Hunted

The jaunty tune rang out again, demanding attention, and promising nothing good at such an early hour. Finally stirring, Holbrook reached out, lifting the cell phone to his ear.

 

“Agent Holbrook,” he answered, not at all sounding as though he had just been awoken from a dead sleep. It was a skill that I was instantly jealous of.

 

Rather than listening to whoever was on the other end of the line I burrowed deeper into the curve of his arm, relishing the soft touch of his fingers trailing along my spine. I refused to let the outside world intrude on this small piece of normalcy I had managed to carve out for myself.

 

Fate, it seemed, had other ideas.

 

I was drifting back to sleep when Holbrook tensed beside me, the sourness of anxiety overriding the sugary scent of his skin. His movements were stiff as he set the phone back on the bedside table with controlled gentleness.

 

“Don’t say it,” I whispered.

 

“Riley…”

 

Dread settled as a cold weight in my stomach, my eyes warming with the threat of tears.

 

“How many?”

 

He didn’t answer at first, running a hand over his face.

 

“How many?” I asked again.

 

“Three,” he answered with a sigh, his voice tinged with remorse, and also something else I had hoped to never hear in his voice. Pity.

 

I chocked back the bitter anger that flared to life at hearing that tone. “Tell me.” I barely recognized the roughness of my voice.

 

“Riley…” The soul-deep weariness in his voice forced my eyes open.

 

I sat up and angled my body to face him, giving little thought to my nakedness as the sheets piled in my lap. “Please, Darius. I have to know.”

 

Sighing, he sat up, and moved back to lean against the headboard. The tense muscles in his shoulders flexed as he ran a hand through his hair before slumping in resignation.

 

“Three victims. A group of hunters in Rio Grande National Forest,” he said, watching me closely.

 

Tears welled heavy and unbidden, stinging my eyes as I fought against the fear smothering the breath in my throat. Instead I focused on the anger that was blooming white hot in my chest.

 

“There’s more. Riley, he—”

 

“I need to get out,” I said, cutting him off.

 

Throwing back the covers I rose from the bed to pace back forth in front of the TV. Loki watched me through slit eyes from his spot on the other bed, his violet gaze tracking my frantic footsteps.

 

“I can’t stay here,” I muttered, more to myself than the room’s other occupants. Ignoring my lack of clothes I stalked towards the door.

 

“Riley, wait,” he said, rising from the bed and quickly pulling on his Jockeys and jeans. “You can’t leave. It’s not safe.”

 

“No, I need to get out. I can’t be here right now,” I panted as tremors rippled through my body. I could feel the wolf already rising, my anger and fear fueling her need to run free.

 

“Don’t,” Holbrook pleaded, the sudden vulnerability in his voice making me pause with my hand on the door handle.

 

Unable to meet his eyes, I could only whisper, “I’m sorry.”

 

Yanking the door open, I was momentarily blinded by the bright morning sun, and then I was running, the cold air rushing over me, whipping against my bare skin as the change came on, fast and full of ecstasy. I heard the sound of Holbrook’s bare feet slapping on the pavement as he tried to chase me, tried to draw me back to the safety of the room, but it was too late. The wolf was emerging, and she wasn’t going to be pushed down again.

 

I was fully wolf when I hit the edge of the forest behind our chalet, slipping into the shadows with ease. It wasn’t my forest, but the tangle of scents that filled my nose were familiar and comforting. The sweetness of pine surrounded me, overlaying the crisp scent of fresh snow and a clear, cloudless sky. Beneath it all was the dark, musty scent of damp earth and rotting leaves, and, deeper still, the mouthwatering aroma of small furry bodies filled with blood that would pulse hot and coppery against my tongue.

 

My paws flew over the ground as I moved through the trees in a flash of fur, letting the wolf override everything and push away my fear and fury. The wolf wanted to hunt, but I just wanted to run, to have the ground slide by beneath my feet. I cut through the trees, moving over rocks and downed logs as if they didn’t exist, the wolf’s acute senses letting me fly.

 

I ran until the sounds of civilization were just a memory, until the stink of humanity no longer invaded my nose, and the worries of my human life had been stripped away by the cool wind rippling through my fur.

 

A.J. Colby's books