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Bayou Wolf
Debbie Herbert


The Taming of the Shrew . . .Tallulah Silver is tough. She has to be—because she’s the Choctaw tribe’s only female shadow hunter, and because she doesn’t know how else to survive the loss that almost destroyed her.Payton Rodgers has devoted his life to protecting his wolf pack. But when mauled bodies start to pile up in the bayou, Payton begins to wonder if Tallulah might be right about rogue werewolves deserving the blame. As darkness gathers around them, can Tallulah risk opening herself up to love again while Payton determines where his true loyalties lie?







The taming of the shrew…

Tallulah Silver is tough. She has to be—because she’s the Choctaw tribe’s only female shadow hunter, and because she doesn’t know how else to survive the loss that almost destroyed her. Payton Rodgers has devoted his life to protecting his pack. But when mauled bodies start to pile up in the bayou, Payton begins to wonder if Tallulah might be right about werewolves deserving the blame. As darkness gathers around them, Tallulah will have to decide if she can risk opening herself up to love again. And Payton will have to determine where his true loyalties lie.


“We can settle this between the two of us, no need for the police,” he replied. “For the last time, what are you doing here?”

“And if I don’t change my answer?”

Maddening. What a shrew. Her eyes flashed, and her chest rose and fell with her hot-tempered breathing. Ah, but she was sexy as all get-out. His gaze focused on the cleavage exposed by her deep V–neck shirt.

A leather-fringed, beaded necklace with some sort of woven charm settled in the space between her rounded breasts. He couldn’t help it. Payton reached a hand out to touch it, his fingers lightly brushing her skin.

Heat sparked his fingertips and spread throughout his body, and he dropped his arm and stepped backward. For a brief instant, he caught a returning fire banked in Tallulah’s widened eyes—until animosity again took its place.

“What’s that on your necklace?” he asked, trying to break the tension.

“A miniature dreamcatcher I wove. And don’t you dare touch me again like that.”

Did he imagine it, or did her voice sound a tiny bit husky? His desire doubled. Here was an opportunity. He dared, all right.


DEBBIE HERBERT writes paranormal romance novels reflecting her belief that love, like magic, casts its own spell of enchantment. She’s always been fascinated by magic, romance and gothic stories. Married and living in Alabama, she roots for the Crimson Tide football team. Her eldest son, like many of her characters, has autism. Her youngest son is in the US Army. A past MAGGIE® Award finalist in both young-adult and paranormal romance, she’s a member of the Georgia Romance Writers of America.


Bayou Wolf

Debbie Herbert






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Contents

Cover (#u6c5372b5-202f-5433-8f10-aa3586750fb0)

Back Cover Text (#u251021db-5381-54fe-8e5e-9ed9fa682501)

Introduction (#u0c055346-f2bf-55db-b293-4f54225fbaa8)

About the Author (#ud03579ee-3175-521b-8196-f04a44e2db56)

Title Page (#u88e22df6-b9a5-5d84-8025-2fd4e38a335d)

Chapter 1 (#uf091ec3b-2645-5117-8636-91543ae00902)

Chapter 2 (#uca56b20b-2ed2-5f52-8b42-847de2b7d3c7)

Chapter 3 (#uc3a6bc69-c690-56aa-99e7-02b03ad3ac30)

Chapter 4 (#u7fa62969-f2ff-5f22-bc39-7b5de17d9334)

Chapter 5 (#ua9172f1b-fb39-5671-ab69-9f7ba9eedba2)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter 1 (#uc0b8ef2a-0bb7-5199-8460-a997e0596782)

The creature had been watching her ever since she entered the forest, half-hidden in the lengthening shadows. Trees rustled in the distance. One small sapling bowed, bending over until the tip brushed the ground. It was too far away for even her keen eyesight to locate the creature’s form or even a vague outline. But Tallulah sensed its energy emanating from the woods. A deer, perhaps? No, that wasn’t right. Too bold for a deer. Whatever it was, it didn’t appear to be a threat—for now.

Red feathers and black ribbons fluttered in the bayou breeze as she fastened the dream catcher to a cypress branch. Dozens of similar artifacts hung in varying states of disintegration, a shrine to her one and only love.

Bo had died here—832 nights ago—in this very spot. On this lonely patch of swampland, amidst the droning roar of a million mosquitoes, with nary a loved one to hold his numbed hands. Bohpoli Leyland, one of the most courageous shadow hunters of the Choctaw, was no more.

Tallulah tidied the area, rearranging her mandalas of seashells and clumps of crystals. Usually, tending the area was a comfort, a touch of spiritual communion. Sometimes she even talked out loud to Bo, recounting the day’s events or updating him on news of their friends. As if her words weren’t merely empty vibrations dying in the wind.

But this afternoon, she couldn’t shake the awareness of being watched. The longer the creature hung around, the more it bugged her. Whatever it was, the animal was curious, hungry, stupid, or some combination of all three.

She set about dusting pine straw from her little offerings to Bo. A hunk of rose quartz here, a beaded prayer rope there, an angel figurine.

Twigs snapped nearby.

Her brain and body lit into action. She quickly felt for the dagger tucked into her belt and scanned the gathering darkness. Patterns of long shadows crisscrossed the massive Spanish moss-draped oaks, the ever-present pine trees and the dense underbrush of saw palmettos. Nothing was visible out there, and only the barest of vibrations from the ground tingled the soles of her feet in warning.

Tallulah cautiously bent down and put her free hand in her backpack, where she carried her other weapons, all the while keeping her eyes and ears peeled for an intruder. She lifted her slingshot and pocketed several rocks, stuffing them into the leather pouch at her waist. They were the most effective weapon in battling the Ishkitini, birds of the night, and the only way to kill a will-o’-the-wisp.

But this felt different. There was no glow from a wisp, and the vibrations beneath her feet couldn’t come from the birds, which swooped from above to attack.

Yet something or someone was out there, stealthily advancing.

She straightened from her crouch and loaded the slingshot. Whatever emerged from the cover of darkness, she would not run, and she would not cower. A shadow hunter faced danger head on, confident in the power of their own heightened senses. As the only female hunter, Tallulah had diligently trained to be twice as brave and skillful as her male comrades in the fight against the dark shadow spirits that roamed Bayou La Siryna.

A metallic whiff blended into the normal scent of pine and sea, and her mouth soured at the taste of copper. What new hell was this?

Before she could think too deeply about the mystery, a growl purred in quiet menace. She swallowed hard and unsheathed her dagger. If it was a bobcat, she’d shoot a stone near its body and scare it away.

The growl erupted into a hiss of anger, and she located the sound’s source—about fifty yards away in thick underbrush. Her eyes strained in the dark. Despite her heightened senses, she didn’t quite have the nocturnal sight of an owl or cat. But her sight was good enough to hunt and find predators in the night. It was what she and Bo and a dozen others had been born to do. A sacred gift and duty to keep good and evil balanced in the bayou.

Shadows shifted, patterns realigned and huge paws emerged from cover. Eyes gleamed in the darkness, but Tallulah held her ground. This was no bobcat—this was a monstrously oversized coyote, the largest she’d ever seen.

“Get outta here,” she yelled.

But the damn thing stalked forward, and her scalp prickled at its approach. This was no ordinary coyote. If she weren’t positive that Nalusa Falaya was safely imprisoned in their Choctaw sacred tree, she’d be suspicious that the bayou’s most powerful shadow spirit had returned and shape-shifted into a new form.

Tallulah held up the loaded slingshot and pulled back the band. “I said git!”

