"Damn bastard," Hunter whistled through clenched teeth while moving at a dead run. Blood, metallic and pungent assailed his sensitive nose. Not much blood, he thought as he again sniffed the air. Maybe Tice was still okay. "Always impatient."
Close, just not close enough. With quick agile moves, he stripped off his clothes to prevent them from tearing as his transformation began. Hunter's muscles loosened, thickened, began to physically change. Pain shot through his adrenaline-driven body. He collapsed to the sidewalk, movement impossible as his body morphed. Muscles shortened. Power compacted to increase strength. Black silver tipped hair pushed through pores of sweat soaked skin. Hunter's jaw stretched outward. Bones cracked like dry twigs. He howled in agony.
"Damn." The single word emanated from his mouth a growl, primal and raw. "Why didn't he wait?"
Hunter's senses sharpened. Smells wafted toward him: bath water scented with roses, sweat from a couple screwing, and Tice's blood. Eyes searched the night. The effort wasted for all he could see was the capital building. In the shadows of the marble and granite, adrenaline surged power through his system in a cool quenching flood. Again, bones rent and mended in a painful symphony. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes to wait out the change from a six-foot plus frame to wolf.
Impatience coursed through him as he waited. He would be too late. The stench of blood and death grew stronger. In his gut, Hunter had known Tice's plan to catch the killer was weak and still he acquiesced. Hunter took the time, the precious few moments that now seemed a mistake, and called in the others from the Northern Pack while Tice snuck out so arrogant and self-assured.
Frustration and rage ripped through him, the transformation too slow this night. He howled a long mournful cry as the scent of death filled his every nerve. Tice lost his life to an unseen enemy. At a full run, Hunter followed his sensitive nose.
The lifeless mound in the middle of the park was a morbid statue to the fate of his friend. Hunter refused to run to Tice to affirm the obvious. Endorphins, sweat and fear mixed together in an evil concoction that belied the closeness of the killer. Hunter searched the night with sharp eyes. Nothing. Twigs snap a hundred yards away and feet pounded the earth. Vibrations traveled to his paws to give direction and speed. Head down, Hunter began to slip in and out of shadows in search of prey.
The natural instincts took over as Hunter settled into the natural cadence of hunting prey. Mindless as the process was for him, he wished for the rest of the pack, his friends, his family. Strength in numbers, power in loyalty, safety as friends watched for dangers one alone may miss. Endowed with the skills of the wolf, he was still human and prone to lapses in judgment. Hunter would answer to the pack for allowing Tice to slip out on his own.
The sound of sneakers on the ground at a dead run filled his ears. The distance between them closed as he ran on four strong legs. The man ran as if the devil himself were behind him. Hunter howled. The man in front of him froze. The scent of terror filled his snout and cheered his soul.
Hunter set his legs and bared his teeth. He studied the older man in front of him. Body odor smacked him in the face and he cursed his sense of smell. The man's torn jeans and dirty red flannel shirt was far too warm for July, the man looked homeless. Sharp, intelligent blue eyes stared back at him. The man was terrified but no fool.
"Nice doggie. Easy boy." The man backed away while facing Hunter. "Nice doggie. Big doggie. Good boy."
Hunter released a low growl. Dark and dangerous, he moved forward. The man pulled out a gun as if that could ward Hunter off. He wanted to tear the man's throat out. In human form, he is able to control the basic instincts of the animal part of him. As a wolf, those instincts intensified to dangerous levels. He found the urge to rip the man apart barely controllable. Patience. He would bide his time, fight the urge. The man before him held answers he needed. Answers the pack needed about the slayings of others.
)
Belen Cass is a reporter desperate to identify a killer and launch her career. A fourth body leads to the quiet Myles Hunter. Can she trust him? Myles Hunter, private investigator, knows what links the victims. Can he catch a killer without being accused? What should he do about Belen?
