he would ever feel comfortable bringing down himself, but the pack was confident. Roman was confident.

And together they made short work of it.

Roman reached it first, leaping upon its hindquarters and biting down, hobbling it. The elk screamed, but

somehow managed to twist loose in a spray of blood and fur and veer off into a dark, tangled copse of

trees. Roman landed gracefully, never losing sight of it. He barked sharply and raced off at an angle to the

trees. A signal of some kind had been given, one Kevin didn’t quite understand. One half of the pack

followed him while Anya took the lead on the other half and started a little slower through the foliage, hot

on the trail of the wounded elk bleeding all over the forest floor.

They were planning on cutting off its escape routes, boxing it in, he realized. Kevin stopped on the

periphery of the trees, trying to decide whom to follow, Roman or Anya. His first instinct was to follow

Roman, but he thought that Anya and her small army of beta werewolves might need his help as well. But

before he could make the decision, a huge wolf came out of nowhere and leaped upon him, its jaws

slashing unexpectedly at his side. Kevin yelped in surprise and skirted the attacking wolf, receiving only

one long gouge across his ribs by way of the wolf’s massive claws. But the wolf wasn’t done with him,

and Kevin immediately spotted the danger.

The wolf was as big as he, with pale, silvery blond fur and ice blue eyes. Fenrir. It lowered its head and

gave him a feral snarl. Kevin snarled back. Snorting, the blond wolf pissed against a nearby tree and

kicked at some dirt. Kevin didn’t know how to respond and he knew his stance looked confused, weak.

Fenrir lashed out again. Kevin jumped back. He knew Roman’s lieutenant disliked him, but he had no idea

what he had done to deserve this. He didn’t know what to do, so he backed away slowly, snarling, head

low and teeth bared. He was bleeding but he didn’t yet feel the pain. He was too pumped up on adrenaline

and fear.

The wolf took a step toward him, ears pricked forward in an offensive gesture, lips stretched back in

what was most definitely a diabolical human grin. He snarled a warning, a low, dangerous belly growl

that clearly meant you’re dead meat. Kevin barked and snapped at his attacker, hoping to warn him back,

to frighten him, but it was obvious that Fenrir was sensing his lack of confidence and wasn’t impressed.

He just made a low huffing noise that almost sounded like wolf laughter.

Fenrir was challenging him. What was he going to do? Fight Fenrir? He’d never fought a werewolf

before. His first thought was to shift back to human and pick up a weapon—a long stick or big stone—but

he wasn’t sure that Fenrir wouldn’t leap upon his more vulnerable human body. Run, he thought. You have

to run! Before Fenrir could attack again, he acted upon the impulse and took off running into the woods.

He could hear the others not far off. Fenrir gave chase, but though they were about the same size, Fenrir

was more muscular, and a little heavier than Kevin. Kevin managed to stay safely ahead of the other wolf

until they both broke out into a clearing.

The pack had the elk surrounded. Wounded, it was rushing them, head low and antlers pointing like

swords at its hunters as each of the wolves tried to get close enough to kill it. Kevin checked behind him.

Fenrir was glaring at him from the safety of the woods. He knew Fenrir wouldn’t do anything so stupid as

to attack him in full sight of the others, but he also knew he had to prove himself to Fenrir. He had to show

the other werewolf that he was no pushover. Gaining allies wouldn’t hurt, either. Otherwise, Fenrir

would just bully him from this day forward.

Kevin turned to observe the wounded elk. It was slowly tiring, its breath coming in labored gasps. It was

bleeding all over the place. A part of Kevin felt a pang of pity and regret; it was a beautiful animal, and

he liked animals very much, but he knew what needed to be done. He knew what the pack needed—his

family. Death now would be a mercy.

Taking a running leap, Kevin lunged at the elk when it turned its head away from him, snapping his teeth

around its windpipe. It was like trying to take down a mountain, and he wasn’t sure how he would hold on

as the elk bucked and fought him to its last breath, but somehow he managed it. The animal brayed and

tossed its head to dislodge him, but he hung on. For the pack. For his family. He crunched vertebrae,

managing to break its neck instantly. The elk went down, dead, and the others moved in to dismember it.

Roman snarled, warning the others back. As the other wolves cringed and whined, he turned to Kevin and

licked the blood off Kevin’s muzzle. Kevin stood over the carcass, admiring his work but also giving

thanks to the forest and the elk for its meat. Roman ripped off a chunk of the hindquarters and offered it to

Kevin as a trophy before tearing off a piece of meat for himself and Anya. After that, the others were

allowed to feed.

The pack consumed the elk, meat, fur, bones and all. Nothing of the animal remained but its antlers to pay

testament to how it had died. Their bellies full, and their spirits full of a languid contentment, Roman

made love to Kevin for the entertainment of the pack—first as wolves, then as men. The others looked on,

grunting and rolling in the dirt and leaf litter, or playing or mating amongst themselves. Only Fenrir

remained apart, watching him from the safety of the trees, his eyes simmering with a dark promise of

trouble to come.

***

Chapter Thirteen

“Sugar, did you see anything strange at the cabin this weekend?” Jolene asked the following Monday. She

was several hours late, so Kevin had opened the Barracuda without her.

He stood up from the dishwasher, his arms full of glasses, and looked at her standing in the doorway. The

question had thrown him off guard and for a moment he wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t actually spent

any amount of time at Jolene’s cabin this past weekend. After the hunt, he and the pack had retired to

Roman’s lodge. They’d spent the rest of the weekend hunting, partying and making love. “I didn’t notice

anything. Why?”

“Are you certain?”

He thought about lying outright, then decided against it. He’d never been a very convincing liar. “I didn’t

stay at the cabin. I was with someone,” he said as he started stacking clean dishes. “We spent most of the

weekend either at his place, or camping. What happened at the cabin?”

She waved it away. “Nothing dramatic. Someone just painted graffiti on the door, is all.”

Kevin gritted his teeth. “Shit. Was anything taken?”

“That’s why I’m late today. I went up to check this morning, but everything looks in order. So you didn’t

see anybody suspicious creeping around?”

“No. What kind of graffiti?”

“Just one spray-painted word. Tyr. What do you think it means?”