But it displayed no fear, instead advancing another few feet. Must be rabid, she decided. What else could account for such strange boldness? Tallulah narrowed her eyes, studying the creature. Its twitching ears were short, with rounded tips, and its snout was broad, whereas coyotes sported long, pointy ears and a narrow snout. Not only that, but the animal was also too large for a coyote.

It was wolf-sized.

Impossible. There were no wolves in south Alabama. Her arms shook from the tension of holding back the slingshot’s band.

Its eyes glowed, and it again growled, gnashing its teeth.

Tallulah released her grip, and the rock whirled through the air to strike the beast’s furry chest. It let out a small yelp of surprise, but it didn’t turn tail and run. Instead, muscles flexed on its lean flanks as if it were preparing to take a running leap.

Strange. Most wild creatures had a healthy respect for humans and their weapons. But if that’s the way it wanted to play, then she was prepared.

With the speed and accuracy gained from years of training as a shadow hunter, Tallulah unleashed a volley of shots, peppering the creature with rock after stinging rock. The animal snarled and glared, and stood its ground, unyielding. She swore it had an eerie intelligence that marked her for a future encounter. Tallulah reloaded her slingshot and once again raised the weapon, a warning of more shots to come. The beast turned and loped out of sight.

Alone again, she realized her arm was burning with the strain of the rapid shooting, and she caught her breath as her adrenaline surge subsided. “Did you see that, Bo?” she panted, her breath quick and shallow.

How ironic it would have been if she had ended up dying in this exact spot, just as Bo had. His death resulted when the great shadow spirit, Nalusa Falaya, had shape-shifted into a rattlesnake and had bitten him repeatedly, sending supercharged venom into Bo’s body. A mauling by this wolf creature would be just as painful, maybe even slower.

Tallulah put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “This place gets freakier and freakier. There’s more than just the will-o’-the-wisps and the Ishkitini we fought together. Now there are fairies and who knows what else.”

And here she thought she’d seen it all. Should have known better after last year, when she and the other hunters had discovered a secret fairy world existing under their noses. The fae weren’t evil like the shadow spirits that roamed these woods, but they had their own code of self-preservation that made them untrustworthy allies in the fight to keep evil contained in the bayou.

Maybe tonight’s wolfish creature was an anomaly. Maybe she’d never see it again.

And maybe she’d grow wings and fly. Like Tinkerbell. She couldn’t help snorting. Anyone who knew her for more than a day realized she was light-years away from a sparkly, bubbly, fairy-type personality—in truth, she more closely resembled a grouchy goblin. Those who cared for her called her challenging or abrupt, while those who cared nothing for her, which was the majority of people, merely called her bitchy.

Tallulah stuffed the slingshot in her backpack and slung it over her shoulders. “Bye, Bo,” she whispered. “Love you forever.”

This moment of saying goodbye always pinched her heart. Resolutely, she straightened her shoulders and hurried down the path. Experience had taught her it was best to keep the goodbye brief.

“Be back tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder.

The silence of the woods mocked her words. And she couldn’t shake the memory of the creature’s eyes boring into her own, memorizing her sight even as it caught her scent. She hadn’t seen the last of that one.

* * *

Vroom, vroom, vroom.

The loud whir of the skidder powered into the morning’s quiet. The cab of the heavy engine rumbled as it lifted felled trees and transported them to the waiting logging trucks. Payton grinned at the familiar vibration that shook his body. It felt damn good to get back to work after the last week of moving from Montana and settling into the new place. A fresh start was exactly what they all needed. An escape from the unwarranted accusations and territorial disputes from other wolf packs.

Besides, being cooped inside too long made him feel caged and claustrophobic. The great outdoors lifted his spirits, even when it came to back-breaking work. Sitting in some cubicle in a monkey suit would be his idea of torture.

Payton expertly maneuvered the skidder, creating cleared trails on the new land they were harvesting for its wood. The twenty-three-ton machine bulldozed through the thick underbrush. Cautiously, he kept a watch for his pack members, all of whom worked with him in the same timber clearing crew. Most of them were on the ground, felling trees with chainsaws. Those unlucky bastards might have a few snake encounters in this swampy land. Not for the first time, Payton was glad to be ensconced in the cab. He’d take his chances on a rollover or a fallen log over a rattlesnake bite any day.

Their pack leader, Matt, served as the lumberjacking supervisor. He directed traffic around Payton, the other skidder operator, and the truck drivers parking their vehicles at the edge of the property.

Payton lifted the edge of his T-shirt and wiped the sweat off his face. Seven o’clock in the morning, and it was already hot as Hades. Adjusting to the Alabama weather would take some time. What would it be like two months from now in the heat of summer?

Sweat stung his eyes, and he blinked. What the hell was that in front of him?

A gorgeous, olive-skinned woman stood a mere ten feet from the skidder, hands on her hips and a fierce gleam in her dark eyes. He slammed on the brakes and waved his arms. “Get out of the way!”

She scowled more deeply but otherwise didn’t budge an inch from her entrenched position. Was she crazy? Suicidal, perhaps?

Payton shifted to Neutral, settled the brakes and lowered the skidder’s blade. “Gorgeous or not, she’s a damn nuisance of a woman,” he sputtered, unbuckling the seat belt and hopping to the ground. He strode in front of the machine, boots squishing in the wet, red-clay soil. “This is a logging site. You can’t be here.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is that so? Well, I am here, and I’m not moving.”

The heat, coupled with her defiance, stirred his temper. “Are you nuts? Move it, lady!”

She folded her hands across her chest. A beautiful chest, he couldn’t help noticing.

“No,” she said simply.

No? She had some kind of nerve. “What the hell do you mean? You trying to get yourself killed?”

“I’m trying to stop you from destroying our land.”

Confusion knit his brow. “Excuse me, are you the owner?”

“Not legally. But—”

So she was one of those conservation types. They’d dealt with them before. Payton slapped on a fake smile and tried a placating tone of voice. “Look, lady, uh...what’s your name?”

“Tallulah,” she replied grudgingly. “Tallulah Silver.”

He nodded. “Payton Rodgers. Now, unless you have a property title in hand, Miss Silver, you have no say in this matter.”

“All of Bayou La Siryna once belonged to my people, the Choctaw. I’m not moving.”

An uncharacteristic silence settled over the workplace. All the men had turned off their chain saws and regarded the intruder quizzically. A few were just plain getting an eyeful.

Payton had to admit the crazy woman was easy on the eyes—she was tall with lean muscles but all the right curves, long black hair and angular features. Her fierce don’t-mess-with-me attitude was a characteristic some men found to be a welcoming challenge. Not that he was one of them. Nope. Give him a woman with a soft voice and gentle, feminine manner. Someone that didn’t ask too many questions or make too many demands.

“Stay then. Suit yourself,” he said, bluffing, as he climbed back into the cab and gunned the engine. He thrust the gears and moved forward a couple of feet.

Damn it to hell. She stayed rooted to the spot and regarded him defiantly, a smirk flirting at the edge of her full lips.

Payton sighed and jumped back out of the skidder. Heat flushed up his neck as the pack watched his defeat. “What do you want me to do?” he asked her, throwing up his hands. “You really gonna stand there all day?”

“As long as it takes.”

Smart-ass woman. “You know you’re wasting your time. We’ll just work around you.”

A flicker of uncertainty lit her dark brown eyes, and he felt momentarily guilty. Payton wasn’t entirely unsympathetic to her cause. If anyone had the right to protest timber cutting, it was Native Americans. “We’re only harvesting the wood,” he explained, keeping his voice reasonable. “We’ll plant new trees when the job is finished.”

