But before he did so, Caleb made sure his brother would stand guard in his stead. It involved a conversation that might have made more than a few humans blanch.
“I gotta go on the prowl and see what I can find out about that lizard thing lurking around,” Caleb told Constantine after having tucked Luke in and saying goodnight to Renny—which involved more kissing and even bluer balls.
“You want me to curtail my evening of alcoholic debauchery to babysit?”
“Yeah.”
Constantine shrugged. “Okay. But I’m telling you right now, if something pays us a visit, I’m not holding Princess back.”
Casting a glance at the rat, who wore a pink bow today in her fine hair, Caleb smirked. “Sure, let the hound of hell loose. I’m sure your hairball will do a fine job hobbling any attackers with a rabid gnaw of their Achilles tendon.”
“Laugh all you want, but she actually goes for the ankles so she can get her prey to bend over and present their jugular. Princess believes in going for the killing shot.” Said with such pride.
Grrr. A tiny lip pulled back, a murderous glare entered those giant eyes, and her ears pointed in aggressive fury.
“There is something seriously deviant about that dog,” Caleb said as he glanced again at Princess.
“I know.” Constantine beamed. “Pure perfection.”
At the words, Princess yipped, but Con missed the canine smirk on her tiny muzzle.
Much as I hate to admit it, that’s one fucking smart appetizer.
With that kind of protection left behind for his family, Caleb stripped and walked naked to the edge of the bayou. He dipped a toe in the brackish water, delaying the inevitable. The water was fine. The humming mosquitoes didn’t bother him. Not even the mud.
It was the other he dreaded.
So long since he’d allowed his feral side to rise. Months since he’d felt the gnawing ache of the hunger, the thrill of the beast as it pursued its prey. The chomp of—
He clamped his eyes shut. But for once, he couldn’t stop the feelings. The alien thought process of his beast merged with his consciousness.
Remember what the shrink said.
Don’t fight your animal side.
Don’t equate what you do while shifted with who you are.
We are hunters. And hunters don’t just chase their prey. Sometimes they eat them, too. It’s the nature of life.
A life Caleb had tried to deny, worried that there was something wrong with him, that his monster took too much pleasure in the death of others.
But other than that first mistake, had he truly ever lost absolute control? The rest had all deserved what he dished.
Still, it only took one major mistake to fuck me over.
How much worse if the next fuckup happened to Renny or Luke?
But he couldn’t think that way. Not now when he needed his senses sharp.
Tonight we hunt.
The lukewarm water bathed his scaled skin, and if a croc could sigh, his did. How he’d missed the smooth glide of his powerful body through the silky swamp. Vegetation tickled his underbelly, the waving fronds not impeding his progress. His sensory spots along his jaw fed him further information—temperature, current, the fact that this water lacked salt.
Maybe once this was over, he’d take his family to the beach. A day spent soaking in the sun and briny water, with Renny in a bikini.
His pleasant fantasy didn’t stop him from doing his task.
Tail swishing, Caleb zigzagged across the submerged parts of the wetland. When he had to, he did a belly run across the ground, startling the smaller rodents into hiding.
Thankfully, his reptile did not feel a need to stop for a snack. He’d made sure to have a large dinner so his snaggletoothed side wouldn’t be tempted.
With that fear quelled, he found a lot more enjoyment in the bayou search. He spent hours crisscrossing the marshy acres between his house and the Bittech Institute. Nothing. Nothing. Ooh, fresh turtle eggs. Nothing.
He was just about to call it quits when he detected it. Another large predator.
Inching up onto the muddy shore, Caleb stayed low, his belly brushing the ground as he took in the situation. He crept forward, frame held high enough to not drag and alert his target. He slitted his eyes, filtering the ambient starlight to guide his steps.
Silently, he moved, the predator facing away from him, upwind, providing a tempting target. Caleb opened his mouth wide, his long, extended snout ridged with sharp teeth. He snapped it shut with a clack.
Wes didn’t even jump. “Dude, you are seriously loud. Like my brother”—a bull gator—“in a china shop. Did you really think I wouldn’t hear you coming?”
It took but a moment to shift shapes, a gasping process that he didn’t really enjoy. The youngsters always asked as they approached those puberty years, “Does it hurt?”