in his exhaustion, and continued to stare at Tamsin as he crouched on hands and knees. She was hurt, bleeding, not running anywhere soon on that leg.

  He drew a strangled breath. “You’re a fox!”

  Tamsin morphed to human woman so fast Angus scrambled a few inches backward. He’d never seen anyone shift so easily in his life.

  “Thanks. You’re a sweetie,” the red-haired woman said. She held u
p her mangled and bloody hand, and regarded it sadly. “Got anything for a gator bite?”

  * * *

  • • •

  “You are damned lucky,” Angus reminded her for the hundredth time.

  “Yes, yes, yes.” Tamsin gritted her teeth on pain as she hobbled alongside the wolf-man, who supported her with a very strong grip. That grip wasn’t letting her get away, but right now, she was too shaky and sick to run anywhere. “I know. The big bad wolf saved my life.”

  “I mean that the alligator didn’t bite down like he could have. Prying their mouths open can be impossible. He’d grabbed what was moving past and hadn’t made up his mind whether to eat it or not.”

  “Thank you, yeah, I got it.” Her hand and arm were a mess—Tamsin needed a healer, but where the hell were they going to find one out here?

  She’d never been attacked like that before, by a silent predator in the dark. One moment she’d been running gleefully along, the next, trapped by teeth and strength, watery panic rushing through her.

  She wouldn’t tell Wolfie how relieved she’d been to see him.

  Any minute now, she’d lose her Shifter indifference to nakedness and realize she was walking in the embrace of a very well-made man. He was tall like most Shifters, solid with muscle that didn’t take away his grace. His hair was black, like that of his wolf, and his gray eyes remained the same color in both forms. His arms bore tattoos, flowing vines on one arm and geometric squares that looked 3-D on the other. He had plenty of stamina, marching Tamsin along without breaking a sweat, and this after chasing her for half an hour and then rescuing her from a gator.

  Tamsin was a fugitive, but she was also a Shifter female in her mating prime. Her instinct was checking him out even as her reason told her to flee him as soon as she was able.

  Hormones were hell. They triggered a picture of herself under him, his arms tight as he braced himself, his gray eyes full of fire as he looked down at her. She’d trace the muscles of his back while she arched up to him, begging for him with her body, while he opened her to hot joy . . .