Pack Justice (Nature of the Beast Book 1) (17 page)

I needed to run. After closing the door of the bedroom, I paced around the confined space, halting often to stare at the lone window. It was large enough to let in a decent breeze, but I couldn’t squeeze through it and neither could my wolf.

My cheetah, however, could.

Running as a wolf had its own pleasures, but nothing matched the speed of a cheetah, and I missed the way the ground flowed beneath my paws. As a cheetah, I could outrun the wind, and the need to escape the strict, rigid structure of society closed in around me.

I had never been truly human anyway. I was no different from Idette, although I was a rogue of a different sort, padding through the world undetected. That I shared the world with other predators was as much of a curse as it was a blessing.

Slipping out of my bathrobe, I tossed it onto the bed, shoved the window as open as it would go, and stared out into the night. Distant lamps illuminated patches of grass, and beyond the yard, a forest of thin trees waited for me. The still quiet of somewhere remote, broken only by the far off cries of animals, promised the space I needed to be free of the human concerns I wasn’t ready to face.

For a while, I’d leave it all behind and simply run until I couldn’t any more. When fatigue caught up with me, I’d skulk back to civilization and slip in before dawn, leaving the Fenerec unaware of my temporary escape.

Tomorrow, I’d try again to understand my changed world. Maybe I’d figure out what I had done to earn Andrea’s loathing. Maybe Marcello thought I meant something to the defense attorney, but I had heard the disapproval in her voice and had seen the displeasure in her expression.

In her eyes, I belonged to a different world, and she didn’t welcome me in hers.

As a cheetah, I could run away from that, too, at least for a little while. Maybe my wolf wanted me to win the woman and make her mine, maybe my cheetah wanted me to openly adore her as he did, but I would never allow myself to fall to Idette’s levels.

I knew too well what it was like to be hunted. As I had from the first time I had seen Andrea in court, I carefully boxed up my interest in her and shoved it into the darkest recesses of my mind.

My spirit beasts could content themselves with their interest in her. As for me, I would run for as long as my wolf and my cheetah allowed. I could always change my mind if Andrea did.

That concession was enough to appease my spirit beasts. When I drew on my cheetah so I could assume his form, my wolf went with me, and I welcomed him, so he might feel the joy of being a living wind racing across the land.

My wolf’s cooperation and my cheetah’s eagerness eased the transition from man to feline, and I sighed my relief at the relatively painless change. Stretching out the stiffness in my muscles came first, and when I could move without wincing, I jumped through the window, soared over the rosebushes circling the building, and landed in silence. The grass under my paws would hide the evidence of my passage, and I headed out, lashing my tail at the overabundance of human scents.

The cinnamon belonged to the Fenerec, I decided, and it annoyed me it marred my feline’s gentle musk. My cheetah didn’t mind; the scent reminded him of Andrea.

I growled, long and low, until my cheetah surrendered and his presence retreated. Later, I would worry about the woman with a wolf’s spirit.

The night was no longer young, and I hungered.

I prowled to the woods, slinking through the grass on my belly, careful to keep my movements slow and smooth to avoid catching the attention of predator and prey alike. The graceful movements had been the first thing my cheetah had taught me the first time I had assumed his form. The hunt hadn’t ended well for us, but I had learned.

I no longer needed his guidance for the hunt, although I welcomed him and my wolf to share in the thrill of stalking for prey. Despite being so close to the den of predators, the forest was alive with animals, and I slaked my hunger with a few mice unfortunate enough to cross my path.

The dire need for sustenance gnawed at my belly, driving me to hunt larger prey. If luck was with me, I’d come across a herd of mule deer or a stray boar.

Either would provide me with a challenge and satisfy my hunger.

Once I was far enough into the trees the only evidence of the sprawling house behind me was a glimmer of light, I abandoned my prowl for a lope. I wouldn’t do a chase until my body warmed and I wasn’t so stiff, or I would regret it as a human for days to come.

The phantom pains of injuries sustained as a cheetah lasted a long time.

To my cheetah’s nose, the musk of deer blended with the sharper stench of the rutting bucks, and a shiver of anticipation swept through me. I dropped to my belly, the tip of my tail twitching as I followed my nose in the direction of the herd.

The prevalence of the scents warned me they had the advantage of numbers, a risk for a lone hunter such as myself. My wolf’s eagerness for the hunt was tempered by my cheetah’s demand for patience. My spirit beasts squabbled in my head, annoying a low growl out of me before they settled and observed my approach, although their anticipation fed my own desire for the thrill of the chase.