Tallulah lifted her chin. “I’ve seen what these crews do. You’ll clear valuable hardwood, and when you leave, you’ll replant only pine. Doing that destroys the wildlife habitat.”

“The company we work for replants the same ratio of tree species as what we clear.” This he could say with a clear conscience. He wouldn’t do this work otherwise.

Miss High-and-Mighty only sniffed. “Like I’d believe you. Even if that were true, you’re still disrupting our wildlife.”

Payton shifted his feet. Yeah, he wasn’t too wild about that, either. But if he didn’t do it, someone else would. This was the employment his pack had chosen. In many ways, the job was perfect. Work in a transient crew a few months, and then move on. That way, no one had time to really get to know you and discover your big, hairy secret. And when trouble brewed with neighboring packs, you could always cut out for greener pastures. If he had twinges of guilt, that was his problem. A small price to pay for the pack’s safety.

“Sorry you feel that way,” he said stiffly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t allowed to be here. It’s dangerous.”

“I have no fear of danger.”

Because she was daft. He tried to appeal to her sense of self-preservation. “You might get sliced with a chain saw or run over by heavy equipment. You see all of us in hard hats and goggles? There’s a reason for it.”

Tallulah shrugged.

Maybe an appeal to her dignity would do the trick. “Leave now, or the police will come out here and forcibly remove you,” he threatened.

She didn’t blink. “They can try.”

He caught movement in his peripheral vision as Matt strolled over. Great, she’d make him look like an idiot in front of his alpha.

“Is there a problem?” Matt asked in his wry, quiet way. He signaled the others to get back to work, and a loud buzzing returned to the scene.

“Yes. I’ve got a problem with you destroying these trees.” Tallulah tossed her mane of black hair and raised her voice over the whir of the chain saws. “Some of them have stood for decades.”

“They’re coming down,” Matt said firmly. “Unless you have a court order to stop us.”

She flushed. “I don’t. Not yet. This project sure was kept on the down-low. I didn’t know about it until I happened to drive past and heard the noise.”

“I suggest you protest this through the court system,” he murmured.

“By then, it will be too late,” she spat out. “All the trees will be cut.”

Matt didn’t respond, but his powerful, firm energy was like a force of nature. Being the alpha came naturally to him.

Tallulah turned her attention from Matt and shot Payton a daggered look with narrowed eyes. “I’ll be back,” she promised. “And I won’t be alone.”

Payton removed his hard hat and ran a hand through his hair. He nodded at Tallulah, but she’d turned away, her spine ramrod straight as she made long, purposeful strides toward the county road.

Of course she’d return. What fun this job was shaping up to become. The long, hot summer stretched before him, full of conflict with the locals, high heat and humidity and increased guilt over the destruction of yet more land.

He wasn’t the only one watching her ass sway in angry strides to her car. Eli, one of the ground cutters, approached and nudged his side. “What a looker. You get her number?”

Payton snorted. “I reckon she’d rather spit on me than exchange phone numbers.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Eli said with a slow drawl. “Where there’s sparks, there’s chemistry.”

Huh. More like “where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” And an opportunity to get burned again when it came time to pick up and leave again for the next job, the next town. No thank you.


Chapter 2 (#uc0b8ef2a-0bb7-5199-8460-a997e0596782)

Dark clouds grayed the sky, and thunder rumbled through the woods. Fat, splatting raindrops dripped from magnolias and pines.

Tallulah didn’t care. The increased gales cooled her hot skin and made her restless, hungry for action. Wisps would be out this evening—the storm energy called to their chaotic, wild nature. For the past week, they’d been more active. So had the Ishkitini, as they’d hooted and fluttered in the treetops, ever watchful, looking for an opportunity to swoop in and slash with their sharp talons.

It wasn’t her imagination. Her brother, Tombi, and the rest of the hunters felt it, too. They’d be joining her during the next full moon’s hunting. For now, they were busy with new lives, new loves. Tallulah tamped down the jealous twinges. She’d had a shot at domesticity last year when Chulah, a lifelong friend and hunter, had proposed marriage. She’d even had second thoughts about turning him down, but then he’d fallen for a fairy, and that was the end of that.

It was all for the best. No one could ever compare to Bo, and second best wasn’t fair to anyone.

Whoosh.

Tallulah ducked and loaded her slingshot in one swift movement—but not before a talon swiped the side of her neck. Ignoring the pain, she released the stone. It thudded against flesh, and a lump of brown-and-gray feathers hit the ground.

Excellent. But the damn owl had got in a lick. Tallulah carefully touched the scrape and then examined her fingers, sticky with blood. Not too bad. Might not even need stitches. She dug in her backpack and unwrapped an antiseptic wipe. The alcohol stung a bit as she placed it on the gash, but nothing like a future infection would hurt. Quickly, she bandaged the wound and continued into the woods.

Where the Ishkitini appeared, the will-o’-the-wisps were sure to follow. The night would not be wasted if she killed a wisp. Every defeat ensured a safer, more successful full-moon hunt. She attuned her senses to the night, amplifying sight, sound and smell, then inhaled the scents of wet leaves and damp soil, and even the coppery smell of her own blood, which left a metallic taste in her throat.

Branches scraped bark. Little critters—squirrels, rabbits, mice—scrambled about the carpet of pine needles and the prickly underbrush of saw palmettos and stunted shrubs. Tallulah’s vision adjusted to the gathering darkness, and she unerringly kept to the path leading to the center of the forest.

A teal glow burst through a gap in the oaks—a wisp. Her breath quickened. She needed to get a little closer. Soundlessly, she padded from tree to tree, pausing to hide her body while she edged nearer.

The glow dazzled her eyes. The wisp floated a mere ten feet away. She’d been spotted.

Tallulah loaded the slingshot.

It’s useless, the negative whisper echoed in her mind. She had come way too close to the wisp. Close enough that it could invade her thoughts, inducing despair and misery and hopelessness. The wisps thrived on human suffering. It made them stronger, more deadly.

Death is imminent. Don’t fight it.

No way. Tallulah’s arm drew back the slingshot band, ready to strike.

Join Bo.

Her lungs squeezed, and her throat painfully tightened, as if a boa constrictor were wrapped around her chest. Her breath grew harsh, and her biceps quivered and strained on the band.

You know you want to see him again. It would be so easy. Give in.

Bo. It dared mention his name. She stared at the center of the wisp, where the blue-green heart pulsed. Where the imprisoned spirit lived its miserable existence. Because that’s what wisps did. They killed humans and trapped their souls inside their parasitic bodies. That’s what they had done to Bo—until she had killed the wisp host and set Bo free.

Bo was dead, but at least he’d passed over into the After Life.

“You lie,” she growled harshly. She could never be with Bo again. Not in this life.

Hot, angry tears burned her eyes, but Tallulah got off her shot. Then another and another. Stones whizzed through the air at top speed.

The wisp collapsed upon itself, gray smoke from its dead form carried up to the skies by the storm’s wind. Tallulah swiped at her eyes, wanting to see the soul’s release. It was one of the few pleasures of being a shadow hunter.

From the dying, gray ash, the teal heart transformed to a small, pure white spirit, as tiny as the flick of a cigarette lighter. The trapped soul took wing, flying up to the After Life. Tallulah leaned against the nearest tree, watching. Praying. It was a sacred moment. A shame that April, the fairy, wasn’t here. April had the ability to communicate with and identify the released souls. Whoever this soul belonged to, Tallulah wished it Godspeed on its journey to reunite with ancestors and loved ones.

