from the north-east. She could scarcely breathe. She struggled to get
up.
****
Back at the mansion, Damon
paced Valerie’s room while Angela stood on the terrace, staring out into the
night. As usual, he identified with his wife’s dread, took it on, and added it
to his own. And as much as he hated to
admit it, she was right. They couldn’t lock Valerie up no matter how much they
wanted to. He glanced at the clothes on the floor. Clearly, the curse had hit
his baby once again full-bore. He
worried about her white coat and hunters. But not as much as he feared Reeves
showing up disguised as a friend—or perhaps pulling a sneak attack as a wolf. Even
the knowledge that Hugh was tailing her failed to give him comfort. He thought
about gathering a search party, but those he trusted weren’t readily available.
Rick with his Indian blood and ability to track swiftly was still on honeymoon
with Victoria , and Deeto was in Mexico chasing an escapee for the bounty.
“I’m going after Valerie,”
Damon said.
“She could be anywhere in
the hills. And then I’d have to worry about you, too.”
He strode to the gun
cabinet. “I can’t just do nothing .”
Angela’s eyes widened. “What’s
the gun for?”
“I’m going into the
hills—who knows the trouble that might crop up.”
Fear flickered in her eyes. “Even
if you locate Valerie, in her wolf form, she can outrun you and get away
again.”
“I still have to try.”
“I’m going with you.”
Damon wanted to say no, but she
might be in more danger if he left her home with only Kyle to watch after her. “You’ll
have to keep up,” he said, gruffly.
Chapter Seven
Valerie watched Brian leap to his
feet, growling and baring his incisors. The hackles around his neck and
shoulders resembled porcupine quills. He crouched low, splayed his ears
sideways, and issued a low, throaty growl. His eyes glowed like hot coals. His
ferocious look should have frightened off the antagonistic wolf, but it only
seemed to fuel his anger. Valerie shifted her gaze back and forth between her
alpha protector and their slobbering foe. Trembling and unsteady, she struggled
to her feet. With a gripping sense of rising panic, she growled and mimicked
her alpha wolf’s defense posture.
The threatening wolf curled his lips and leapt from
the rock. He sailed through the air and pounced on them like a two-hundred
pound sack of hardened cement, his gleaming incisors bared. Both she and Brian
thrashed about to stop the crazed wolf from closing his jaws on their throats. Brian
rolled, taking her with him, then he shoved her out of
the way. He leapt to his feet and the two wolves circled, squared off, gazes
focused on each other, piercing, deadly.
While they circled, she noticed the
crazed wolf’s slimy coat had a bald spot indicating a recent battle. Was this
the killer wolf that had attacked Uncle Hugh?
Brian would want her to run and save herself, but
this time she would not run—would not leave him alone to fight her battles. She
vowed not to give up on him or herself.
While Brian fought the wolf, muzzle to muzzle and
blocked bite for bite, she jumped up on the wolf’s back and dug her incisors
into his neck near the other recent bite. The deafening rumble of the three of
them growling echoed for miles. The big wolf thrust himself against a boulder
and knocked her off his back. The forceful slam resulted in her coming loose
with a mouth full of acrid skin and slimy fur. She spit out the nasty stuff and
watched for a chance to get back into the action.
A cloud eclipsed the moon and under
the waning light, the bodies of both male wolves morphed to werewolves. Their
faces remained wolfish but their hairy, muscular bodies stood upright, slightly
bent and leaning forward like apes. Her alpha wolf held his arms a foot away
from his hairy body, feet somewhat apart. Although he was the smaller, leaner
werewolf of the two, the span of his shoulders appeared at least an inch
up.
****
Back at the mansion, Damon
paced Valerie’s room while Angela stood on the terrace, staring out into the
night. As usual, he identified with his wife’s dread, took it on, and added it
to his own. And as much as he hated to
admit it, she was right. They couldn’t lock Valerie up no matter how much they
wanted to. He glanced at the clothes on the floor. Clearly, the curse had hit
his baby once again full-bore. He
worried about her white coat and hunters. But not as much as he feared Reeves
showing up disguised as a friend—or perhaps pulling a sneak attack as a wolf. Even
the knowledge that Hugh was tailing her failed to give him comfort. He thought
about gathering a search party, but those he trusted weren’t readily available.
Rick with his Indian blood and ability to track swiftly was still on honeymoon
with Victoria , and Deeto was in Mexico chasing an escapee for the bounty.
“I’m going after Valerie,”
Damon said.
“She could be anywhere in
the hills. And then I’d have to worry about you, too.”
He strode to the gun
cabinet. “I can’t just do nothing .”
Angela’s eyes widened. “What’s
the gun for?”
“I’m going into the
hills—who knows the trouble that might crop up.”
Fear flickered in her eyes. “Even
if you locate Valerie, in her wolf form, she can outrun you and get away
again.”
“I still have to try.”
“I’m going with you.”
Damon wanted to say no, but she
might be in more danger if he left her home with only Kyle to watch after her. “You’ll
have to keep up,” he said, gruffly.
Chapter Seven
Valerie watched Brian leap to his
feet, growling and baring his incisors. The hackles around his neck and
shoulders resembled porcupine quills. He crouched low, splayed his ears
sideways, and issued a low, throaty growl. His eyes glowed like hot coals. His
ferocious look should have frightened off the antagonistic wolf, but it only
seemed to fuel his anger. Valerie shifted her gaze back and forth between her
alpha protector and their slobbering foe. Trembling and unsteady, she struggled
to her feet. With a gripping sense of rising panic, she growled and mimicked
her alpha wolf’s defense posture.
The threatening wolf curled his lips and leapt from
the rock. He sailed through the air and pounced on them like a two-hundred
pound sack of hardened cement, his gleaming incisors bared. Both she and Brian
thrashed about to stop the crazed wolf from closing his jaws on their throats. Brian
rolled, taking her with him, then he shoved her out of
the way. He leapt to his feet and the two wolves circled, squared off, gazes
focused on each other, piercing, deadly.
While they circled, she noticed the
crazed wolf’s slimy coat had a bald spot indicating a recent battle. Was this
the killer wolf that had attacked Uncle Hugh?
Brian would want her to run and save herself, but
this time she would not run—would not leave him alone to fight her battles. She
vowed not to give up on him or herself.
While Brian fought the wolf, muzzle to muzzle and
blocked bite for bite, she jumped up on the wolf’s back and dug her incisors
into his neck near the other recent bite. The deafening rumble of the three of
them growling echoed for miles. The big wolf thrust himself against a boulder
and knocked her off his back. The forceful slam resulted in her coming loose
with a mouth full of acrid skin and slimy fur. She spit out the nasty stuff and
watched for a chance to get back into the action.
A cloud eclipsed the moon and under
the waning light, the bodies of both male wolves morphed to werewolves. Their
faces remained wolfish but their hairy, muscular bodies stood upright, slightly
bent and leaning forward like apes. Her alpha wolf held his arms a foot away
from his hairy body, feet somewhat apart. Although he was the smaller, leaner
werewolf of the two, the span of his shoulders appeared at least an inch
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