Kelley Armstrong: The Hunter And The Hunted

His broad face split into a grin. He winced, slapping a hand to his broken jaw. When he looked up, Elena was gone. One panicked glance around, then he broke into a run.

Had Elena been a wolf playing this mating ritual for real, she’d have ditched Cain after five minutes, deciding he either wasn’t interested enough or competent enough to track her and, either way, wasn’t worthy of her attention.

He kept losing her trail and backtracking. Or he’d glimpse a pedestrian down another road and take off that way before his nose finally told him it wasn’t Elena. Without a Pack, a werewolf grows up immersed in human society, feeling the instincts of a wolf but not trusting them or knowing what to do with them. Cain seemed to be running on pure lust and enthusiasm, which, while amusing, wasn’t much of a challenge… or much fun.

After he backtracked over my trail twice-thankfully not noticing-Elena decided it was time to end this segment of the game before Cain realized there was a third player. She’d intended to take it to the next level anyway. Hunting in human form was like playing tag with this mutt-not much of a challenge… or much fun.

She led him to a park down by the river, then darted into a cluster of shrubs to Change. Cain caught up quickly-Elena had made sure he’d been right behind her. This time, once he realized what she was doing, there’d been no indecision. After a few seconds of trying unsuccessfully to see her naked through the bushes, he tore off to find a Changing spot of his own.

I guarded Elena until I heard Cain’s first grunt, assuring me he wasn’t about to change his mind. Then I ducked into a hiding place and undressed.

When I came out, she was already stretched out in the shadows, tail flicking against the ground, eager to be off. Seeing me, she let out a soft chuff, her blue eyes rolling, saying, Settle in-this could take a while.

I was looking around when Cain’s bushes erupted in a flurry of rustling, punctuated by very human grunts. He’d barely begun.

Elena’s head slumped forward, muzzle resting on her forelegs as a sigh rippled through her flanks. I growled a laugh and loped off to set up the playing field.

I lay on a flat rock overlooking the path, nose twitching as the river scents wafted past, making me salivate at the smell of fish. I hooked my forepaws over the rock and stretched, back arching, foot pads scraping against the rough, broken edge. I’d been waiting a while, and I could feel the ache in my muscles, urging me to get up, get moving, get running.

I stretched again and peered over the edge. The perfect launch pad. Elena would lead Cain along the path, and, with one leap, I’d have my workout. The chase, the hunt, the takedown-all more satisfying than the actual fight.

A low whine cut through the still night. I lifted my head, ears swiveling as they tracked the sound to a brown wolf a hundred feet away. Cain, whining for Elena, probably worried she’d given up and taken off.

After a moment, she appeared, a pale wraith sliding silently from the shadows. Cain let out a sharper whine and danced in place like a domestic dog seeing his master come home.

Elena continued toward him, taking her time, tail down, head high. She stopped about six feet away, making him come to her, gaze straight ahead, a queen granting her subject permission to approach.

Cain paced, keeping his distance. Her body language was perfectly clear-she was establishing hierarchy-but he didn’t know what to make of it and kept pacing.

When he didn’t accept the invitation to approach and sniff her, Elena started turning away. Again, clear wolf behavior, not snubbing him, just coquettishly saying, Well, if you aren’t interested…

Cain went still. As she presented him with her flank, his head lowered, hackles rising. I leapt to my feet, nails scrabbling against the rock, a warning bark in my throat. But before it could escape, he sprang.

Cain grabbed Elena’s shoulder, teeth sinking in, whipping her off her feet. I raced down the slope as he threw her in the air. She hit the ground, spun, and dove at him, snarls slicing through the night. Cain let out a yelp of surprise and pain as she ripped into him.

I skidded to a stop fifty feet away, still unseen. Ears forward, eyes straining, sight now the most critical sense as I watched and evaluated.

After a moment, I retreated to my perch, my gaze fixed on them, ready to fly back down if the battle turned against Elena.

They continued to fight, a rolling ball of growls and fur and blood. I could smell that blood, his and hers, the latter making a whimper shudder up from my gut. I shook it off and locked my legs, standing my ground.

Finally, Elena backed away, snarling, head down, hackles up. Cain scrambled to his feet, shaking his head, blood spraying. As he recovered, Elena glanced in my direction, as if wondering whether she should finish this herself or follow through on the plan.

My muscles coiled and uncoiled as I danced in place, gaze fixed on him, twice her size, too much for her to handle if she didn’t have to, praying she made the right choice, the safe choice. Of course she did. With Elena, common sense always wins over ego. With one final lip-curling snarl, she ran for the path.

She’d covered half the distance when her muzzle jerked up and she swerved, circling an oak tree and going back the other way. I was scrambling up when I caught the scents: dog and human. I followed the smell and saw a man walking a terrier, heading this way.

Elena looped back, darting a weaving path around every obstacle she could find, trying to buy time. I glanced at the dog walker. An elderly man and an old dog, creeping along, oblivious and unhurried.

As Elena circled a small outbuilding, she dipped, paw probably catching a rodent hole, not enough to make her stumble but slowing her down. Cain lunged. He only caught a mouthful of tail hair. As his snarl of frustration reverberated through the park, the old dog lifted his muzzle in a lazy sniff, then went back to dawdling along beside his master.

Elena disappeared behind the building. A yelp followed, loud enough to make the man look up. Elena’s yelp. I sprang to my feet. She shot from behind the building, a pale streak, low to the ground, running full out now, Cain on her heels.

A third shape shot from behind the building, larger than the first two. No, that was Cain-I could make out the odd drop of his jaw. My gaze swung to Elena and the new mutt behind her. Cain had brought backup. Shit!

I crouched, ready to leap from the rock. The man and dog rounded the corner, bringing them right into my path below. I looked over my shoulder, at the long route, then at Elena, now tearing across the park, heading for the river, getting farther from me with each stride.

A split second of hesitation, and I leapt, sailing over the man and dog and hitting the ground hard on the other side. The little dog started yelping, a high pitched aii-aii-aii . The old man wheezed and sputtered, his gasps echoing the pound of my paws as I raced away.

With my first sprint, I started closing in on Cain. But he wasn’t the one I was worried about. I recognized the other mutt’s scent now. Brian McKay, the mutt Elena and I had rousted last year when he killed a hooker. He might be smaller and older than Cain, but he was a hell of a lot more dangerous, and he was right on Elena’s tail, the gap between us only getting larger.

Come on, circle around! Bring him back to me!

I knew she couldn’t. She finally began to veer, but east, toward the river, heading up an embankment to a set of train tracks. At the top, she started to run back down, then she sheered again, staying the course. McKay bought the fake-out, turning to race down the hill, probably hoping to cut her off in descent. When he saw her swerve back, he tried to stop himself, but he spun too sharp, losing his footing and tumbling down the embankment.