Before Tallulah could pack her slingshot away, a chilling cry rent the air—the unmistakable cry of an animal in the throes of death. Once heard, it was never forgotten. Tallulah shoved off the tree, instantly wary, and tried to pinpoint the location. Such was nature—one moment divine, the next moment a brutal kill.

The question in her mind wasn’t figuring out the kind of victim, but rather identifying the size and ferocity of the predator. Was she in danger?

Judging from the small size of the victim and the distance of the killing, probably not. She turned to go home. One Ishkitini, one wisp and one wound were enough for a day’s work. And what an aggravating day it had been, right from the beginning when she drove to work and witnessed the trees being destroyed.

Payton’s image flashed in her mind’s eye. The challenging spark in his smoky gray eyes, the power of his lithe body... Not that she was interested in someone employed in that despicable occupation. Besides, she wanted a man like Bo—kind and sensitive and understanding. Domineering men like Payton held no charm.

So why was she thinking of him? Impatiently, Tallulah wiped Payton’s image from her thoughts and quickened her step. If she hurried, she’d arrive at her cabin before the worst of the storm was unleashed.

The death cries continued. Nature was a cruel bitch, she mused. As quickly as they had begun, the pitiful squeals stopped—it was dead and done, and the knot in her shoulders relaxed. She might be used to the ways of the wild, but it didn’t mean her heart was immune to its violence.

A crack of thunder rumbled, and she upped her pace to a light jog. Her mind calmed and jumped ahead to trivial matters—what to fix for dinner and what TV show to watch afterward. Another exciting evening alone.

Tallulah rounded a bend in the trail, only to find the wolfish creature from the night before blocking her path, twenty feet ahead.

She stilled and drew a sharp breath. It came with no warning. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been caught unawares if she hadn’t let her attention drift. Focus. That was the number-one rule of the shadow hunter—a basic tenet to avoid spirits and predators before you became their next meal.

Blood dripped from the beast’s gaping mouth, and bits of rabbit carcass hung from its back molars. Mystery solved as to the screams—the thing should be sated. Its eyes focused on her neck, and she touched the crusty bandage. Could it smell her blood from that distance? Anger replaced fear in pounding waves of adrenaline. She was bigger and smarter than the animal, and she was a skilled hunter with a weapon. If anyone had the upper hand, it was her.

“You want a piece of this again?” She withdrew her slingshot from her backpack.

The animal growled, but hung its head in submission. The cagey fellow remembered that, all right.

“Go on—git!” she yelled, and the beast snarled, but turned and trotted off.

Were there others like him? Was she in the midst of its territory? Impulsively, Tallulah followed it from a respectful distance, using all her tracking skills to move as soundlessly as possible. It never even looked back.

Curiosity killed the cat, you know.

She ignored the internal warning voice. In her experience, knowledge was king. Twice in two days, this animal had confronted her, and she vowed to learn more about it. Kill or be killed. That was the lesson of the wild.

Close to the end of the trail, the animal veered off the path into a clearing, a wide-open area recently planted with cotton. The quarter moon easily highlighted its movement down rows of ankle-deep greenery, allowing her to watch from a greater distance. Across the field, bright lights shone through windows at Jeb’s old farmhouse. He’d vacated it last year and put it up for sale, preferring to live closer to town now that he was older and his sons had taken on most of the farming duties.

News to her that someone had bought the old place. It was large and old-fashioned, a wooden, three-story behemoth that over the decades had been a temporary home for many field hands. Nearly every house light blazed, and over a dozen cars and trucks were parked in the front yard.

The animal cut a direct path across the cotton field, straight to the back porch door. Was it a danger to anyone who might step outside for a smoke or a bit of fresh air? Tallulah jogged across the field, prepared to fight if needed, but the creature confidently climbed the back steps and nudged open the screen door with its broad snout.

Tallulah ran, blood pounding in her ears as loud as ocean waves crashing on shore. She’d never seen a wild animal so brazen, so indifferent to the danger posed by humans. At the edge of the property, she witnessed the animal squeeze into an extralarge doggie door and enter the farmhouse.

It was in the freaking house. She panted, hands on hips, trying to make sense of what she’d seen. The animal was not a dog. It more closely resembled a coyote. Actually...okay, she admitted to the fantastic notion, it appeared to be a wolf. It was much too large to be a coyote. Wolves weren’t supposed to be in south Alabama, but she’d seen many stranger things in the bayou woods.

Her ears tingled, waiting for the inevitable shrieks and commotion from inside the house, but silence reigned in the woods.

She’d heard wolves were cagey, but this was ridiculous. A wild animal in the house was bound to make noise, would elicit surprise from the residents. Obviously, people were home—unless they had gone out and left all the lights on.

Yes, that could explain it. Curiosity propelled her forward until she crept in the hedges against the farmhouse. A jumble of male voices sounded in a back room as she passed, and she raised up from her crouch by the open window. Just a quick second was all she needed, and she ducked back down in the hedge before she could be spotted.

The den was packed with over a dozen men. Some playing cards, some watching TV and a couple playing pool.

Not a wolf in sight. And no commotion among the men.

Tallulah tiptoed to the driveway, determined to learn as much as possible. Heat fanned across her face. Peeping into windows wasn’t exactly her normal modus operandi. It was necessary. The wolf is a danger, and my duty is to protect, she insisted to herself. Still, the curiosity remained, and she decided to see if she recognized any of the cars.

A hodgepodge of pickup trucks and beater cars were parked haphazardly in the front yard. Crouching, she went from vehicle to vehicle. All of them had Montana tags. Transient farm workers arrived from all over, but usually they were from nearby states, and quite a few came from elsewhere in Alabama.

Now what? Tallulah stood, debating her options. Perhaps a ruse could gain her entry. She’d knock at the door and claim to be looking for her lost dog. But that wouldn’t be too smart. She was no frail flower, but a single female approaching a group of strange men at night would be a dumb move. No, best to leave and gather more information later.

A screen door creaked open.

Holy crap. Tallulah dropped to the ground behind a truck, and her heart thudded against her chest as she listened intently. Footsteps plodded down the front porch steps. What if this was his truck and he wanted to drive? She furtively looked around, seeking other avenues of cover. Fingers crossed that the guy just came out for a bit of fresh air or to smoke a cigarette.

Tallulah wrapped her energy tightly around her body, somewhat cloaking her scent—just in case the wolf made an appearance. It was a form of protection for the shadow hunters in seeking and destroying their prey.

Gravel and weeds crunched underfoot. Damn it, the man was headed straight in her direction. Another couple of steps and she was toast.

* * *

Danger.

The smell of human was faint but totally out of place, and Payton’s wolf senses shifted to high alert. The scent teased his brain. He’d smelled it before—recently, too. Who the hell would be out in this remote area at this time of night? Someone up to no good.

No need to call the rest of the pack. Whoever the prowler was, he’d no doubt take off before backup arrived.

Payton unerringly followed his nose. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he geared up for a fight. Danger had seemingly followed them for hundreds of miles. His fingers twitched at his sides, and he flexed them into his palms, his nails digging into calloused flesh. If he needed to shift to wolf form, so be it.

The human smell emanated from behind Darryl’s pickup. The scent grew stronger—it was woodsy and green. His memory strained, almost grasping where he’d encountered it before. Another step closer, and Payton picked up the tart zing of citrus mixed with the other notes. Recognition slammed into his consciousness.

Well, I’ll be damned. He walked swiftly to the rear of the truck, where the human huddled into a ball on the ground. “What the hell are you doing on my property, Tallulah Silver?” he demanded.

