And I let the animal assume control, easing into a meditative state as my wilder half surges to the front.
As I plunge into the woods, the pack follows behind, us all running for the joy of freedom. My paws press into soft soil, coated in pine needles. Small animals skitter over dried leaves, fleeing into their dens to avoid the hunters sprinting through the trees.
For a time, we simply charge forward, stretching our muscles, panting in cool, fresh air found high in the mountains.
But the wolf in all of us longs for a hunt.
I sense my uncle Mason off to my left. His attention splits from the pack’s, a scent caught in his nose. Veering off to join him, I discover the same. Musk and heat, with traces of wary fear.
We stalk forward, soundless, eventually coming upon the heard.
Mule deer, the human part of me identifies.
Food, my wolf agrees.
Some of the pack followed our hunting trail while others continued to run in celebration of the moon. The ones behind me slink closer, and together, we stalk the prey, eventually breaking out from the underbrush to cause a controlled chaos. Easily, we bring down the weakest of the herd.
Blood is rich iron, warm and delicious on my tongue. With crimson dripping from my muzzle, I raise my head in a triumphant howl.
All around me, my pack members join in the song.
And for the moment, I let the troubles of my human half fade into the shadows.
17
JULIET
Like every full-moonnight since I fled Bear Valley, I can’t sleep.
Whenever I close my eyes, nightmares descend. Random images of monsters creeping from the shadows. Creatures with fangs that drip blood. They’re always inches away from tearing into me when I bolt upright in bed. Not for the first time, I check every window and door in the house to make sure my home is locked up tight.
Not that a simple dead bolt could stop Cory. With his supernatural strength, he could eventually tear through any window or door. The alarm would go off though, and the authorities would come. And even if the entire police force is made up of werewolves that don’t care about humans, I know they care about one thing.
Territory.
That’s the whole reason I chose to escape to Pine Falls—another small town with a werewolf pack—rather than trying to lose myself in a big city.
Living with a werewolf, I learned a lot of their rules. Including the fact that pack leaders have some magical connection to their territory that immediately alerts them to the fact that a strange wolf has crossed the boundary. If that happens, the pack descends on the intruder in a fury.
Wolves never cross pack lines. Not unless they gain permission first. And Cory would never ask to come to Pine Falls. He disdains the Pine Falls wolves. Told me so one night when I asked him if there were other packs in the country—it was still early on in our relationship, when I didn’t worry about asking the wrong question. Turns out, there’s a decent amount, at least two others in Utah alone. When he ticked a few off on his fingers, Pine Falls was the last he named with a sneer on his face.
“You’re not a fan of Pine Falls?” I asked.
“Fuck no. They kicked my dad out. Their alpha was scared of him. Knew how strong he was.” Cory’s face took on a dark cast. His parents had died before I met him, buried in an avalanche while hiking in the mountains. “My dad would have become alpha when that fucker died. But no. He had to settle for beta here. Some other asshole is in charge there now.” He scoffed. “Bet he’s just as big of a pushover. Probably can’t tell wolves from humans in that place anymore.”
Took me too long to realize Cory’s snarling about unfairness was one more hint at his toxic personality. And when I made the choice to flee, Pine Falls sounded like the perfect hideout.
Cory would expect me to run to a big city, probably back to the East Coast. On my laptop, I left a search history of foreign countries and the cost of plane tickets and information about passports.
He has a wild goose chase that’ll occupy him for years if he decides to look for me. Meanwhile, I’m one state over, tucked behind a neighboring pack’s uncrossable territory lines.
Why would a woman running from a werewolf hunker down with more werewolves?
Because to defeat a monster, you need another monster.
After I’m once again sure that everything is locked up tight, I glance at the clock above my stove—2:00 a.m.
Even if I could be sure of no more nightmares, I’m too amped up to sleep.