Hunting as a lone wolf involved equal parts patience and luck, waiting for an animal to isolate itself from the group. Hunting as a feline was different because of my sharp claws. If I couldn't frighten the herd into bolting, I would harass them, darting in to slash open their hides and fill the air with the smell of blood. The shallow marks I left behind weren't enough to kill them, but they were ideal for my needs.

Once one bled, it became so much easier to goad them into flight.

When they ran, and they would, I would be in my element. I would rake open the hindquarters of my prey, clawing at its warm hide until I reached its throat. I would tear open the tender part of its neck until its life fled its body.

I would feast and leave only bones and offal behind for the scavengers.

I abandoned the burden of my human ways and hunted.

Chapter Thirteen

I thinned the herd and devoured every scrap of meat, leaving bone and little else in my wake. When the dawn illuminated the eastern sky, my wolf and cheetah stirred, and I reassured them.

My stomach was full. I had hunted well and long, sating the gnawing cramp of my hunger. Grooming the evidence of my success from my fur, I watched the sunrise. My cheetah wanted to return to the woman we had left behind in the house surrounded by roses.

My wolf wanted to prove we were worthy of her, and the lust for the hunt surged.

Wolves didn’t tolerate competition for mates. Until I rid myself of the one who had made me into one being with my spirit beasts, I couldn’t make Andrea mine. My wolf’s desire was strong, the clearest emotion I’d yet sensed from him.

He wanted Andrea in all ways, as did my cheetah, but it fell to me to win her for us.

Removing the threat of the rival female likewise fell to me, for it was my fault she plagued me. She had violated the honor of wolves by forcing my wolf to bond with me when he wasn’t ready—when I wasn’t ready.

I was the only one who could execute pack justice, and if I took the hunt to her, I could ensure she wouldn’t harm Andrea.

My prey had a name, and it was Idette.

To kill Idette, I needed to find her. When my wolf’s fury abated enough for him to communicate with me, he surprised me with the strength of his confidence. He knew where to find the one who had turned us into a union of man, wolf, and cheetah.

Until my wife was dead, I would thrive as a beast and kill her as she had meant to kill me. The underlying worry Idette would hunt Andrea drove me on. My wolf lent me his endurance and my cheetah lent me his speed. I raced from the forests and chased the rising sun until it hung high overhead.

Idette was to the east. When I could no longer rely on the sun to orient me, I relied on my wolf. It tired him homing in on Idette, and he loathed every time I needed him to guide me.

I slowed only to hunt, and on the third day, I transitioned from cheetah to wolf, satisfying my wolf’s need to run in his shape. In the back of my head, I was aware I needed to eat more. My cheetah’s body couldn’t sustain the way I abused it, and my wolf was a far larger beast. I lost weight, and my fur thinned despite the chilling air.

I stayed a wolf for several days, and the entire time, I fought his desire to den and mate. With my cheetah’s help, I won the dispute despite my cheetah’s equal desire to return to the den we had left behind.

Idette posed too much of a risk to the female we intended to claim as our mate.

My pace slowed as I took more time to hunt, concentrating most of my efforts on thinning deer herds until my fur grew in sleek and glossy. Whenever I drew close to the acrid fumes of human inhabited lands, I retreated back into the wilds, growling.

Humans would stop me from what I needed to do. They wouldn’t care if a pair of wolves fought and one died, but if Idette was a human, they would hunt me as I hunted her. The cold logic of the human part of me stung.

As long as I hunted Idette when she was a wolf, no one would care. Then I would be free to den and mate.

I worked my way east and north, trusting my wolf to find our prey.

The nights grew long and cold, and the bite of snow on the wind filled my lungs with every breath. My wolf anticipated the winter and welcomed it, and his eagerness to mate so we might have puppies for the spring and summer infected me. Our potential mate was somewhere far away, and I buried every memory of her so she wouldn’t distract me from what I needed to do.

My world narrowed to the hunt. As the full moon hung heavy in the night sky, wolves sang in the distance. While my wolf’s shape called to me, I prowled as a cheetah.

Idette would fall to my fangs and claws as a gift to the wolf who had saved me on my cheetah’s behalf. Once her body cooled and I left her to the scavengers, I would court the female we so desired.

Cheetahs couldn’t howl as wolves could. The yowl I loosed was as close as I could get, short and loud, and I chirped as the sound died away although I knew it was pointless.

I had neither pack nor family, and there were neither puppies nor cubs to answer my cries.