Her head slowly rose, eyes flashing in surprise. She stood and brushed the front of her jeans. “You found me.” Her brow furrowed, as if she were puzzled. “How did you manage that?”

“Answer my question.” No need to try to be friendly or placate the woman now. “Were you perhaps putting sugar in the gas tanks? Nails in the tires?”

Her chin jutted forward. “Of course not. Why would I vandalize your property? I’m no criminal.”

“To run us off from our job.” Conservationists could be a passionate lot. Militant, even. And she’d been extremely confrontational this morning.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she countered. The arrogance in her manner had returned. “I was out for a walk and got spooked when you came outside. I’ll be on my way now.”

That woman, spooked? He snorted. “You’re lying.”

“Believe what you will.”

She turned away, and he grabbed the handle of the backpack slung across her shoulders. Damn, it looked heavy, as if it were loaded with rocks. “Not so fast. What you got in there?”

“None of your business.”

She tried jerking out of his grasp, but he held firm. “It is my business when you’re sneaking around on my land.”

“You got a property title? ’Cause I’m pretty sure this land belongs to Jeb. Not you.” A nasty smile curled her full lips.

She’d cunningly boomeranged his own words from their earlier encounter. “A technicality. We’re renting, which gives me a reason to legally be here. Now, why are you slinking around our home?”

“I told you already.” With surprising strength, she pulled away from his grasp. “If you want to call the cops or something, be my guest. I happen to know the sheriff.”

Terrific. She had connections with some Bubba local law enforcement dude. And trouble with the authorities was the last thing they needed. The locals here could call the cops in Montana, and information might get exchanged about a series of unsolved murders. He and his pack were innocent of wrongdoing, but it was as if a toxic miasma clouded their reputations.

“We can settle this between the two of us, no need for the police,” he replied. “For the last time, what are you doing here?”

“And if I don’t change my answer?”

Maddening. What a shrew. Her eyes flashed, and her chest rose and fell with her hot-tempered breathing. Ah, but she was sexy as all get-out. His gaze focused in on the cleavage exposed by her deep, V-cut shirt. A leather-fringed and beaded necklace, with some sort of woven charm, settled in the space between her rounded breasts. He couldn’t help it. Payton reached a hand out, as if his bones were made of steel and the necklace a magnet pulling him closer. He touched it, his fingers lightly brushing her skin.

Heat sparked his fingertips and spread throughout his body, and he dropped the necklace and stepped backward. For a brief instant, he caught a returning fire banked in Tallulah’s widened eyes—until animosity again took its place.

“What’s that on your necklace?” he asked, trying to break the tension.

“A miniature dream catcher I wove. And don’t you dare touch me again like that.”

Did he imagine it, or did her voice sound a tiny bit husky? His desire doubled, and an erection began to strain against his jeans. Here was an opportunity. He dared all right.

Payton stepped closer to her, their bodies inches apart. She didn’t retreat.

“You felt it, too, didn’t you? A spark between us when we touched?”

She skirted the question. “I loathe everything about the work you do.”

“But I’m not my job. I’m a man and I find you...very intriguing.”

“Don’t you mean maddening instead of intriguing?”

“Flip sides of the same coin. Can we call a truce?”

Tallulah crossed her arms. “I’m not one to back away from my principles, not for you, not for any man. Besides, there’s something strange going on around here.”

“Only strange thing from where I stand is that I found you slinking around in the dark with only a stupid story to explain your presence.”

“It’s not stupid. I often walk the woods in the evening,” she insisted.

“Ridiculous and unsafe. Perhaps I can coax the truth from you,” he said hoarsely. He bent his head, and she still didn’t budge.

A sure sign she felt the same chemistry as he did.

Because of the transient nature of his job, he didn’t allow himself to become too emotionally invested in any woman. But physically...that was another matter. What would this woman be like as a lover? Passionate, no doubt. If he could put up with her saucy tongue.

His mouth found hers.

Despite his calculated move, doubt assailed him. What the hell was he doing?

She pressed her full lips against his and groaned softly. The sound undid him—it had been too long since he’d been with a woman. He placed his hands on the sides of her waist and drew her even closer. Damn, she felt good. No, not good...great. Fantastic. They’d be perfect in bed together.

“Stop.” Tallulah stepped out of his arms.

Payton blinked at the unexpected emptiness and his hands fell to his sides. Even for him, he’d assumed too much, too quickly. He’d been carried away with passion from a mere kiss. What was the matter with him? “Sorry. Too much, too fast?”

She regarded him for several heartbeats. “You don’t know me. You don’t even like me.”

No denying that. He gave her a lopsided smile. “You’re growing on me.”

Her mouth trembled, as if she were about to smile, but she pressed her lips into a frown. “I have my own doubts about you, too. Am I crazy, or did a wolf enter your farmhouse about ten minutes ago?”

Chills doused the fever her body had created, and he became aware of the rain running in rivulets down his arms and face. Tallulah’s words plunged him back into reality. Apprehension replaced desire in a heartbeat.

“A wolf?” he repeated stupidly, buying time. “Not supposed to be any wolves in this part of the country.”

She crossed her arms. “Exactly. That’s what I thought. But I know what I saw.”

So someone had slipped out into the woods and shifted. A violation of the new pack rules. As a precaution, Matt had ordered that they only shift in pairs. That way, if one of them developed the lycanthropic fever, it would be impossible to hide the symptoms of their bloodlust from each other while in wolf form. Yet someone had violated the alpha’s edict. Why?

“You thought wrong,” he stated flatly, trying to create doubt and throw her off. “A wild animal wouldn’t let you get that close. It’d smell you a mile off.”

How had she managed to see this? Now that he thought of it, her human smell had been faint when he stepped outside. It should have been much stronger. Tallulah held his gaze, unflinching and challenging. He rubbed his chin, studying her exotic beauty. She was a mystery, a most unusual female. “I’ve never met a woman quite like you.”

“No,” she quickly agreed. “You have not. Now about that wolf—”

“There is no wolf.”

“Was.”

“Wasn’t.”

The rain picked up, and leaves rustled in the heightened wind. They stared at each other, bristling like wary dogs.

“We appear to have reached an impasse,” he said at last. Apparently, there was no changing her mind with mere words.

Tallulah held up a hand and stared up at the rain. “For now. I’ll be on my way.”

He couldn’t let her escape so quickly. Know your enemy. He had to win her trust, find out more about her. Ensure her silence if needed. “Wait. We started off on the wrong foot. It’s ugly out here, let me make it up to you by giving you a lift home.”

Tallulah hesitated. Was his presence so distasteful now that she’d rather wander home—alone at night—in the rain? “C’mon,” he said cajolingly. “Don’t be stupid.”

Her chin jutted forward in a now-familiar gesture, and she opened her mouth—no doubt the precursor to some sharp retort. Calling her stupid was no way to win her over. Time for damage control. Payton flashed his most charming smile. “What kind of gentleman would let a lady walk home at night in a storm?”

“How about the same gentleman who called a lady stupid?”

He bowed gallantly. “My bad. Please let me drive you home, or I’ll worry about you all night.”

“Yeah, right,” she said with a snort. “You’re not exactly my idea of a knight in shining armor.”

He kept his smile in place, although it took great effort. “I have a feeling your standards run extremely high. Besides, no one could mistake you for a damsel in distress.”

“Damn right. I can take care of myself.”

