Four Days (Seven Series #4)

Jericho peeled off his socks. “Abso-fucking-not. You’re the Packmaster’s mate and the first person we protect.”

 

 

Denver was eavesdropping from the hall in front of the dining room. His blond hair was disheveled, and he didn’t have on a shirt. Hopefully he’d put it in the washer where it belonged. “In pirate terms, Lexi, that means you’re the booty,” he said with a charming smile.

 

I slipped on a pair of moccasin boots and a snug coat from the closet before following Jericho down the porch steps. The short grass crunched beneath my boots, and the open land stretched out in all directions for several acres before reaching the edge of the woods that boxed us in. We stopped a good ways from the house, and I glanced back to see Wheeler standing in front of an open window, his arms stretched up and holding both sides.

 

Jericho tucked a few silver rings inside his jean pockets. “If Reno comes out, tell him to stay close. It’s probably nothing, but sometimes rogue packs try to lure all the men away from the house. I doubt you’ll have to tell him this; he’s a tactical genius.”

 

Beneath the crisp moonlight, Jericho shifted into his wolf. He was an impressive creature with jade eyes and brown markings. He shook his head and lifted his nose, a fog of breath escaping his nostrils. I bent down and folded up his jeans, keeping his things together.

 

“Hurry, Jericho, so your wolf knows why he’s been summoned.”

 

Jericho the man still heard me in there, but wouldn’t for long. His wolf circled around me, turning in all directions and lifting scents from the breeze. His eyes were sharp and alert when he snapped his head to the right as if catching sight of something. In a flash, his wolf took off, kicking up a tuft of grass. I watched the muscles in his shoulders work hard as they propelled him to lightning speed.

 

I stuffed my hands in my pockets and the wind chilled my bare legs where the dress opened in the front. The fur-lined boots, however, kept my feet toasty warm. I grew up in Oklahoma where we had many an ice storm, so Austin was nothing in comparison.

 

Only four men and six women were on the property, three of them human. Denver would stay inside to protect Maizy, and Reno would want to protect his human mate. I heard the sound of sticks breaking in the woods—sounds that let me know someone was circling the property. I kept my eyes sharp, hoping Jericho’s wolf would either take him down or draw him into the open where I could identify his markings to our Packmaster.

 

Two eyes glowed in the inky shadows ahead of me. A sizable wolf emerged, his gait steady and his body crouched low with his tail vertical. I recognized the hunting position and pulled my hands out of my pockets when his lips curled back, a glint of moonlight on his razor-sharp canines.

 

Had he picked up my scent? Could he tell I was female? “You’re on private property.” The wolf understood my tone more than my words, and my tone was not welcoming.

 

When the shadows peeled away like a heavy blanket, the moonlight revealed a wolf I knew all too well. Terror gripped me, and my heart beat wildly against my chest.

 

Two unfamiliar wolves flanked me from the sides, keeping a distance of about thirty feet. I looked over my shoulder and saw Wheeler standing on the porch, taking off his shirt. Reno filled the doorway and I heard them arguing. Reno held rank over Wheeler, so hopefully he had the better plan.

 

Then in the distance yelping, ferocious snarls, and the battle cry of two wolves engaged in a death match erupted.

 

When I backed away another step, the wolf growled low in his throat. His red coat looked murky, like blood in the moonlight. I licked my dry lips and my eyes skated off in the direction where the fighting had broken out. These wolves made no attempt to go help their pack brother, and it was then I realized they were attempting to draw my pack away from the house. Jericho’s cries had become bait.

 

I glanced over my shoulder to see Reno holding a long rifle in his hand. Wheeler dragged a chair in front of the railing and the two were talking heatedly. Reno rested the gun on the balcony ledge, and I wondered if he had one of those telescope things on it. Reno carried a weapon because of his job as a private investigator, but he was also a man who had fought in many wars. A man who kept weapons locked in his closet.

 

The wolves on either side of me held their ground, and I met the eyes of the red wolf, who was still stalking in my direction.

 

This Shifter was no stranger to me.

 

He lifted his snout in the air and took in a deep breath. A pink tongue curled out of his mouth and wet his front teeth, but what had me on edge was the low growl that became a steady hum.

 

“What are you doing here, Fox?” I’d never known his real name, only that everyone compared his red coat to a fox. My father had always been a fan of nicknames. “You’re trespassing and you’re outnumbered from what I can see.”

 

Dannika Dark's books