Dark Wolf Rising. Rhyannon Byrd
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to their demands that she leave the area immediately, and go back to wherever she came from.
Drawing in a deep breath, he searched for her scent on the heavy mountain air, but the bus was sealed tight, windows up. Whatever trace might have escaped through the window as she’d talked to the scouts earlier had been carried away by the howling wind sweeping through the forest, rustling the new spring leaves upon their branches, bringing with it the damp, humid promise of a storm. They were common enough this time of year in western Maryland, and after flicking a quick glance toward the thickening, bruise-colored clouds that marked the midnight sky like blotches of smoke, Eric realized he was going to end up soaked if he didn’t get a move on.
Shutting the truck’s door with a sharp snap, he ran a quick visual on the nearby area. One of the scouts, a Lycan named Franks, stood near the driver-side door of the Volkswagen. The guy kept a wary eye on the woman as the wind whipped his shaggy blond hair around his gaunt features, while the other scout hurried over to Eric, launching into a hectic, breathless explanation, his words stumbling over themselves in his haste to get them said.
“I’m sorry again for bothering you on a Friday night, sir, but she refuses to leave the area.”
“What has she said?” he asked, wishing he hadn’t just smoked his last cigarette.
“She showed us a picture of a young woman and asked if we’d seen her. After we told her that we’d never seen the girl, we tried to explain that she can’t stay here, but she insists that we can’t kick her off the property, and I’m afraid we didn’t know how to get her to leave without…um, that is, without…”
“It’s okay, Hendricks,” Eric murmured, trying to put the younger Lycan at ease. “You know we want all territory infractions called in, so you’ve done the right thing.”
The square-faced, spectacled Hendricks hadn’t needed to finish his stumbling explanation—Eric knew exactly what the problem was. It had been impossible for them to get rid of the woman without getting physical with her, or betraying their secret. The newly appointed scouts were clearly on uneasy, unfamiliar ground with this young female who was too stubborn for her own good.
Taking a few steps away from his truck, Eric ran one hand back through his short scrub of hair, then over the scratchy surface of his jaw. What in the hell did she think she was doing? It wasn’t safe for a woman to camp out by herself in the mountains, even if she was sleeping in her car.
Was she really searching for someone? Or was it just a scam? Given the whimsical bus, she could be one of those environmentalists looking to commune with nature, or whatever they called it. They’d had to deal with the type before. Or was she actually some kind of reporter trying to sniff out a story? God, the last damn thing they needed was a curious human snooping around the area. He and the Bloodrunners, the half-breed hunters whose job it was to hide the existence of their race from humans, as well as to hunt down those who turned rogue, already had their hands full working to get order reestablished up in Shadow Peak. Still mired in the process of forming a new government, the Silvercrest continued to deal with the emotional and physical wounds left over from the traumatic events of five months ago. Events that had left the pack without leadership, and reeling from a betrayal that had affected everyone from the adults who’d lost their lives down to the children who had been tragically orphaned.
Though once completely removed from the dealings in Shadow Peak, the Bloodrunners’ newly established position within the pack’s political structure put them in charge of Silvercrest security, with Eric working as the liaison between the pack and the Runners. After the recent treachery that had weakened their stability, courtesy of Eric’s father and his savage plans to take over the pack, the Silvercrest had been left in a vulnerable position. It was a frightening time, and the wolves were all too aware of the aggressive nature of some of their neighboring packs—especially the Whiteclaw wolves, who lived to the south of them. As a precaution, Eric and the Runners had been taking turns supervising the night watch, any suspicious or unusual activities being immediately reported by the scouts to the one in charge on any given night. Since they’d begun rotating the shift, Eric had been involved in a variety of dangerous situations, and was for the first time getting a taste of what life as a Runner was like.
“Did she give you a name?” he asked, noting how uneasy the scout seemed. Hendricks’s pale skin was flushed with color, his dark gaze repeatedly sliding from the ground to the sky, as if he was wary of looking directly at Eric’s face.
“No, sir,” Hendricks replied, slanting him a quick glance, and Eric struggled to keep his expression impassive. “To be honest, she’s…well…”
“She’s what?” he prompted, fighting down his impatience.
“She’s not exactly what you’d expect from a human female. I could scent her fear when we found her, and yet, she absolutely refused to back down.” Hendricks swallowed, the nervous movement visible in his throat. “She even pulled out a gun, saying that she’d shoot off our, um, manly parts if we dared to lay a hand on her,” he admitted, his voice thick with embarrassment…and an unmistakable note of relief that he was still standing there, said manly parts intact.
Eric choked back a low bark of laughter, somehow managing to hide his smile behind his hand as he coughed. But his humor faded as Franks came over to join them, the scout’s gaze swiftly focusing on something over his shoulder.
“Why don’t you wait over here and let me talk to her alone for a minute?” Eric suggested, wondering if he had food stuck in his teeth. Neither Hendricks nor Franks seemed capable of looking directly at him—but then, there weren’t many in the pack these days who were. Still, he’d expected better from these two, and he ran his tongue over his teeth just to be sure he was in the clear.
“Be careful,” they replied in unison, looking relieved to be passing the situation to him.
The milky glow of the nearly full moon caught his eye as Eric made his way toward the vehicle, and his beast gave a lazy stretch beneath his skin, his senses quickening with a primal rush, eager…almost desperate to hunt. He’d been so busy lately he’d ignored his predatory hungers, which was never a smart move—especially for a bloodline as powerful as his. As a dark wolf, the product of two exceptionally pure Lycan bloodlines, Eric’s natural cravings ran deeper than most, making the need for control even greater. He clenched his jaw, forcing the prowling animal deeper into his psyche. At the moment, he needed the calm, cool reasoning of the man—not the animalistic aggression of his beast.
But being cool and calm didn’t seem to be on the agenda for the night.
As Eric approached the driver-side door, the woman shifted slightly, giving him his first clear view of her face, and his muscles tightened with a jolting, slam-him-into-the-ground kind of surprise. For some reason, probably because of how Hendricks and Franks were acting, he hadn’t expected the woman to be so…well, soft-looking. Even attractive. But she was. She had the kind of beauty that crept up on a guy, making him want to keep staring…searching, noting new discoveries as he mapped out the finely sculpted contours, one by one. The full lower lip was only part of a lush, pink mouth that begged for the carnal aggression of a kiss…among other things. Things he had no business thinking about doing with a perfect stranger, not to mention a human one.
So get your bloody mind out of the gutter and stay focused! his conscience muttered.
Determined to continue his appraisal with a more critical eye, Eric searched for her first flaw, but failed to find one. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but she was pretty, in a wholesome, appealing way. Her face was somewhat round, with a small nose and sweeping brows that arched over big blue eyes. Instead of making her look childish, the delicate features gave her an air of womanly innocence that would catch any man’s attention. That made him want to be the one to corrupt her…to open those bright blue eyes to things that were warm and wet and undeniably wicked. To the harder, more primal angles of pleasure.
And there you go slumming around in the gutter again.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, wondering what was wrong with