Shelly Laurenston - Howl for It

But worse than all that was what was going on between Janie Mae and Bubba Ray Smith. The pair had been on-and-off-again for several years now. They played all sorts of games with each other, trying to make the other one jealous. When Janie had gotten pregnant with her first son, the family sort of sighed in relief, figuring the pair would finally become mates and end all the bickering.

That, unfortunately, did not happen. Instead, the bickering became worse. Much worse. Now, two sons later, with the third on the way, the pair traipsed back and forth between North Carolina and Tennessee, one usually following the other, stopping occasionally to argue in one of the midway rest stops that probably deserved better.

Was it really supposed to be this hard? Was love and caring supposed to be so ridiculously silly and demanding? Darla didn’t think so. Neither did her friends in San Francisco—a lovely mix of shifters and full-humans that she’d met when she’d left home at eighteen to start her internship at the Baltimore Van Holtz restaurant. Lord, it was 1974! Wonderful things were happening all around them. Times were changing. There was beautiful music and people were beginning to realize that war and violence didn’t answer all of life’s tough questions. It was a time to travel and see the world, discover new and interesting people, religions, and species.

But Darla’s kin was locked into a world Darla had no desire to be part of. One filled with jockeying for position in a Pack. Unlike their full-blood wolf counterparts, the shifters rarely settled for their position in life. They always wanted more or less or different, but never what they had. And anyone with a brain could see that what Janie wanted was to be Alpha Female of the Smithtown Pack. She couldn’t and wouldn’t settle for less, even if that meant booting Bubba’s momma out of her current position as Alpha. Of course, that was just Janie Mae’s way. And the rest of Darla’s sisters, although older, were the perfect Betas. They’d fight for Janie to get her what she wanted, even if it meant going head to head with their own mates about it.

The question, Darla guessed, became what did Bubba Ray want? A few years shy of thirty and male . . . he didn’t know what the hell he wanted. Especially if it meant running off his own parents. But like the true Alpha Male Bubba probably would be, he would decide what he wanted when he was dang good and ready. Something Janie Mae wasn’t happy about because even though she may not need to be Alpha today, at this moment, she wanted commitments that it would happen.

So the fighting went on. And on. And on.

If Darla had known this was going to be happening while she was here, she would have taken a break at a commune one of her friends had told her about. Or headed off to Europe and backpacked through France again. The Lord knew there was a world of fine pastries for Darla to experience and explore and learn to make in France. But she wasn’t in France, she was here .

Maybe, in a day or two, she could split. Head out after getting a little time in with her parents, especially her daddy, who hated this fighting as much as Darla did. Until then, though, she’d have to settle for walking away from all the unnecessary crap going on in the house.

Jumping down the stairs, Darla headed into the woods. She hadn’t gotten far, though, when she caught the scent of some unknown wolf on her parents’ territory, coming upwind of her.

She stopped, turned. Darla sniffed the air again, then called out, “Hello?”

A twig snapped behind her and Darla spun, her fangs instantly bursting from her gums at the sight of the gun pointed at her. The man holding that gun blinked in surprise. It was only a moment, though. Only a moment of stunned confusion at the sight of fangs on a young woman in the middle of nowhere. Then the full-human male aimed his weapon and Darla unleashed her claws, readying her body to shift and strike. Hoping the surprise at seeing her as wolf would give her the precious seconds she’d need to tear his throat out.

Darla’s muscles trembled seconds before she launched herself, shifting in midair as she flew at the man. But the gun never went off. The wolf she’d scented earlier now stood behind the human. The hand holding the gun was crushed, the neck snapped.

Yanking herself away so as not to hurt the wolf, Darla somersaulted back, her wolf body slamming into a large tree. When she hit the ground, she looked up at the male wolf. She didn’t recognize him as someone she personally knew, but she knew he was a Smith. Normal wolves didn’t have shoulders that wide or necks that thick. He also had a full beard and dark hair that hung to his shoulders and in his face, making her wonder how he managed to see anything at all.

He stepped toward her, wolf eyes glaring down at her. At least . . . she thought he might be glaring. It was hard to tell.

Darla started to stand up but the glaring Smith wolf pulled the biggest hunting knife she’d ever seen. Positive he was about to cut her throat because he considered her weak by Smith standards, she recoiled away from him, her back pressing into the tree.

He didn’t, however, kill her, but turned and threw that knife, impaling the human male who’d been coming up behind him.

That’s when Darla realized that the first human hadn’t been alone. Lord. How many humans were running around her little town? Where were the town’s deputies? Where were the other Smith and Lewis wolves? The bears? The lions? Was everybody at the bar just drinking? How was this acceptable?

But most importantly, why did all these human males seem to be coming to her? Honestly, Darla would be in big trouble if it weren’t for this oversized Smith wolf who looked like he never smiled.

The wolf walked over to the human male, who was now on his knees, the life from him gone. Before the body dropped to the ground, the wolf yanked the knife from the human’s head and snatched the gun from the human’s hand. The wolf had just tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans when another human charged.

Darla would have warned the wolf but she didn’t have to. He moved so fast, yanking a second hunting knife from a sheath tied to his thick thigh. Slicing up, cutting the inside of the man’s leg, then he stood and slashed the blades across, nearly taking the man’s head off.

Again the wolf looked down at her, bringing one big forefinger to his lips. “Sssssh,” he whispered and disappeared into the woods.

Although Darla didn’t see anything, she could hear well enough. The sounds of dying men as that big wolf went about killing them. Something that would normally horrify Darla. She was a pacifist after all. And yet . . . she wasn’t horrified; she just didn’t know why.

Then she felt something sticky under her paw. She leaned down, sniffed. Blood. Her blood.

It must have been when she’d hit the tree. She knew she’d hit it hard but not this hard. She thought about calling out to her family. Howling. Or even calling to the wolf. But she was suddenly so weak and tired.

Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a bit . . .

Eggie finished the last human, his hand around the man’s mouth, one of his favorite knives tearing open a hole from bowel to stomach. When the man stopped struggling, he dropped the body, took the weapon, and headed back toward the little Lewis girl. He briefly stopped to pull his second favorite knife from the open mouth of the other man, quickly wiping it on the man’s clothes before sliding the blade back into its sheath.

He stepped out of the woods into the small clearing.

“You all right?” he softly asked the She-wolf, his gaze scanning the woods for any more skulking humans—the only species he knew that skulked, by the way. But when he didn’t get an answer, he focused on her.