Rebecca Zanetti: Consumed

Tigers were known to be good snugglers.

“I’m sure.” He flashed a grin. “Though we could get drunk later and hash it out again.”

Yeah, unless she was packing. “I feel like I should go with Jordan to the lab.” She’d need to cancel two lunch dates and a hair appointment the next week. “Maybe I can get someone to cover for me at work.” She’d made a good life with a lot of human friends the last decade. In fact, she was mainly human now. Just disappearing wasn’t an option.

Lance nodded. “Well, besides the guy we’re chasing, just turned werewolves are few and far between. The shifting clans are doing a good job staying underground, so we could probably handle things here without you for a spell. A very short spell.” His cell phone buzzed and he lifted the device to his ear. “When? How bad? Okay.” Flipping the phone shut, he smacked his fist into his other hand. “We’ve had a report of an infected human—guy showed up at the hospital with fur growing all over his body.”

Baye frowned. “We haven’t had a human infection in a year. What’s that about?” He rubbed his chin, surveying the docks. “All right. You head over there to find out if he’s really a werewolf or some idiot on meth. Katie and I will keep looking around here—though there’s no way a lair is on a boat.”

Lance sniffed the air, concern shadowing his eyes. “I sense a werewolf signature ... one has been here lately.” He nudged Katie with his hip. “Why don’t you come to the hospital with me?”

She rolled her eyes. Now Lance was getting overprotective, too? Sure, she’d been weaker lately from the virus, but she hadn’t thought anyone else had noticed. “I’m fine. I need to track this guy.” So far, she was the only one who could actually get into the beast’s head ... or heart ... or wherever the evil lived. The other shifters only sensed the bastard. “Besides, we never hunt alone.”

Baye eyed her. “I’m just surveying the land and trying to find where the werewolf last played—no hunting tonight. Why don’t you go with Lance?”

Oh, no way. Her squad was not going to treat her like some fragile human. She settled her stance, glaring at both men. “We. Don’t. Hunt. Alone.”

They shared a look. Baye shrugged. “Fine.”

Lance grimaced. “Fair enough. I’ll call you later with answers about the human. Maybe I’ll drop by Linda’s after the hospital.”

“No.” Baye hissed out a breath. “Let the woman go. She said it’s over.”

Katie gave Lance a sympathetic smile. He’d really liked the psychologist. “Either forget her or tell her the truth about yourself. She knows you hide something ... it’s the only chance you have.”

Lance shook his head. “I can’t tell her about shifters unless I mate her, you know that. And I’m not ready to mate.” He tucked his gun in his jeans, the odd glow of his eyes piercing the night.

“Then she’s not the right one,” Baye muttered.

A slow smile wandered over Lance’s chiseled face. “You’re the only woman who truly knows me, lioness.” He shot Katie a wink and then pivoted, loping slowly out of sight.

Katie stifled a grin. What a flirt.

The breeze picked up, bringing salt and the smell of fish across the dock. She shivered.

Baye leaned over and eyed the still water. “Let’s find where this werewolf was, so we can prepare for him coming back.”

Katie nodded, opening her senses.

The creak of the dock over water masked their footsteps as they stalked closer to a row of pleasure yachts, white decks shining in the soft moonlight. The lap of water gently rocked them to and fro.

Baye rolled his neck. “I’m so sick of saltwater. Why can’t this bastard head inland?”

“Because we hate saltwater.” The beast had a brain and a sick sense of fun. Each time a full moon came and went, his strength increased. A sad and newly discovered fact regarding shifters turned werewolves, as was intelligence. The beasts seemed to get smarter the longer they lived—smarter and fully psychotic. The monsters hid for most of the month, waiting until the moon rose high to hunt and kill. For some reason, the rays gave them strength. “We need to find his lair.”

Though finding werewolves in lairs had nearly gotten Katie killed numerous times. Of course, that’s what she’d signed up for. She wasn’t supposed to fight but needed to get close in order to sense the beasts. At that point, fighting became inevitable.

Baye eyed the nearly full moon. “This guy is underground—somewhere close. The full moon isn’t for several nights.”

“I know. But he comes here when he goes out to play.” A sense of oiliness coated the docks. A psychic footprint only Katie sensed. Sometimes she feared the evil would seep in through her senses and take root. “If we found where, we could have troops waiting.”

“Sounds like a great plan.” Baye dropped to a crouch, wiping a hand across the faded dock. “Uh, what’s going on between you and Lance?”

Katie’s head jerked to the side. “Nothing. Why?”

Baye shut his eyes and lifted his head, nostrils flaring. “Just making sure. Emotions get in the way when hunting animals. You know that. We don’t date members of our own squad.”

She so didn’t need the lecture on dating in the workplace. Sometimes Baye forgot she was all grown up. “Lance and I are just friends.” Good friends, sure. They’d fought together and she trusted him. “You know how I feel about Jordan.” Everybody knew.

Baye sighed, standing and opening his eyes. “I thought maybe you got over that crush.” His tone hinted he’d hoped she’d let go of that dream. “Especially now, Kate. Time to move on.”

“With Lance?” Humor lifted the corners of her lips.

Baye twisted his neck to see beyond a stack of buoys. “Maybe. If he can get over the damn psychologist.”

“I’ll think about it. But, really, I’m not taking dating advice from a lion who goes through women like cat treats.” In fact, she’d never seen Baye get serious about any woman.

“I’m too young to settle down.”

“You’re over four hundred years old.”

“Exactly.”

Katie chuckled. Then, a scent ... an intent carried in with the breeze. Dark images of death and blood filled her vision. Holy crap. Was the werewolf waiting? Couldn’t be. He’d be underground until the full moon. Storing his strength. She pushed the grotesque vision out of her brain. “I think the werewolf is here.” Too bad Lance hadn’t stayed.

Baye’s shoulders went back. “Werewolves stay hidden until the full moon.” Even so, the shifter’s stance dropped to fight, his body going deadly still.

“This one’s different.” The bastard was close—she just knew it. She cupped her hands around her mouth so her voice would reach the rafters. Maybe more than bats and water spiders hung out in the high beams. “Come on out, Snuggles. I know you’re there.”

Baye snorted. “Snuggles?”

“I got tired of thinking of him as ‘sociopathic monster.’ So I named him Snuggles.” She kept her tone matter-of-fact. In truth, the werewolf scared the crap out of her. She felt him ... he carried more inside than mere beast. A darkness, oily and evil, slid through the images she gleaned. No way had he been a decent man before turning into a werewolf. Researching him had led nowhere. She had no clue what his name had been—many werewolves didn’t have files. Unfortunately.

“He’s underground, Kate.” Baye’s cautious surveying of the area belied his words. “But I do find it interesting he’s stayed around town with us taking so many of his kind down.”

“No you don’t.” She reached for the knife along her calf, eyeing an empty berth at the end of the dock. A yacht horn blared lonely and sad in the far distance. Waves lapped up on the shore. “As always, you have a hypothesis.”