Lori Handeland - Marked by the Moon

Alex loped alone for miles, and that was fine by her. The less she saw of Barlow, the better. He wasn’t going to be able to ditch her. She could smell him on the breeze, the grass. Hell, even the snow—which had begun to swirl heavier and faster, obscuring the tops of the trees—smelled like him.

Then she caught a whiff of something else. Something that made her ruff go back up, along with her lip, and her snarl rumbled into the chill.

Blood.

It had a scent all its own.

Alex hunkered down, crept forward, belly to the ground. She tried to be quiet. But no matter what she did, one of her paws always landed on a stick or a stone—crack, clatter, come and get me.

She took another sniff. Not just blood but death. Dammit! She’d wanted to kill Barlow herself.

Strangely, the idea of him dead did not make her want to roll across the snow and yip with delight. Instead, panic caused her to pant. She turned a slow circle and saw nothing but trees.

A whimper escaped, and she swiped a paw at her snout in annoyance. Whining would get her nowhere.

She used her human mind, made herself see reason. Barlow couldn’t be dead. She hadn’t heard a shot. Not that a silver bullet was the only way to go.

Lighten up! she told herself. If Barlow were ashes she could go back to civilization, find Edward—yeah, right—and make him cure her.

Except no one made Edward do anything.

Alex was starting to catch a clue to something she hadn’t considered before. Even if she succeeded at this mission, would Edward cure her?

Why, when she made such a perfect spy?

She discovered she was gnawing on her own foot, as if caught in a trap.

Because she was. Damn Edward Mandenauer to hell.

Ferocity boiled inside. Consumed with the need to run and growl and fight, Alex shot out of the undergrowth.

All she found was a freshly killed rabbit, its blood a scarlet splotch against the pristine snow. She finished dinner in less time than it had taken to “make” it. Though the “Alex” inside of her was squirming, the wolf enjoyed the meal. Nothing like fresh meat on an empty stomach.

When she was done she looked around for another, but she wasn’t the only one that had smelled blood and death on the breeze. It appeared every small, furry creature in the vicinity had turned tail and run. She didn’t blame them.

Alex trotted after Barlow. Miles upon miles she traveled, and the moon began to fall. She didn’t get tired, but she did get thirsty. Luckily there was plenty of snow, and in the distance she smelled water. A lot of it.

She increased her pace; the water was close, but she could already tell it wasn’t meant for drinking. Her nose was an amazing tool.

The trees became less dense, and she stood at their edge, gazing across the flat land that led to the sea. The glow of the moon banking across the ice floes dazzled her. A soft breeze bristled off the water, frozen and salty, making her think of margaritas. All she needed was a really big lime and an oil tanker of tequila.

The ice lifted and lowered, crashed against other floes and made a strange rumble, the only sound in the desolate land. She skittered beneath the trees. Everything was so different here.

The sky began to lighten, but that only served to send dancing gray shadows everywhere. She turned, planning to scurry into the densest part of the forest, and caught a flash of something huge and white. She barely managed to duck the claws that swiped for her head, then she was running.

Being chased by a polar bear has that effect.

How long had the thing been stalking her? She remembered the scent of “other” that she hadn’t been able to put a name to, the slight scritch of claws on snow that she’d written off as her own.

Hell, he’d been hunting her for hours.

Thank God in this form she was faster. He’d never catch her. Never.

She gave in to the power within; she ran as she’d never run before. Now that she’d seen what was behind her, her fear faded. The bear was a fool for even thinking it could track and kill her. She was more than a wolf, more than a woman. She was both; she was neither. She was better.

Alex hugged the edge of the trees just as dawn burst over the horizon, and as the sunlight touched her, she stumbled, falling head-over-paws, which became heels and feet and toes as she shifted.

Naked and vulnerable, she scrambled upright. Just as the bear came out of the woods.

Goose bumps raced across her flesh, and not just because of the chill air across her skin. She might not die from the coming attack, but it was certainly going to hurt. And if there were pieces of her all over the place, would she really be able to heal? She just didn’t know.

“Barlow!” Alex shouted.

The bear roared right in her face. Its breath smelled like…

Blood and hunger. With a little rotten fish on the side.

“Shit,” she muttered. Should she run, or shouldn’t she?

Her wolf howled for fight not flight. Her human self knew better. Even if she could shift in the daylight, a wolf wasn’t going to win a battle against a polar bear, and while human she wasn’t going to be able to outrun this thing.

The polar bear leaned to the left to swipe at her with its right paw; the animal was pretty damn quick for its size.

Alex eluded the claws; she was faster, even in this form, but she would never be fast enough. Unable to stop herself, she took several steps back, and the polar bear roared again.

Which was all Alex needed to make up her mind. She wasn’t going to stand there and let it slice her apart. She had to at least try to escape. Maybe she could get far enough ahead and make her way up a tree.

Polar bears couldn’t climb trees. Could they?

Alex ran deeper into the forest, thinking that perhaps she’d find a place so dense that she could fit through but the great white beast could not.

The earth trembled beneath her feet; the animal’s hot, stinky breath brushed her ass. What was a polar bear doing in the forest anyway? Didn’t they live on the ice?

Alex bore down. She couldn’t keep up this pace for long, but she had to put some distance between them.

Suddenly Barlow stepped from behind a tree. Alex was so startled she forgot if she had two feet or four and got them tangled, tripping, skidding, almost falling. She managed to right herself, but those few seconds cost her.

The bear slapped Alex with one massive paw.

She heard her ribs crack, felt her skin tear, smelled the blood as it splattered. The blow lifted and tossed her several yards, where she landed in a heap at Barlow’s feet.

Alex glanced all the way up his tall, broad, naked body. Too bad she was in too much pain to enjoy the view.

Why had he bothered to reveal himself? Without weapons, in this form, Barlow could do no more than she against this massive foe. They’d both be torn to bits, and they wouldn’t be able to heal wounds like that completely until night fell again, and they shifted.

Barlow’s gaze flicked over her, and his blue eyes darkened to black; then he threw back his head and emitted a bellow of fury that seemed to shake the leaves upon the trees.

The sound caused the polar bear to pull up short. Barlow threw out his arms, hands spread wide, and at the very edge of his fingertips something twinkled.

Then he was shifting in the blink of an eye, so fast Alex couldn’t tell the exact instant he changed from man to beast. Fury turned Julian into an animal. Rain or shine, sun or shadow, if he became enraged enough, he changed. That was how he’d become what he was in the first place.

He shot out his hands, reached for his magic, believed he could become a wolf in the sunlight, and he did.