The Bronson brothers were gathered at the starting line, sipping coffee and swapping insults. Jerrold stood apart from the group with his own men huddled around him, shooting threatening looks at everybody. Taylor was there, and Anita, Mandy and Chantelle had come for moral support.
“Prepare to get your asses kicked.” Grant gloated to his brothers.
“I’m prepared to stab my own eardrums out rather than listen to any more of your bragging.” Austin looked disgusted.
“Big deal,” Grant scoffed. “They’d grow back. Now stabbing yourself in the gut, that takes balls.”
“Boys,” Taylor said, “why don’t you just whip them out and measure them and get it over with?”
“I would, but I don’t want to make Austin and Cliff cry,” Grant said, and swaggered off.
Chantelle, Taylor and Anita exchanged glances that were part amusement, part exasperation.
“Would his eardrums really grow back?” Taylor asked.
“Oh, definitely. For someone with the Dominus strain, they’d grow back in a few days. For the average werewolf, they’d grow back in a few weeks.”
“So you’re what’s known as a healer, I’m told,” Chantelle observed. “Could you help them grow back faster?”
Anita scoffed. “Doing major healing is incredibly draining. If they stabbedthemselves?Bleed away, boys, mama’s got better things to do.”
The starting whistle blew, and the men shifted in a flash and ran into the woods.
The women wandered off. The finish line festivities would start up in about an hour. The men weren’t expected to return until at least noon.
Rusty and Truman, both carefully avoiding each other, followed Chantelle as the group of women trudged off to the downtown coffee shop. It was a twenty-minute walk from the edge of the forest back into town, but the weather was perfect, in the high sixties, and they chatted and joked as they walked.
Rusty and Truman each sat at different tables staring at Chantelle while the women got their drinks. They watched every step Chantelle took.
“How ridiculous is this?” Chantelle asked Taylor as they walked past Rusty’s table. “What would I do, try to walk out of here? The exit is gated and the woods are full of werewolves.”
“Should have thought about that before you trespassed on wolf land,” Rusty snapped.
Taylor pretended to trip and spilled her cup of coffee on his lap. He howled in pain and leaped to his feet.
“Excuse me, I’m so sorry,” Taylor said sweetly. “I meant to do that when the coffee was hotter.”
“Crazy half-werewolf bitch!” Rusty snarled, and hurried to the counter to get paper towels as Chantelle gasped with laughter.
Taylor took Chantelle aside. “You’re wearing a full face of makeup at seven in the morning. Foundation. Blush. Lipliner. Gloss. Mascara. You even contoured. Talk to me. Do you have a crush on Truman?”
Chantelle snorted and looked out the window. “There are handsome, sexy guys all over the place. Why wouldn’t I want to look my best?”
“Why are you avoiding looking me in the eye? You only do that when you’re lying.”
Chantelle looked back at her. “Oooh, I’m Taylor the human lie detector.”
“Actually, if we’re being accurate, I’m Taylor the werewolf lie detector. Quit avoiding the question, wench, because if you think— Hey!”
Anita was sprinting for the door.
She was a healer. Someone had been badly injured.
Taylor’s heart dropped to her shoes. Cliff?
She bolted after Anita.
Several men were waiting for Anita in a car idling at the curb. Anita leaped in and the car took off. Taylor and Chantelle, with Rusty and Truman on their heels, ran after the car, back towards the starting line, where Cliff’s men and Jerrold’s men were milling around, shouting at each other, furious.
