Dani Harper - First Bite

They’d believe anything she told them.

Meredith rubbed her finger over a tiny snag on one of her freshly done nails, and hoped the nail would hold out for a little while longer. Not that she minded the cost of the exquisite black-diamond polish, but the manicurist was presently on her hands and knees in the middle of the circle. What if the woman hadn’t recovered sufficiently to redo her work tomorrow? Meredith could attempt a binding spell on the nail, of course, but magic was so very difficult to finesse on teeny-tiny things—it didn’t have the laser-like precision to work only on her nail without affecting the finger.

Finally the dark blush of fur covered the contorted shapes, and a few moments later seven new wolves stood on shaky legs. Two lay motionless, however, and Meredith cursed viciously as she crossed the ring of stones and strode over to her new wolves. She toed one of the unmoving heaps of fur and spat on it, furious that she’d have to find someone else to do her nails. The other body she ignored entirely in favor of looking over the new crop. Five gray wolves, one black, one rusty cream. All cowered before her but one, one of the grays, Riley something or other. He’d been nearly as much trouble as Geneva from the very beginning. A big wolf, his ears flattened against his broad skull and he snarled as he glared hatefully at his maker.

He actually had the temerity to challenge her? Meredith couldn’t be more delighted. Her exquisitely shaped lips parted in a model-perfect smile—

Just before they curled back to reveal the fangs of a monstrous silver wolf.

His eyes were closed, yet Travis was far from asleep. Neva hadn’t noticed his ears, erect and angled to catch the faintest of sounds, his nostrils flared wide and facing the slight breeze in order to detect any scent of their pursuer. It appeared the stranger had given up hours ago, but Travis was vigilant just the same. Neva, on the other hand, had zonked out mere seconds after sprawling beneath a sumac bush. She deserved the rest, too—although she’d kept up with him, he knew it had been hard on her. He’d set a fast pace and headed directly downwind, keeping their scent away from the unknown Changeling they’d detected in the distance. There was nothing Travis could do about the truck, however. The stranger would have had ample time to study it with his nose and learn plenty about them. Any shape-shifter worth his salt would discern that a female was making her first Change, and Travis’s inner wolf snarled at the thought of anyone knowing anything about Neva. It pissed off his human side, too (and for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely). Could her pack have found her already?

Or was Travis himself the target? Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not after you . Eventually he dismissed the idea that it could have been someone from his old pack. Not only had it been decades since he’d seen any of them, Travis didn’t recognize the scent at all. And he seriously doubted that anyone who didn’t know him personally would be following him. No, either the Changeling was after Neva, or it was a random stranger just checking them out.

Travis was personally rooting for the random-stranger theory, because the wolf would have memorized both their scents and tracked them like a bloodhound. Sure, Travis and Neva had played and run through the lake shallows for a considerable distance before returning to dry land. The stranger would have had to circle the lake, casting back and forth to find the place they’d left the water. But he would find it. And follow. Their trail would be as plain as a four-lane highway to Changeling senses.

Yet the wolf had apparently given up the chase. If the Changeling had truly been after either one of them, he would even now be breathing down their necks—or attempting to tear out their throats. Except that no sane wolf would tackle a shape-shifter of Travis’s size and experience alone.

Which means there’s a chance he’s fallen back to wait for reinforcements.

Travis opened his eyes and heaved himself to his feet. He hated to do it, but he nosed Neva awake anyway. Come on. We have to get moving.

Neva wanted more sleep—about a week’s worth—but if there was any chance they were still being followed, it was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Meredith’s wolves were certain to be hunting for her. Or for my body. For the first time, she realized that their crazed leader probably didn’t expect her to survive a first Change by herself. A new question surfaced almost immediately: If she died, would Meredith have cared at all? Would she have been the teeniest, tiniest bit sorry? Neva shoved that question away, tried to deep-six that whole line of thinking, and only succeeded in diverting it somewhat.

There was no guarantee Neva would have survived even if she’d stayed. No one in the pack received any coaching or comfort during their initial shift. Pain and shock combined to overcome some of the newbies, more so if they fought it. Resistance was, indeed, futile. There was only death or enslavement to Meredith’s warped magic.

Neva had managed to create a third option: escape. She was still amazed she’d pulled it off, but she hadn’t had any faith in her ability to elude Meredith for long. Her whole plan had been to die before she could be forced into standard pack initiation: the slaughter of a human being. Every member had to prove their absolute obedience and loyalty to Meredith through murder. At least that’s what she said—Neva suspected that Meredith somehow used the deaths to power some of her horrible spells. And every pack member would hasten to comply. Neva knew she would have, too, had she stayed. Not because she wanted to, not because she feared whatever punishment would be meted out if she didn’t (although that was certain to be ugly and painful). No, it was because the magic Meredith commanded usurped the will of every member of her pack. Once they made that first Change, they were hers.

If that’s true, why am I not running back to her?

Why indeed? Travis’s words popped into her head. He was about twenty yards ahead of her as they raced along a small river valley where the foliage was dense. She thought she detected a note of amusement in his “voice”—he probably got a kick out of annoying her.

Have you been listening all along? she demanded.

Have you made any effort to keep your thoughts to yourself?

She ignored that. Look, when can I Change back to human? I’ve had enough of running around on four feet. Tell me how.

When we get to a town.

We’ve bypassed three towns, a truck stop, and a fruit stand already. You’re not my boss. It should be my decision when I Change, and I want to Change now. For all I know, you could be trying to keep me like this so you have somebody to hang out with.

Despite their ground-eating gallop, Travis stopped so suddenly that she had to swerve to avoid crashing into him. She tripped over her own feet and tumbled down a brushy slope, where she lay with the wind half knocked out of her. Stiff-legged, he stalked after her, and from her prone vantage point, she appreciated anew that not only was he a helluva lot bigger than she was as a human, he was also damn huge as a wolf. His tawny-gold ruff stood out, and the ridge of fur along his spine rose as well. His muzzle was wrinkling with suppressed fury, although he was keeping his sharp teeth covered for the moment.

It was his fault that she fell, and he was pissed? It was all she could do not to growl at him. How sweet of you to come and see if I’m all right.