Pack Justice (Nature of the Beast Book 1) (19 page)

Without the pain hampering me, I was able to sift through the other scents. My cheetah snarled in my head and hissed feline curses. In the time I had been her captive, Idette’s scent had been branded into my memory as something to hate.

Idette had dragged me away sometime after I had shifted from my cheetah form to a wolf. The memory of her breaking my leg and slamming me against a tree drew a growl out of me. Her red and gold furred leg was just beyond my reach. I wanted to close my jaws around the bone and break it as she had broken mine.

My growls, however, drained me of the little strength I had, and I fell silent, my gaze shifting back to the wolf prowling closer.

Black fur marbled through her pale coat. She ducked her head to protect her throat as she approached. She came in silence, and my wolf approved of the bitch’s behavior.

A hunting wolf was a quiet wolf, and while Idette growled, the rival bitch remained silent, pinning her ears back and baring her fangs. My spirit beasts watched through my eyes; all I could think about was the way the marbled wolf protected her throat.

I remembered my life bleeding out from Idette’s tearing teeth, and I shuddered.

Maybe I didn’t recognize the female challenging Idette, but I didn’t want her to share my fate. My hind leg wouldn’t support my weight, but my wife had moved within my reach. I bared my teeth, fixed my gaze on Idette’s leg, and bit down as hard as I could.

I tasted blood. I longed for the satisfying crunch of bone beneath my jaws, but Idette yanked away from me, leaving me with a mouthful of fur. My wife’s attention turned to me, and she snapped her fangs at my throat.

Terror surged through my cheetah, and in my desperation to avoid her bite, I twisted onto my back, lifted my foreleg, and jammed my paw into her mouth, stretching my neck so I could sink my teeth into her throat.

Instead of flesh, I bit down on fur.

The white and black wolf was no match for either me or Idette in size, but she made up for her small physique in brute force, slamming all of her weight into my wife’s flank. The two bitches rolled away from me, snapping and clawing in their determination to overpower the other.

I hadn’t hurt Idette nearly as much as she had hurt me, but the slashes I had inflicted on her muzzle remained, and the smaller bitch took advantage of the injuries, slapping her paw against the open wounds.

The fresh blood filling the air drove my spirit beasts into a frenzy, and their desire to join the smaller bitch in the fight surged. My broken leg refused to hold my weight, but I staggered to my paws, shuddering at the pain stabbing along the length of my spine to burst in my head.

I stood on three paws, snarling as I sought an opportunity to join in the fray. Idette slammed her shoulder into the smaller wolf, knocking her aside. The other bitch yipped, and the pained sound spurred my spirit beasts.

Idette’s back faced me, and while she had her head ducked to protect herself, she had either forgotten about me or didn’t believe I was a risk. Mindful of the fact a stiff breeze could probably knock me over, I planned on falling and taking my wife with me. I bit down on the thick muscle of her thigh and used my weight to drag her to the ground.

I dug my claws into her back and tore at her fur while the smaller wolf snapped and snarled. With my grip so weak, it didn’t take much for Idette to yank free, howling her fury. Surging back to her feet, she charged the marbled white and black wolf, who dodged to the side to avoid being flattened.

I expected the two bitches to engage each other again, but Idette ran deeper into the trees. Several faint cries answered her calling howl. In the time it took me to draw several shuddering breaths, the red and gold wolf vanished into the night.

The white and black wolf stared at me with her ears twisted back and her body tense. Blood dripped from her jaws, but I couldn’t tell if it belonged to her or Idette. She kept between me and Idette as though she expected me to get up and chase after my psychotic wife.

I feared I wouldn’t be free until Idette was dead, but I hoped the injuries I had inflicted on her as a cheetah warned her I would fight to my dying breath. When I could breathe without panting, I forced myself upright, hobbling on three legs while keeping a wary eye on the small wolf.

Her attention focused on my injured leg, which I held off the ground. I twisted my head around and wondered what she was thinking as she took in my blood-matted fur. The pain was intense enough I expected the bone to be visibly broken, but it wasn’t. My wolf urged me to clean my fur for a better look, and I obeyed, although I kept a careful watch on the small female.

Gashes marked my leg where Idette had grabbed and thrown me, but I had stopped bleeding. Relieved, I went to work licking away the evidence of my fight with my wife while I had been a cheetah.

Through the entire process, the white and black wolf kept quiet and still. The fury in her scent had faded, and there was something familiar about her, although I couldn’t quite place her scent.

If my spirit beasts knew, they remained quiet, their exhaustion worse than mine. Without any threats to keep them on edge, they fell into slumber, and I wished I could join them in sleep.

Without their guidance, I wasn’t really sure what my wolf nose was telling me. As a cheetah, I would have been better equipped to deal with the barrage of scents, but I hesitated to attempt a shift. I didn’t even know if I could rouse my spirit beasts enough to call on them for the transition.

