CHAPTER TWO
Kingston
The heavy scent of death punches me in the face and sends every hair follicle I have buzzing. I’m aching to Change. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since my last shift, but it’s not like I’m the one in control of my own animal.
No, if the fucking Laissard pack Changes, then I do too.
I crouch down with my weight leveraged on my heels and get ready to attack. A lone coyote sniffs the fence line searching for a way to breach the perimeter. The moonlight sifting through the clouds creates shadows and plays mind tricks on the wild dog.
Once he’s good and spooked, he runs in the opposite direction. I expel all the air from my bowed chest cavity and fight the urge to chase after him, hunt down his entire pack, and have me a good, old coyote buffet.
But that’s not like me. I’m not reckless. Not anymore.
My breathing slows down, and I give my body a hard shake. I shove the hunger back down into that deep, dark place. My heartbeat has returned to its usual range of fifty-four beats per minute. It’s one of my things, a tick or whatever. Counting. It’s doesn’t matter what it is, heartbeats, paw prints, fence posts. It can be the damn birds in the sky for all I care. If it’ll help tame the beast within, I’ll count the fuck out of it.
It takes a split second for my stormy eyes to adjust back to the hot night. Except for the coyote, the bayou is quiet tonight. I gauge the air and perk my ears to listen.
The wind shifts.
My eyes pop into round circles and I snap my head to the left.
Strawberries.
And not the wild kind. Not the kind you can find from a garden runner or a hanging basket.
I stick my chin into the breeze and catch a combination of the sweet fruit and sweat, or maybe fear. No, definitely no fear. I also smell oil and gas.
Someone is in my backyard.
I snarl and zip off through the marsh. My weight leaves concave prints in the wet dirt and I sniff, filling my heated lungs with the intruder’s scent.
The blood stalls in my veins. I freeze.
Female.
The intruder is a woman. And worse… human.
I contemplate letting her be. Maybe if I don’t ruffle any feathers, she’ll just pass on through. There’s only one problem with that plan. There’s a funky stench drowning out the yummy strawberries.
The stink of Wolf.
The tiny hairs prickle on the back of my neck and pop to attention. It signals the deep growl that’s snowballing in my chest.
Ayden Laissard.
The Laissard pack is circling.
The familiar vibration floods my core. Bones snap and sinew contorts to reshape to my frame. The blood heats through my veins and arteries like a broken water spigot as the beast explodes from my body. It consumes my humanity in the excruciating process.
Back paws over front, I take off in the human’s direction.
I spot a vehicle blocking the narrow path that can barely be called a road. There are no lights or sign of life. I scan my surroundings.
No death either.
I catch a slight shimmer of chestnut hair before I lock contact on the brush encompassing the broken down Volkswagen. Holy shit, the vehicle has no fucking roof. She’s like a bloody rump roast served up on a paper plate with a side of potato salad. I might as well get the whole god damn wolf pack after dinner mints.
I’m only able to count three of the violent beasts, but that doesn’t matter. There’s always four. You don’t come across the Laissard brothers without Bryce Gresseau somewhere stuck right up the alpha’s ass.
It’s too late to try and track him down.
The female adjusts her body and cranes her neck to peer out over the back seat. Her attempt to keep herself safe is futile.
Futile and stupid.
Ayden howls which gives his pack the go ahead.
The woman cries out. She’s trapped inside the vehicle and surrounded now by four sets of gnashing teeth. The pack closes in on her. The leader makes one, swift move and lands on the hood of the Thing. He begins to pace and the dark red hair pops along his bony spine.
A flash of fair skin shines like a beacon in the night as she scrambles into the back seat and scrunches down to block herself in the floor.
I’m plotting my next move, but Bryce forces my hand.
I blast through the brush and seize the wolf by his furry throat as he lunges through the air. My mouth fills with bitter, hot liquid and the mutt yelps as he falls to the side.
The pack recoils and snarls in my direction as I position myself between them and the female. I rear up on my hind legs, towering over them and release a bottomless, territorial growl.
The woman screams distracting my attention. But I quickly glare back toward the wolf. I lock contact with Ayden as he backs out of the clearing, still on all fours, and vanishes into the swamp.