With that, she turned on her heel and started down the gravel driveway, her back ramrod straight. Same posture as that morning when she’d left the work site in a huff. The rain picked up, saturating her hair and clothes, making her appear sleek and even more sexy. Tallulah didn’t even hurry her pace. A woman used to the elements, impervious to nature’s nuances.

It appealed to his inner, primal wolf. That hidden part of himself that was also at one with the night and the land. His pulse raced as he imagined the two of them in some hidden forest glade, naked and wet, making love under a full moon as rain caressed their bodies.

He blinked, coming out of his hormonal trance. Damn, if she didn’t do the weirdest things to his mind. Tallulah was already at the end of the drive and stepping out onto the road. Payton ran a hand through his soaked hair and dug the truck keys out of his pocket. Quickly, he jumped in the truck, cranked up the engine and eased out of the tangle of vehicles.

Tallulah never even turned around as he pulled up beside her on the road. He unrolled the passenger side window.

“Get in,” he barked.

She kept her face forward, her angular profile set in stone. “No, thank you.”

Son of a bitch. Payton shifted to Park, scrambled from the truck and marched in front of Tallulah, blocking her direct path. Just as she had blocked him this morning on the skidder. “C’mon, Tallulah. This is ridiculous.”

It wasn’t just a matter of getting wet. It was dark, and a member of the pack had violated house rules by roaming in wolf form, so who knew if others were doing the same, and damn it, he couldn’t stand seeing a woman walk the streets alone at night. Even one as strong and stubborn as Tallulah.

A sudden thought floored him. “You aren’t afraid of getting in the truck with me, are you?”

“’Course not.” Her chin lifted.

Payton hid his smile and opened the passenger door. “Well then,” he said, gesturing her to enter. If he guessed correctly, she wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

“I guess I could use a lift,” she said ungraciously, her mouth twisting. “If you’re sure.”

Tallulah climbed in the old Chevy and he shut the door, hurrying to the driver’s side and getting out of the pouring rain.

She sat as far from him as possible, her body jammed against the door. “Does the entire timber crew live out here?” she asked with a nod toward the farmhouse.

Payton shot her a sideways glance as he shifted into Drive and pulled away. Evidently, he wasn’t the only one fishing for more information. “We do. It’s more convenient that way. What about you? Do you live alone?”

“Yes.”

“No, Mister Silver?” he asked.

“Only my twin brother. No husband and no father.” She faced him, direct as usual. “You married?”

“Nope.” He could be as circumspect as she could.

They came to a stop sign. “Right or left?” he asked. “I need directions.”

“Take a right. I live about seven miles down this road.”

“Pretty long walk you took tonight,” he observed. And she was willing to walk that distance alone in the rain? Just to spite him?

“I’m in excellent health,” she said icily.

He surreptitiously glanced at the shirt clinging to her full breasts, the toned biceps of her arms, her long, lean legs. What he wouldn’t give to see her without clothing, to explore every inch of her fit, golden body. Something about her drove him wild, made him as sex-obsessed as a teenager hyped up on testosterone.

The windshield wipers beat out a steady rhythm, emphasizing the charged silence between them. Tallulah didn’t speak again for several minutes, and when she did, it was a curt instruction. “This is it. Slow down and turn on the next dirt road to your right.”

The unpaved road twisted and curved for at least a quarter mile. A wooden cabin appeared, surrounded by magnolias and oaks. Small, but not too rustic.

“Nice place.”

Her mouth curved into a genuine smile, the first one he’d seen. It transformed her into a radiant beauty. “Thanks. Tombi, my brother, built it. He’s a carpenter.”

One of her hands was already on the handle. She was ready to jump out and slip away into the dark night.

“Can I see you sometime?” he asked quickly, before Tallulah could make her escape. For all her bravery, she was on the skittish side. Somehow, he needed to earn her trust, discover if she harbored secrets, as he did.

She gave him a considering look. “It’s a small town. We can’t help but run in to each other again.”

Ruefully, he watched as she slammed the door shut, strode purposefully to the cabin and never once looked back. So much for making headway by acting charming and gallant. At least he knew where she lived, and that was a start.

Payton turned the truck around and went back down the driveway. You betcha I’ll run in to you, Miss Tallulah Silver. We have unfinished business.


Chapter 3 (#uc0b8ef2a-0bb7-5199-8460-a997e0596782)

Tallulah scrambled out of her vehicle, clutching her coffee cup, and joined her brother and over a dozen of their friends—mostly fellow shadow hunters—where they gathered by the timber site.

Dawn had barely broken, but the logging crew would be arriving soon. She approached her twin. “What did you find out about this property?” she asked with no preamble.

“It belongs to Hank and Sashy Potts. Rumor is that they’re hoping to sell it to developers interested in building a strip mall and a storage warehouse on the outskirts of the bayou. They’re making it more attractive to them by clearing the land. And in the process, the couple are making a huge profit selling the timber.”

“This is Hank’s doing,” she said darkly. “Always was one to sell out for a quick buck.”

“You’re right about that. Sashy’s a decent sort of person, though.” Tombi raked a hand through his long black hair. “We might make more headway putting pressure on them than harassing the timber crew. Whether we like it or not, they’re just doing their job.”

She sipped her coffee and gazed at the gashed landscape. “No reason we can’t attack it from both ends.”

“Can’t be out here every day protesting,” Chulah said. “We all have jobs, including you.”

“There’s always the weekends,” she muttered.

Several vehicles pulled onto the side of the road, including a faded red Chevy truck. Payton and the other workers had arrived.

She watched as he jumped out of his truck and sauntered over their way, along with Matt, the crew supervisor. Her stomach gave an eager, betraying little lurch. If she’d hoped seeing Payton again in the broad light of day would make her come to her senses, she was dead wrong. If anything, the dawn’s light shining on his ash-blond hair and the hard flint of gunmetal-gray eyes made her toes curl. None of last night’s good humor or desire showed in his face today. In fact, he didn’t look at all pleased to see her. Had she really kissed this foreboding man last night? Felt his desire pressing against her abdomen?

Matt spoke first. “What are you all doing here?”

“Protesting the desecration of our land,” she said quickly. “I told you I’d be back with more people.”

“You got a permit for this demonstration?” Matt scowled, ignoring her as he stared at Tombi.

Two natural-born leaders seemed to recognize each other on some primitive level. Must be some testosterone signals in the air.

“Don’t need one,” Tombi said levelly. “This strip of land we’re standing on is public property. We’re not on your work site.”

“Make sure it stays that way,” Matt said with a growl. “We don’t take kindly to intruders on our property.” He pinned her with a direct stare.

Tallulah’s gaze flew to Payton. So he’d told Matt she’d been at the farmhouse last night.

She drew her shoulders back and regarded Matt with a level stare. “If that’s a threat, you don’t scare me.”

“What’s all this about?” Tombi asked, puzzled.

“Payton caught her skulking behind one of our vehicles at the house last night. If there’s any damage to our vehicles or property, we know where to look.”

“It’s not your house, it belongs to Jeb Johnson,” she said hotly. “And I’d never destroy—”

Tombi cut her off. “None of us are going to hurt your stuff. That’s not our way.”

Matt huffed. “See that you don’t.” He aimed another glare at Tallulah, then stalked away.

“Well, that’s a fun start to the morning,” she drawled, staring accusingly at Payton.

“He has a right to know what’s going on.”

“I’d like someone to clue me into what’s happening,” Tombi insisted.

Payton raised a brow. “And you are...?”

“Tombi Silver, Tallulah’s brother.”

Payton extended a hand. “Nice to meet you. Tallulah spoke of you last night.”

Her twin shot her a quizzical look as he shook hands with Payton.

