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But I don’t expect her scent. The one I’ve been chasing, the one I’ve been hunting. It isn’t mixed with blood—it’s just her.

I toss cash on the bar without a thought and leap to my feet. My heart pumps faster, the thrill of getting so close to my prize making my blood riot. My wolf is suddenly restless, too, pressing at my skin. He wants to be the one to sink his teeth into her skin, to pin her to the ground…

Outside, the street is empty.

I take a breath and listen. The forest pushes in at us, encroaching on businesses and homes and the tavern.

Did she go back to wherever she’s staying to pack? To flee? If she sensed me, she kept her cool. Her heartbeat didn’t fluctuate.

No.

My head whips to the left, and I stalk around the side of the building. My senses open up, stretching them past the noisy bar.

She went into the forest.

Why?

I jog through the trees until the tavern is out of my line of sight. It takes all my willpower to keep a tight grip on my wolf long enough to get my clothes off. And then he’s breaking past my barriers, erupting into fur and claws.

We smell her immediately. My wolf tips his head back and howls. The sound echoes in my ears, and I immediately miss the answering howls that would usually accompany me.

It’s a warning that the hunt is on, and if I was her, I’d be very afraid. I’ve never been on the receiving end of that threat, but I can imagine the fear. I’ve tasted it in our foes who came to a violent end at our claws and teeth. But it isn’t death that awaits her.

We lope through the forest. Our enhanced vision shows her tracks, but her scent is enough to follow her. She must be sprinting full-out to have disappeared so quickly. Which means she knew who I was. Something kept her in her seat at the bar, though.

I howl again, and the ache in my chest that wishes for my pack intensifies.

She’s prey. Simple as that. And she can only run for so long.

She leads me to a clearing, and I catch sight of movement through the trees on the other side. The sun is setting, casting the forest in strange, dancing shadows. Her blonde hair streams out behind her, the tie that held some of it back now gone. She doesn’t look back. She might hear us coming, but survival instincts drive her to just go faster

We stretch out, running now. My wolf enjoys this. His focus on her intense. He’s separate from me in that. I taste her fear and feast on it, while he analyzes the way she’s running, her muscles, weight shifting with every step. He almost knows where she’s going before she does. His movements in his body come naturally, as easily as walking on two legs is for me.

And then she’s there, just ahead of us. Her bag is gone, so it’s just her. Running like a scared little rabbit.

We leap and collide with her. She hits the ground hard and rolls, immediately trying to dislodge me. Her fight is a surprise—it’s not often we get that.

Witches tend to fight with magic, but few are trained to use their magic as a weapon strong enough to stop us. One-on-one, wolves have the upper hand.

But this girl…

She kicks into my belly hard, pushing my jaws away from her. The physical fight is what’s new to me—and what throws my drive into high gear. My growl rumbles through me, but it doesn’t do anything to still her. If anything, she comes at me harder. Shoving and squirming and kicking at me.

I’m giant, though.

I drop my weight, pinning her in place. My gaze catches on the leather cuff on her wrist, which reeks of magic. My lips automatically pull back in a silent snarl. It must go.

My teeth catch on it easily, and I rip it off.

With its removal comes disillusionment, and a ripple of power that seems to fall off her body. I barely register the huge witch Mark across her neck—my attention, and that of my wolf, is drawn to the jagged, bloody wound under it.

My wolf understands it, even if I don’t. And for the first time since he appeared within me, he flicks my control out. I’m thrust into the back of my mind, suddenly just a bystander. I don’t have time to speak before he acts.

He licks her wound.

There’s satisfaction seeping through him, satisfaction and some primal instinct that’s guiding his actions. Her blood coats our tongue, and we shiver with the pure power that floods us. Above all, there’s one word that echoes in my wolf’s thoughts.

Mine.