Unlike some Wyverns, Coveney hadn’t spent a lot of time outside of his pride territory. Others had freelance jobs online, or friends they wanted to see somewhere in the world. Some of them had even lived in the regular human world for a time; Tracy, for example, used to have book signings. Rye, Daunte, and Ian, who dabbled in venture capitalism, put on a suit and went to some meetings every now and then.

Coveney took the role of Head Enforcer when the pride was created nine years ago, and he’d never left his post since. He didn’t take holidays. For some reason, Rye still insisted on counting the time off he was owed; he had over two years, last time he’d looked. He’d probably never use any of it. He was mildly curious about some places in the world. Okay, more than curious. Exotic locations fascinated him, hence why he secretly watched the Travel Channel whenever no one was around. But he owed the Wyvern, and the least he could do was protect them.

Leaving the pride for four hours this evening was quite possibly the closest thing he’d ever done to taking some time off, and even that was born of duty.

That meant he’d rarely dealt with any other kind of sups. He knew felines, he knew witches, like Niamh, and seers, like Hsu. The rest he’d read or heard about, but he couldn’t boast of having any first-hand experience with them, hence why Vivicia was making him feel uncomfortable.

Were female wolves supposed to be that big? He’d fought plenty of lupine over the last few years, but he’d never stopped to wonder about their gender. Still, even compared to the enemies he recalled, she seemed pretty damn huge. The animal was the size of a goddamn bear. His tiger carefully ran one step behind, although he could certainly take her, speed-wise. And the snarling; was that really necessary? They were all friends here.

The female stopped running quite suddenly and her quick, yet painful, bone cracking process started; half a minute later, a naked woman crouched on the floor. A pretty naked woman. He would have to be blind to fail to notice Vivicia, with her dark, sensual eyes, and all her smooth skin; like most shifters, she was fit - the amount of exercise they needed to stay sane saw to that - but she also had a fair amount of curves. He’d been more than conscious of her in the past. Today, neither he nor his tiger cared, single-mindedly focused on finding their elusive savior. It had been over three hours since she may have been shot. The poison could very well have taken hold by now.

He also shifted, after negotiating with his frustrated tiger who didn’t want to let go quite yet. But he couldn’t speak with the female in their animal form, as she wasn’t part of the pride. Stupid, weird, magic mojo rules he didn’t understand.

“I can’t help if I don’t know what the hell I’m tracking, Robocop.”

She’d taken to calling him that for some reason. He hadn’t bothered asking why.

“I told you.”

“Yeah, an eagle. There’s at least fifty dead ones around us, though. My wolf smells eagle everywhere north of the house.”

He shook his head.

“She came from the east, and headed west, towards the town.”

“I need more. Sorry, but I don’t have her scent, anything that belongs to her, and I haven’t seen many eagles in the past.”

Coveney sighed. If the she-wolf had issues catching her, what chance did he have?

You have her scent.

“She smelled of olive and lavender,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair, pissed he didn’t have more.

If Daunte was right, they had her name, her phone number, and other crap like that - any applicant who wanted to join the pride needed to leave that. He could try to track her electronically - or get Ian to do so, anyway - but they were running out of time.

Vivicia frowned and put her hands on the floor, before shifting back. She sniffed left, then right, before dashing across the woods, heading towards the town, this time.

He ran after her, staying on his human form, because she was already slowing down. They always left a few clothes here and there for situations such as these; quickly pulling a pair of track pants on, he started to make his way through their small town.

The pride house was the first home anyone coming through the woods could see, and then there were a few homes, a school, a bank, a bar, their Alpha’s bakery, some restaurants, all on the main road. Vivicia ran through it all, arousing the interest of a few humans. None of them freaked though, just raising a brow.

Anywhere else in the world, that would have been weird, but their Alpha female had created a small shifter haven in Lakesides, long before they’d come. As they hadn’t done anything to ruin that over the last year they’d spent here, they were accepted. So far. If they’d heard the racket their battle had caused just earlier that day, they might have been a little less friendly. Thankfully, Rain had erected wards around the town before it had all started. As the enemies had witches of their own, her wards around their own house hadn’t held out, but they hadn’t been concerned about the town, so the regulars remained blissfully ignorant.

“Is that a new pride member?” someone asked him as he passed. “Can’t be a dog, right?”

He carried on running, not stopping to answer, because Vivicia had slowed down, finally.

They’d made it to a small inn at the other end of town.

Shifting back, Vivicia pointed to the old building.

“There.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m allergic to lavender.”

He lifted a brow. It wasn’t usual for shifters to have allergies, food intolerances, or anything like that, but it happened, especially to half-breeds. Perhaps one of Vivicia’s parents was a regular. He didn’t ask. Prying wasn’t in his nature.

Coveney walked into the lobby of the inn, and was greeted by a man in his mid-thirties. The place seemed clean, although the decor left a lot to be desired. Taking it all in at a glance, his tiger bared his teeth at the idea of the bird staying there. It wasn’t too bad, but it was no place for a shifter. They needed space. They needed a territory to call their own.

“You have a woman staying here,” he said, leaving it at that, because he didn’t know any more about her.

He should have looked at her damn application.

The man shifted uncomfortably.

“Our guest’s privacy…” he started.

Coveney placed both of his elbows on the counter and leaned forward.

Three, two, one…

“There’s only one at the moment. Second floor, the first door on the right.”

Vivicia chuckled as she walked right behind him. “Regulars.” He could practically hear her roll her eyes. “What was that girl thinking, though? He could have given her location to just about anyone.”

Coveney’s generally well-behaved tiger growled in warning. He’d already thought of that; spelling it out wasn’t doing anyone any favors.

As they approached, his own sense of smell picked up the trail. His steps got faster and faster because, along with olive and lavender, he got blood, and something else, something that made him want to wretch.

Shit. He hadn’t been wrong. She’d been hit, and poisoned, too.

The room the innkeeper directed him to wasn’t even closed, let alone locked; the door was slightly ajar, as though someone had gotten out in a hurry. He leaped and pushed it, his mind coming up with a thousand different ways how he might have screwed up and arrived too late.

He stopped dead at the door, as he took in his eagle in her human shell. Someone might as well have punched him.

He didn’t know why. He hadn’t given much thought as to what she looked like. It didn’t matter. He owed her a favor and that meant she wasn’t going to die today. No other motivation had moved him.

Coveney was screwed ten different ways, because the woman was pretty much fucking dying, and his damn cock didn’t fucking care; it stirred, twitching in his pants.

Her long, layered hair fell in soft waves around her, and her soft, plump mouth breathed shallow breaths that should have alarmed him, not made him want to touch it. She wasn’t wearing much - just shorts, and an open jacket. It shouldn’t have mattered, nudity was natural to shifters. But it fucking did. He couldn’t stop staring at her damn breasts.

“You’re not dying,” he said simply, because she didn’t have a fucking choice in the matter today.

Or ever.