“We met yesterday when she stood in front of my skidder while I was doing my job,” Payton continued. His manner was calm and friendly. Damn him. “Then we ran in to each other again last night when I found her hiding behind one of our vehicles at the house.”

Her cheeks flamed. He was painting her in the worst possible light.

“Is that true?” Tombi asked her. His face grew rigid, which meant he was getting riled.

“Yes, but—”

“It won’t happen again,” Tombi said to Payton.

“You can’t speak for me,” she sputtered. Her brother might be the leader of the shadow hunters, but he had no right to act so bossy.

Payton nodded. “Thanks. Much appreciated. We’ll just put this unpleasantness behind us.”

He faced her, his mouth upturned in one corner. She couldn’t tell if he was smirking or was genuinely amused at her expense. He held out his hand and she glanced down at it like it was a snake. She was conscious of all the protestors watching the little drama. If she refused to shake Payton’s hand, everyone would accuse her of being surly and unreasonable. And that meant the protests to the land destruction might cease.

Reluctantly, she placed her hand in his and then quickly tried to pull back.

Payton maintained a tight grip. “I’m still interested in that date we talked about, if your social calendar happens to be free.”

Someone in the crowd snickered.

Tallulah seethed. He made it sound like they were already an item. Well, she had kissed him, but she hadn’t agreed to a date.

Payton let go of her hand and smiled genially at Tombi. “Maybe we could all get together for dinner sometime and talk.”

“I’d like that,” Tombi agreed at once. “Matter of fact, if you’re free tonight, my wife and I would love to have you over to our place for supper. About seven?”

“Great, thanks.” Payton gave her a triumphant wave. “Pick you up about quarter ’til the hour. I remember the way.”

Tallulah rounded on her brother. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

“I think it’s time we all took our leave,” Chulah said. “I’ve worked on Hank’s motorcycle a time or two and know him fairly well. I’ll see if I can talk to him about the land. Find out for sure what’s going on.”

“We’ll just stay a bit longer,” one of the protestors said. “Make a general nuisance of ourselves and see if we can stop their cutting for the rest of the day.”

“Why did you invite him to dinner?” she continued. “I don’t want to see him.”

Tombi raised a brow. “You sure about that? I saw the way you looked at him when he walked over to you.”

A telling warmth flooded her cheeks. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t have anything to do with the issue. The fact is, he’s destroying our land and—”

Tombi raised a hand. “Did you or did you not go over to their farmhouse without permission?”

“Yes, but—”

“We’ll talk about it at dinner tonight. Okay? I’ve got a busy day scheduled with work.” His face softened. “Listen, sis. I think it’s terrific you’re interested in seeing someone again. I know how tough it’s been on you with Bo’s death and then that mess with Hanan. This Payton seems like a nice enough guy. Give him a chance.”

With that, he strode away and left her standing, mouth ajar. What had just happened here? The roar of a machine erupted nearby and she glanced toward the sound.

Payton raised a hand and waved at her, a grin splitting his face.

* * *

Jillian slanted Payton a long, assessing look as she stood by the stove, stirring soup made with fresh vegetables from the local market. The lone female of their pack, she kept their various residencies running smoothly and was indispensable in keeping them organized.

Inwardly, he groaned. Since she’d already seen him headed for the fridge, he continued on, brushing past her. A musky pheromone scent, a harbinger of desire, hovered close to her body like a horny aura.

He pretended not to notice as he poured a glass of iced tea and returned the pitcher to the refrigerator.

Jillian smiled tentatively. “Haven’t seen much of you since we arrived in Alabama,” she said.

“Been busy,” he mumbled, knowing the excuse was lame.

Her smile faltered. “Are you upset with me about anything? Have I done something wrong?”

“’Course not. Been busy settling in with the new job. That’s all.”

Damn. How was he going to get out of this without hurting her feelings? Sure, they’d shared a few experimental kisses and more over the last couple months, but she didn’t excite him. Not like Tallulah. Damn it to hell. He desperately wished he desired Jillian. After all, she was the alpha’s sister. Mating with her would be acceptable within the pack. As she was the only female wolf in the group, several of the males would jump at the chance to mate with Jillian.

He was a fool.

Payton took a long swallow of tea. He needed to find a tactful way to break it off, but he wasn’t sure which would be worse—Jillian’s hurt or Matt’s anger.

“I made that stew you like and homemade bread to go with it,” she said.

“Sorry, I’ve got plans for supper tonight.”

“Plans?” she asked, her mouth slightly downturned. “What kind of plans?”

He suppressed a sigh. “With a couple of friends.” Not a lie, but not the whole story, either. It was easier to avoid a confrontation. He kept hoping she’d get the message he wasn’t interested, but Jillian was persistent.

“We’ve only been here a week. You sure make friends fast.”

Did he imagine the disapproving note in her voice? He left every conversation with her feeling vaguely guilty.

“I’m a friendly kind of guy,” he mumbled.

Russell winked at him from the hallway, and Payton scowled at his best friend. Nothing funny about the situation—just pure awkwardness. With another wink, his friend strolled into the kitchen.

“We’ve got a couple hours free this afternoon before you have to get ready for your date,” Russell offered. “Let’s take a stroll and go exploring.”

“Date?” Jillian asked sharply. “I thought you said it was dinner with friends.”

“A date with friends,” he said grimly. Payton hurried out of the kitchen, rolling his eyes at Russell, but still thankful for the diversionary tactic he’d provided. Perfect opportunity to bail out of the heavy talk with Jillian.

“A walk sounds great,” he replied, trying to keep the relief out of his voice. “Later, Jillian.”

They beat a hasty exit out the back door. Heat slammed into every pore of his body, and he sighed. “Thanks, man. Although you didn’t have to mention the date part.”

Russell chuckled. “Thought I’d give her a little wake-up call. Been in that situation before. You want her to get the message, but at the same time you have to tread easy with her feelings or risk Matt’s wrath.”

“Like I didn’t know that,” he muttered. How the hell was he supposed to manage that?

Guilt twisted his gut. He’d never meant to encourage Jillian. He hadn’t discouraged her, either, if he was being honest. He’d hoped that one day his feelings would change, or that he’d want to settle down with an acceptable mate. Which was totally unfair to Jillian. A beautiful woman, and a shapeshifter like himself, shouldn’t have to wait for anyone. She deserved more.

Payton followed Russell across the cotton field. His friend was more familiar with the new place since Payton hadn’t had much time for exploring.

“This job is turning out to be a pain in the ass,” Russell said. “For such a small town, they’ve had lots of people show up protesting our work.”

Payton hid a grin. Tallulah had shown up that morning with almost a dozen people, peacefully protesting the tree clearing. And by peaceful, he didn’t mean pleasant. It was as if the momentary closeness of last night had never happened. Tallulah had been as abrasive as at their first meeting, frowning, snapping and making a general nuisance of herself at every opportunity. Work had slowed to a snail’s pace, and Matt had decided they might as well take off early. “They’ll get tired of protesting after a few days,” Matt had predicted.

Payton wasn’t so sure. The others might tire, but he guessed Tallulah was made of sterner stuff.

“Do you ever feel bad about the work we do? I mean, we do destroy the land.”

If he couldn’t talk about this with his best friend, who could he talk to?

Russell shrugged. “Nah. If we don’t do it, someone else will.”

That reasoning didn’t entirely soothe his conscience, even though he’d used that excuse as well. Plenty of wrongs had been committed throughout history with the same justification.

“What about vet school? You used to dream of being a veterinarian when we were in high school.”

