He left, throwing the door open so hard it cracked against the plaster wall, then stomped through it, disappearing into the lodge.
I stared at my paperwork, but listened with a careful ear as I heard his boots thud across the wooden floor. I didn’t relax until I heard the front door open, and he stomped outside.
High pitched murmurs from outside my office tugged on my attention as I attempted to immerse myself back into paperwork.
Someone had burned something in the kitchen—bacon, it smelled like, because burnt bacon was a very sad and easily recognizable smell. Judging by the thick stench, it was soon going to set off the lodge’s fire alarms. The clang of pans being thrown on the counter as someone frantically flapped what sounded like a towel through the air, trying to clear the smell before the fire alarms could turn on, jarred my skull as I reread a line in my paperwork.
My stronger senses—stronger than even a regular werewolf’s due to my abundance of power—were sometimes a blessing and a curse.
My cellphone—lying innocently on top of my desk—erupted in a high-pitched ringtone that grated my nerves so badly I reacted—flinging the phone across the room—before I realized what I’d done.
I peered at the phone, hoping it might have survived the encounter.
It hit the floor with an ominous crunch and skidded a foot or two.
Even from my chair I could see the phone was cracked through the casing and had shattered the screen as well.
I leaned back in my chair, defeated by my own senses and tech that was all too breakable.
Another cellphone down. I’ll have to ask Aeric for yet another replacement.
I frowned, certain I’d turned the volume down on my phone—the ringtones always grated my ears as both a human and wolf, so I’d made it a habit to carry my phones on vibrate mode after I’d gone through my third one. But if I wasn’t careful with how I carried it in my pants pockets, they’d turn the volume up by themselves all while taking fascinating pictures of lint.
I hate phones.
I rubbed the back of my neck and glanced sideways across my desk.
I wanted to go for a run, or maybe rip a tree apart with my bare hands. I needed to get out.
I stood up, and the murmurs I heard outside turned into a squeal.
I stared at a crossbow that hung on my wall as I listened and discreetly scented the air.
The two female werewolves—the ones that had showed up earlier in the week the same day as the hunters—stood outside my office, giggling.
They’d been quiet when the door was shut, but apparently an open door was an invitation to gawk at me.
They’ve been hanging around for days. Why haven’t they left?
I didn’t like it when werewolves sniffed around Pack land, trying to prove to me that they were my mate. It was annoying—especially when they didn’t leave after first seeing me and knowing they obviously weren’t my missing mate.
I briefly rubbed the spot over my heart where the pain of my incomplete bond knifed deep before I caught myself.
So many wolves treat this infuriating situation like it’s something fun, and should be celebrated…I wish I could have rejected this ridiculous bond. Unfortunately, I could only do that if I actually found whoever had set it off.
The whole idea rankled me.
I didn’t want to be stuck with another wolf that I’d have to be on guard against all the time because of the level of my powers. I’d rather keep my moments of peace, bond with the Pack, and maybe schedule in a few extra sessions of teasing Pip for fun.
If she were like Pip, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
I considered the idea for a moment. With Pip, I could be myself—a seductive idea. But Pip was a hunter, and hunters were never, ever fated mates for a wolf. The same kind of magic they had that shielded them from an Alpha’s powers meant they’d never be able to form the close bond of a mate as well. It required a lowering of mental barriers that hunters couldn’t do.
Ahh, well. It was a fun idea.
I flexed my fingers and buried the desire to head out on a run or to shift and go for a hunt. If I left, the women would follow me.
But they’ve been here long enough. It’s time to get them to move on.
I could ask them to leave, but that would incite more giggles and a lot of rounds of talking. No, the fastest way to get rid of them was Pip.
Which would work in my favor. I could use a moment of relaxation. But if I wanted to hang around her longer than five minutes before she booted me out of her door, I’d have to take…measures.
I left my office door open, but slipped into the attached bathroom which was roomy enough to allow space for a shift.
Thirty seconds of white hot, bone crunching pain, and I was out of my human body and its many cares, free in my four-pawed, white wolf form.
While Pip detested my human presence—ironic, considering I had been brought to Timber Ridge because of her, even if she didn’t know it—she was much more tolerant of my wolf form.
I was pretty sure it was because of my eye-catching white pelt, but I’d used any advantage I had when it came to the obstinate hunter.
Getting out of the bathroom without opposable thumbs was a little difficult, but I’d perfected the art of smashing my nose down on the handle and pushing. Once I was freed, I trotted out of my office.
The visiting females abruptly went silent as I stalked through the lodge, slunk down the stairs to the main floor, and headed to the front of the lodge where I shouldered my way through an open window and hopped outside.
I was to the edge of the meadow when they scrambled outside, also in their wolf bodies, and ran after me.
I scoffed at them and ducked into the trees as they—acting like young puppies—howled their excitement and raced after me with the subtlety of a charging stag.
My ears flattened against my skull as I picked up my pace, making my way to Pip—and the break I sorely needed.
Chapter 9
Pip
I loved my cottage home. Quaint in size and built out of logs, it was a little like a cabin since it was surrounded by trees. A flower garden that was the result of decades of work done by my adopted parents added a splash of color to the outside, while the inside was cozy and bright.
It was also the home of the Bedevilments.
I stuck a ceramic food bowl that was decorated with pinecones and deer down in front of a plump cat. “Princess, this is your food. This. No, this.”
I tapped the ceramic bowl, but she was more interested in the ceramic platter I held in my other hand, which was shaped like a fish.
“Prince, this is for you.” I set the fish platter down in front of a similarly colored cat that sat about two feet away before I stood up and waited.
The nearly identical cats stared back at me. Mirror images of each other with gray fur and white chins and paws, Prince and Princess made a striking pair. Particularly because both were at least three or four pounds overweight—which for a cat is a lot.