Dane POV
Dane Cresta’s senses grabbed onto the fleeing man’s scent and refused to let go. The thief in the robe darted along the main street of Wildefell, one of the biggest settlements in this region. At this late hour, deserted streets made the hunt simple. No citizen stirred out of doors, and those that did either had late, late work or a secret midnight rendezvous or an evening planned in one of the local taverns.
With his visit to Lilia Rolfe, Dane himself fell in the secret midnight rendezvous category, and also the late, late work category. Thank the Moon Goddess she passed his test, showing both courage in the face of an unknown assailant who could easily rip her to shreds and kindness to that same assailant. As well, she was damn talented at setting traps and defending her shop, her mother, and herself.
He would die before he’d put so much as a bruise on her. Before he’d hurt her in any way. She might have a wrongheaded opinion of shifters, but he could change that. And then he would go after whichever shifters harmed her.
Unbelievable. Until the full moon last month, he had no idea who his fated mate might be–he certainly had no idea that the Moon Goddess would choose a witch for him. Now, he chased down an unknown burglar for his mate and her mother.
A witch! He felt her heartbeat alongside his, smelled the lavender and rain all over her, and the delicious womanly scent underneath. He ached to nuzzle against her, to feel her sensual body, to hear that assertive voice match wits with him.
But a witch? Why not another shifter? The Moon Goddess had some explaining to do. How could he choose a witch? His bond with her would make him look weak. What would the rival packs such as the Crimsontail Shadows think?
Later for those questions. Now, he hunted a thief, although it seemed foolish to do so. But he would keep his word and help Lilia. The honor of his pack must be satisfied…
He sniffed. Surely, he could recognize another shifter by scent, but his nose failed him. Either the burglar wasn’t a shifter or he concealed his scent somehow–such things did occur. Tulaska, the Evenhide Pack wise woman, spoke about cunning shifters, especially rogue shifters, who used enchantments to mask their true natures.
He couldn’t smell a shifter, but no ordinary burglar with half a brain would steal from a witch, so the burglar must either be a shifter, another magical being, or an incredibly foolhardy human with some magic tricks. No way of knowing what he was dealing with. Perhaps it didn’t matter. He still had to catch the thief for Lilia.
He thought about his fated mate, and about the night that Tulaska told him who she would be.
“She will unite the pack in ways you cannot imagine,” Tulaska said while sitting in her wise woman’s solarium with a crystal clear dome overhead that let the moonlight shine down. “Through harmony, you two will defeat the enemy packs and bring our allies closer together.”
“And who in the Evenhide Pack is she?” he’d asked.
“She is not in our pack lands and not one of us,” Tulaska said in her mysterious way.
“So, she’s from an allied pack like the Silverpaw Claws?”
Tulaska’s topaz eyes glowed, and she smiled. “Follow the scent of shifters until you find her.”
He had to scowl at her cryptic words. He’d followed the scents of rogue shifters, but lost them in the streets of Wildefell, right in the vicinity of Lilia’s shop. Lost the scent, but found the mate bond.
The mate bond that pulled him away from the business of governing the pack, from his four brothers, and making an alliance with the other packs to defeat the Crimsontail Shadows.
The burglar in the dark robe fled through the streets, flitting from one side of the street to the other, keeping to the safety of the darkened buildings and away from the streetlamps.
Damn it, the bond distracted him so much that he couldn’t even chase down this thief. He sprang into action, charging after his prey. Dane knew that if he could sink his teeth and claws into the fluttering robe he could entrap his quarry, yank him back, and wrestle him to the ground.
Some of Dane’s fellow shifters might rip his throat out for a threat to a fated mate, but Dane had a more pressing agenda. Find out who robbed Lilia, who kept leaving her unwanted roses and notes, and make sure it wasn’t a shifter. Were the robber and the unwelcome admirer one and the same?
Enough thinking! He should have been able to overtake the thief by now. Damn the bond.
He moved so dexterously that his claws made no sound striking the streets. With such agility that nothing hindered him. With such speed that he would look like white mist or fog whizzing through the streets.
No one ran out of doors and trained a weapon on him. His ears pricked, catching soft sounds of sleep and louder ones of sex inside the nearby homes, as well as the movements of shopkeepers. But everyone apparently was too occupied to notice a wolf loping through the streets.
The thief’s outline became more solid and outlined in a dull red or gold through Dane’s shifter sight. The red glow illuminated the thief’s features underneath a dark hood. A male human face, but no identifying details. He had the thief, as surely as he could trap an onyx doe cornered by the hunters of the pack in the tufted hills of his homeland …
Unexpectedly, the robber spun and struck out, shoving him with force, and striking him in the chest. Dane growled and batted the robber with his paws, his claws slashing at the robber’s arm. A gasp of pain and a muttered curse met his ears. Then, Dane sprang and knocked the robber to the cobblestone street, planting all four of his paws firmly on the robber to prevent his escape.
A blade slid into his side and he howled in pain. To add agony to injury, the burn of silver and the inferno of poison shot through him. He panted, his heart racing until it felt like it would burst, causing crushing chest pain. A wave of dizziness swept him and he rolled off the thief onto the cool cobblestone street, where he lay gasping and jerking. He shut his eyes.
Lilia’s sweet voice rang out. “DANE! Goddess, NO!”
The last thing he sensed before the darkness in his head overtook him was his mate.
The last thing he clung to was her voice, and he willed himself to stay awake long enough to feel her touch. To know for certain that he not only needed to claim her, according to fate and the Moon Goddess, but he wanted to claim her.
He blacked out, surrendering to his folly.