Chapter 9: Sawyer

Elodie Rose is available. I caught myself drumming a cheerful beat on the steering wheel and grinning like a dumbass at the thought. The expression felt so foreign that it kinda hurt my face. There hadn't been much to smile about since Mom died.

And then I stopped.

"What the hell are you doing, McGrath?"

I'd done what I set out to do. I'd apologized for my behavior from the day before. And then I'd flirted with her? Poked around to find out if she was dating anybody?

She'd entirely missed the first subtle query, and I could still see the shock on her face when she'd realized what I was asking. That was the expression of someone not used to such attentions. Which just went to prove that the guys here were grade-A, class act fucktards if they hadn't recognized that she was amazing.

She was so cute when she blushed.

But what did it matter if she was dating somebody? It's not like I could date her.

Hello? Werewolf. We don't mate outside our own kind. I guess it's not technically impossible. There aren't any genetic incompatibilities. But I never heard of anybody doing it. I mean, it's not like that's a third date confession. "Oh by the way, I can turn fanged and furry at will. That's not a problem for you, is it?" How many humans - given their fear of what they don't know, don't understand - would actually say, "Yeah okay, I can deal with that"?

No, they'd be calling up the men in white coats and trying to have you put away. Or locking you in a cage to test and poke and prod and probably dissect.

It was far smarter to stick to our own kind.

I'd done what I meant to. She wasn't afraid of me. I'd apologized. Mission accomplished.

The best thing, at this point, would be to cut this off before it started. I mean, nothing had been started, really. It's just that we had amazing, off-the-charts chemistry, and she had the power to soothe the savage beast.

Well, we didn't have to be dating or together for her to do that. Just being around her seemed to do the trick. So I'd make nice, be her friend, and squash any idea that this could be anything more. It would be fine.

By the time I took the turn at the end of the road, I was scowling again.

My brain ran back over our conversation on the drive home. If she wasn't dating anybody, then who had I smelled on her this morning? That Rich Phillips guy she mentioned? The one her bike got ruined over? She'd said he hadn't hassled her - or more properly she'd said the guy was an idiot and harmless. I got the feeling Elodie was prone to both understatement and a tendency to handle things herself.

A jackass unable to comprehend the meaning of "No" was not something she should have to handle herself. It wasn't safe. Someone should be watching out for her.

By the time I approached Hansen's again, I felt the beast pacing within me.

A truck pulled out into traffic a few cars in front of me. The same truck Elodie had been scowling at when she'd talked about this Phillips guy. I couldn't see the driver well enough to tell anything but that he had blond hair.

When he turned off into the park, I peeled off and followed.

I don't know why I did it, but I was too cagey and restless to head home, so driving a while longer wasn't a bad thing. Even after my morning run and a day spent hiking, I needed to move. Needed out of the confines of the truck, of society. Of my body. I was desperate to shift and hunt. But there were at least a couple of hours until sunset, and I just couldn't risk it.

God, I couldn't stand it here.

It'd been bad when we first moved to Mortimer. But it was worse now that I'd met Elodie, to have felt the calm and have it disappear again. Worse now that I'd released some of the chokehold on my instincts. I was going to go mad from inaction. And then where would Dad be with all his careful planning and restriction if I wound up hurting some innocent bystander because I hadn't been allowed to take care of business. Case in point. Why the hell was I following this guy?

The truck pulled off at a trailhead, and I started to slow. Then I saw the little girl get out of the passenger seat and rolled on by. None of my business, and in my current filthy temper, if it was Rich Phillips, I wasn't entirely sure I could keep a lid on it. No reason to risk losing control via fists or fangs when there was a child involved. Better that I find some way to decompress.

I could be careful. Hike in deep, find some cave to shift in and leave my clothes. Keep well away from trails. People would be hiking back at this point in the day, if they hadn't already. Wanting dinner, a cool drink, a shower.

I parked at the next empty overlook. There was no formal trailhead here, but I could see a path through the underbrush that had been worn by some intrepid or foolish hikers before me. Lifting my nose I tested the wind, but there were no signs of people. The sounds of other vehicles were faint, far enough away that I could slip over the railing and into the foliage without being seen. Circling around, well out of the view of anyone from above, I pushed my way through the undergrowth until I came out on the forest floor more than a quarter mile below the overlook, hidden by the canopy of trees.

For more than two miles, I kept up a steady lope. It helped a little, burning some of the pent up energy as I kept my nose and ears open for the presence of others, my eyes scanning for a good place to hide and shift. It wasn't a cave that I finally found, but a thick copse of trees that grew so close together, the branches practically knit to form a wall. I pushed through and stripped, then crouched to let the wolf take over.

It had been too long since I last shifted. My muscles bunched and cramped, twitching beneath my skin like a full-body Charlie horse. I gritted my teeth as my frame rearranged itself, bones lengthening to accommodate the additional muscle. Finally with somewhere to go, the clenched muscles loosened, the pressure eased. My claws dug into dirt as I stretched my new form, pushing and dropping my haunches, then dropping my front end low and stretching my hind-quarters all the way down to my toes.

Holy God, that felt good.

I pushed out of the thicket and into the long shadows of dusk. Night wasn't far off and the forest was stirring. It was finally safe to be myself for a while. Suppressing a howl of joy - I had enough human intellect left to know not to push it - I took off at a sprint.

I ran for miles, free for the first time in months to just be. Free of rules. Free of restrictions. Free of my father. I wasn't free of the anger, of course. It pulsed below my skin like a second heartbeat. But as a wolf, it felt more manageable, channeled into healthier pursuits, like hunting.

I cast about, testing the air for deer or rabbit, something that would give a good chase. And then I caught the scent. The same male I'd smelled on Elodie this morning. My lips peeled back in a snarl as I lifted my nose, determined direction. East. Toward the trailhead where the other driver had parked.

I shouldn't have followed the scent. Even with some of the pressure released, my temper was still volatile. But I found myself tracking him as the sun sank behind the mountains and the sky bled with color.

When I realized I was hunting, I stopped short, my human intellect throwing on the brakes before I did something irrevocably stupid. I was not in control enough to do this and trust that I wouldn't act. Yet instinct demanded that I do something to this asshole for hassling Elodie. Scare him. Rough him up. Teach him a lesson. I needed to protect her.

As if he'd make the connection between a wolf attack and his actions earlier in the day.

I threw back my head and howled in frustration.

And in the distance, I heard a long cry of response.