I didn’t dare to become human again, either.

Until I knew what the small female intended, I couldn’t let my guard down or put myself in a position of weakness. The memory of illness coupled with not knowing how the transformation would affect my broken leg limited my options to staying a wolf until I could ensure my survival.

The thought of Idette working with a man like Douglass Roberts dismayed me. Had the man busted his way out of prison, or had my wife helped him with her knowledge of the prison system and the security maintained during prisoner transfers?

I had hunted her but killed him instead. I should have felt at least some remorse for my deed. I should have regretted my decision to end a human life.

Maybe my spirit beasts had changed me more than physically; I had a difficult time viewing Douglass Roberts as anything other than an eliminated threat or prey. I recognized the patterns Idette’s wolves had been dancing around the man, but unlike me, he was a willing conspirator rather than unwilling victim.

Roberts had wanted to become a werewolf—a Fenerec—by choice, but he had discarded his humanity long ago. I had, too.

I had been Idette’s victim instead of willing pawn. I couldn’t repay the debt I owed my wolf for what he had done, but I refused to waste his sacrifice. Surviving was only the beginning. For both my spirit beasts, and for myself, I would hunt Idette and her pack. I would no longer live in my wife’s shadows, bound by invisible chains of fear and uncertainty.

I would heal, I would fight again, and I would win.

Before my wolf had come along, killing a human had never been an option, which alarmed me almost as much as the knowledge I had already claimed a life. Killing Douglass Roberts had been so simple.

The world didn’t need more monsters in it.

I took my time grooming my fur, marveling over the many gashes I had survived. I didn’t even remember getting the majority of them. Most of the bleeding had stopped, leaving my broken leg as the worst of my injuries. Through it all, the white and black wolf watched me and kept her distance, her ears pricking forward when I ignored her presence.

After she lost interest and left, I would find a place to den and heal. I tested my leg, shuddering at the stabbing pain. Until I healed, I wouldn’t be able to hunt unless my prey decided it was tired of life and wandered into my open mouth. I turned my ears back and wondered how long it would take me to starve.

Once my spirits beasts roused, I would attempt to shift back to a cheetah. If transforming didn’t help the bone heal, I had no idea what I would do. A wolf who couldn’t hunt couldn’t survive.

The female continued to watch me in silence.

Without my wolf or cheetah offering advice, I had no idea what the female wanted. Unless she showed aggression, I decided it didn’t matter.

Survival came first, and the rest could wait. Walking on three paws hurt. I didn’t put any weight on the broken bone, but each step jarred my leg, and throbbing pain shot through me, triggering cascading waves of nausea.

The female followed me.

Uncertain what to make of her, I kept an eye on her while I hunted for a place to hide and rest. I should have driven her off, but instead, I breathed in deep to try to isolate her scent. Without my spirit beasts aiding me, it took several tries to identify her sweet spice.

There was something familiar about her scent, and I took several more breaths to commit it to memory. Although aware of Marcello’s claim Andrea was supposed to be my mate, I was intrigued by the wolf who had faced off against Idette.

Until I could hunt, water would be the difference between life and death, so I wandered until I found a stream weaving through the trees. High banks curved down to the rocky shore. I followed it until I located a spot where the waters had cut beneath the roots of an old tree, leaving behind a gap large enough for me to hide and heal. I whined at the thought of making the descent, but before I could lose my nerve, I hopped down, yipping when my weight landed on my injured leg.

I tumbled the rest of the way down and splashed into the stream. The cold water numbed me. I clawed my way to shore, shuddering as the chill soaked through my coat. Warbling complaints didn’t dry me or make the pain in my leg ease. Bracing my weight to shake hurt, but I managed. The female hopped down to join me with far more grace, and her tongue lolled out of her mouth in canine laughter.

Without the full use of my hind leg, I couldn’t expand the space I’d chosen, and sighing my resignation to my situation, I crammed myself as deep into the opening as I could. The female joined me, doing what I couldn’t to make enough space in the niche for her as well. I watched her work.

I fell asleep before she finished.

The next several days went by in a pain-filled blur. It wasn’t until both of my spirit beasts awoke I truly began to heal. Despite the close proximity of the water, I lacked the strength to crawl out of my hiding place and down the bank to drink.

I did emerge several times, but I stayed near my den, careful not to put any weight on my injured leg. The water tempted me each time, but I returned to my niche and curled up to wait until I no longer ached.

Through it all, I was aware of the female’s presence, although I paid her little attention. She spent her time either curled beside me in our hiding spot or pacing along the water’s edge, staring at me with glowing yellow eyes. She tried to coax me out a few times, but she gave up when I refused to move.

The moon had thinned to a sliver in the sky when the female left, climbing the bank to hunt. I listened and sniffed the air, and when I was certain I was alone, I crawled out of hiding as well, limping to the water’s edge.