Dani Harper - First Bite

She considered her options.

The stony hillsides on either side of the wide valley seemed inhospitable to all but a mountain goat. The banks of the trickling creek they were following were the only places where trees and thick brush grew lushly. The rest of the land was a sea of tall, dry grass and sage, occasionally crisscrossed by ancient wire fencing. And wherever there’s fencing, there’re people. Somewhere. Neva stopped and looked back over the path she’d already traveled. Off to the west at the base of the hill was what seemed to be an abandoned barn. She hadn’t paid attention before she passed it, but she could remedy that now. Maybe she could find something in the old building she could use.

Neva began to trudge back along the path she’d already traveled, then left the cover of the trees and struck out across the field.

What the hell? Travis had been stewing in his own thoughts when his wolf stopped dead in its tracks and refused to move an inch. Immediately his senses discerned that Neva was much farther behind him than she had been. He chuffed out an impatient breath—how much slower did he have to go just so she could indulge her bullheaded determination to walk on two legs instead of four? He’d been so damn certain that she’d soon be begging him to tell her how to return to her lupine form. Ha. He should have known better. He couldn’t be that lucky. Instead, he’d spent the last few hours trying not to think about the naked woman on the trail behind him.

The gorgeous naked woman. He’d gotten a look at her when he was taking off her casts and clothes, but he hadn’t had time for admiration with her Change imminent and her eyes glowing green. His concern for her had somehow overridden the impulse. But now—dear goddess, when she’d returned to her human form, it was like he’d been slapped in the head with a two-by-four. He didn’t see stars, but he did see that her nipples were the exact color of caramel and appeared just as luscious. Her skin was unusually fair, a delightful contrast to the rich brown hair that tumbled in waves to her shoulders—and the freckles on her shoulders matched the ones that dusted her nose and cheekbones. It was all he could do not to resume his human form as well. His paws twitched as he yearned to glide his hands over her curves, memorize her enticing shape by touch. Worse, his human self definitely had a hard-on. That didn’t translate well to the wolfen body he was currently in, and it wasn’t long before the acute discomfort had forced him to leave the scene.

He’d been keeping his distance from Neva ever since. Physically, at least. Mentally, it was a near-impossible feat, which made his current mood irritated with a chance of insanity. Although his wolf clearly wanted to go back for Neva, Travis was in no hurry to be knocked off-kilter again by her powerful appeal. He plunked his butt on the trail and waited for her to catch the hell up.

And waited.

Finally his senses—and maybe his sense , period—kicked in: the woman had not stopped to rest or slowed her snail’s pace. She was heading in another direction entirely. Oh, for Christ’s sake.

With difficulty, Travis retained control of his wolfen self and kept it from dashing after her. If she wanted to go somewhere else, then maybe she should go. After all, it was probably past time they went their separate ways. He’d gone above and beyond by saving her life, springing her from the hospital, and helping her through her first shift. What else was he supposed to do for her? It was obvious that she wasn’t very interested in being a Changeling like him anyway.

Bad sire, said his wolf. Frightened.

I didn’t ask you. He wasn’t about to start conversing with his alter ego, but his animal persona had a point. What little Travis knew of Neva’s history wouldn’t make him excited to be a Changeling, either. He’d hoped she’d have a little fun when her wolf first emerged, enjoy the freedom and the sheer joy of existence that came with it. Instead, she’d actually tried to drown herself.

Bad sire.

Travis’s lupine brows furrowed. Despite her actions, he knew full well that Neva never had a true death wish—it was all an effort to keep her sire from using her. She was convinced that this Meredith woman would force her to kill. And admittedly, a sire had the power to compel a new Changeling, at least at first. But what Changeling would demand murder? True, her sire didn’t seem to take her responsibilities very seriously, but kill a human on purpose ?

No, it was plain that Neva hadn’t been taught the first thing about Changeling law. She was mistaken, had to be. She didn’t even know that her sire’s influence would eventually wear off. So who would tell her the truth about her new life if Travis didn’t?

Shit. With a very human sigh, he leaned his forehead against a tree, and considered banging it there a few times. Although he’d like nothing better than to ride off into the sunset—and maybe find another Triumph Thunderbird to do it with—it looked like he was going to be babysitting a while longer. The decision prompted a burst of excitement from his wolf, and his tail wagged involuntarily.

At least one of us is frickin’ happy about it.

Baker couldn’t believe his luck. She hadn’t looked. The cold bitch hadn’t even looked.

Meredith had been so annoyed at the demise of her manicurist—Tina, he reminded himself. The poor woman’s name had been Tina —that she hadn’t bothered to examine the second body. His. Baker lay as still as death, and Meredith had been further distracted by Riley. Damn him for standing up to her, for not playing along to preserve his own life. Sometimes you had to pick your battles, fight another day and all that shit. But not Riley. After Meredith chewed his ass, literally, the guy had been more dead than alive, and the devil only knew where he’d been dragged off to.

Baker had maintained his corpse act even when the bitch queen had performed her perverse ritual. It had been damn hard. Just as he’d expected, she drew power from her initiates as surely as a fucking spider sucked the life from its prey. He’d felt the fingers of bloodred light crackle and hiss through the ash in the circle, felt the light crawl over him, invade him. It had pulled his energy from him as if it were a plant torn from the soil, its long, living roots extracted from every corner and crevice of his being. It was terrifying and painful, and it took everything he had to calm the animal he’d become, to explain to it that real death awaited if it so much as twitched. Afterward Baker didn’t have to feign death. He was a hollowed-out husk, passing in and out of consciousness.

During his last snatch of awareness, Meredith had become a great silver wolf again and led her mindless pack into the night. He had no idea where the zombified creatures were going, only that it was certain to end in innocent blood being spilled.

There was nothing he could do about it. His job was to make sure his own blood stayed right where it fucking belonged, and to do that, he had to get the hell out of here. Baker opened his eyes and blinked a few times before trying to sit up, which took a few tries. Discovery number one was that a wolfen body didn’t operate the same way—jeez, it didn’t even bend the same way—as a human body did. His head pounded horribly, and the world spun for a long, sickening moment before righting itself. He tried to get the ghastly taste of the thick white ash from his mouth, but that didn’t work. Discovery number two was that wolves couldn’t spit.