“Idle dreams. I didn’t have the grades to cut it,” Russell said. “You know me.”

“Well enough to know that if you’d applied yourself to your studies, you’d have made it. Always were smart as hell.”

Unlike himself. The only thing he’d ever shown aptitude for was mechanical tinkering.

“You don’t have to work a skidder all your life.” Russell peered at him intently. “There’s room in the pack if you want to leave the lumber crew and try something you like better.”

Payton bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean? That I’m not needed?”

“Relax, dude. I’m saying there’s enough men in the timber crew that you can branch out on your own.”

Something of Payton’s reluctance must have shown on his face, and Russell shook his head. “I get it. You feel like you owe Matt and the others for taking you in. But you don’t. No one will think less of you for leaving the crew.”

“Maybe not you. Others might.”

Russell had been a true friend when Payton first entered the pack, one of the few to accept him unconditionally. His parents had died in a terrible boat accident when he was a teenager, and he’d been left alone in the world until the pack brought him in. Given his father’s murderous past, Payton would always be grateful that Matt took him under his wing, and for Russell’s immediate friendship.

“Doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks,” Russell insisted. “As long as Matt understands, that’s all that counts.”

“All right, already. I’ll consider it one day.”

They both knew it was a lie. Payton avoided anything that made it appear he’d deliberately distance himself from the pack. He would not be like his father.

As they hiked the small trail from the field and into the woods, Payton unwound, soothed by the unique beauty of the bayou. Thanks to the shade from a canopy of trees, the temperature cooled considerably.

“It’s way different than out west, but it’s pretty amazing here,” Payton commented. “Has a spooky feel with all that Spanish moss and those gnarled cypress trees.”

“It’s different, all right. Wait ’til you see what I found close by.”

Curious, Payton followed. A few twists and turns later, Russell stopped. “This is it.”

Feathers and ribbons hung from low-lying branches in about a twelve-foot-wide diameter that was bordered by seashells. The sandy soil was raked clean with precisely placed crystals sparkling in the ground like unearthed treasure. In the center was a pile of rocks and timber for a fire.

Payton stepped inside the circle, feeling as if he was violating sacred land. He touched a faded ribbon and inspected the hanging artifacts. “Dream catchers,” he said, remembering the miniature one Tallulah had worn.

“I know that,” Russell scoffed. “But what are they doing out here in the middle of the woods? It’s weird. And kinda creepy.”

Strange, yes. But the feel of the area was peaceful, if a bit melancholy.

“Beats me what the purpose of this place could be.”

He walked around the edge of the circle, examining the crystal grids and the dozens of hanging dream catchers. A bright red ribbon caught his eye. It had not yet faded like the others, and the turkey feather fastened beside the ribbon looked new. Payton held it, turning it in different directions. A small patch of beadwork on the back, only a couple of inches long, read For Bo, Love Always, Tallulah.

His breath caught. Who was Bo? His palm fisted over the beaded message. His Tallulah was in love. Jealousy, then shock, washed through him. Tallulah wasn’t his anything. He dropped his hand to his side and looked at the area with new eyes. Was this some lovers’ tryst, far from prying eyes? If so, why the secrecy? Why the elaborate decorations?

“Hey, found something,” Russell called. “Come here and check out this carving.”

Payton strode to where Russell stood by a massive oak, fingers tracing a primitive message—RIP Bohpoli.

Bohpoli—Bo?

Of course. This wasn’t a secret meeting place for lovers. It was a shrine to a dead lover.

“What’s a Bohpoli?” Russell asked.

“I suspect it’s a person’s name. That person must have died here. You know, like you see crosses by the side of roads, marking where loved ones died in a car accident.”

“Makes sense. But the survivors have gone a little over the top, don’t you think?”

Payton took in the meticulous care and attention, at the various states of decline in the dream catchers’ ribbons and feathers. Tallulah had loved long, and loved deeply. Underneath that prickly exterior was a highly sensitive woman. One that maddened and intrigued him all at once.

“Over the top?” Payton said, aware of a loneliness he didn’t know existed until that moment. “Maybe. But it would be damn nice to have someone love you like that.”

“Amen, brother. Amen.”

* * *

Annie served everyone salad and dinner began.

Tallulah’s normally reticent brother and Payton seemed to be getting along famously, chitchatting about motorcycles and places to see while in Bayou La Siryna—which weren’t many unless you were into nature sights. Tallulah didn’t see how a lumberjack could possibly appreciate natural settings.

“The wildlife sanctuary is open on Saturdays,” Tombi said, helping himself to more salad.

“I don’t think Payton’s interested in wildlife.” She smiled sweetly. “Considering how he’s part of a team destroying their habitat every day.”

“Disturbing the snakes and skeeters and possums? ’Cause that’s all I’ve observed down here so far.”

“We have deer and gators and yellowhammers...” She stopped at the grin on his face. Yep, she’d taken his bait and run with it. She laid down her fork. “It really doesn’t bother you to cut down trees for a living?”

“Tallulah,” Annie admonished gently.

Tombi shot her a warning look. “Payton’s a guest in our house.”

“It’s okay.” Payton set down his glass of tea. “I’ll admit it bothers me a little. But it’s honest, tax-paying work and I’m not ashamed of my job.”

“At least you didn’t make the excuse that if you didn’t do it someone else would,” she muttered.

“Well, there is that.”

“Chulah spoke to Hank today,” Tombi interrupted, taking the heat off Payton. “Hank said if the developers offered him a good deal on the land, he would take it. Can’t blame a man for doing what he needs to with his own land.”

“Don’t you care about our woods? This could start a bad precedent.”

“Hank and Sashy have two children starting college in a few years,” Annie said quietly. “There’s two sides to every story.”

“I still don’t like it,” she insisted.

Annie stood and began collecting plates. “Hope you like pot roast and potatoes,” she said to Payton.

“Love it.”

Tallulah stood as well and gathered up her and Payton’s plates, then followed Annie into the kitchen.

“Might want to go a little easier on your date,” Annie said offhandedly.

“He’s not my...oh, okay. I’ll give him a pass for the evening. But I’m still going to protest what they’re doing.”

Annie pulled the roast out of the oven and set it on the counter. “Maybe that won’t be needed. I think all we have to do is send April over to sweet-talk Sashy. Chulah’s wife will convince her the deal is bad.”

“That’s actually a great idea,” Annie agreed. “Sashy can get her husband to come around. All we need to do is ask April to wield her magic.”

“Magic?” Payton stood in the doorway.

Tallulah and Annie exchanged a secret smile.

“So to speak,” Annie said.

“What are you doing in here?” Tallulah asked bluntly. Was he trying to sneak up on them?

“Came to see if you needed any help.”

Annie handed him a pair of kitchen gloves. “You can carry in this casserole dish if you’d like.”

The sight of the tall, handsome lumberjack wearing kitchen gloves made Tallulah want to giggle. No, take that back. It was adorable. Melt-your-heart kind of cute. She grabbed the basket of rolls and followed him back to the dining room.

The rest of dinner proceeded smoothly and they left the cabin after another hour or so of après-dinner drinks and talking.

The warm glow on the drive home wasn’t just from partaking of Tombi’s excellent whiskey. The blond giant driving beside her had much to do with her good humor. She glanced at him, suddenly shy. “Glad we could set aside our differences for the evening.”

He laid a hand on her left thigh. “I have high hopes for us.”

She eyed his hand suspiciously. If Payton had high hopes about sleeping with her on a first date, he could think again.

At her cabin, he hurried to open her car door and escorted her to the front door.

The awkward moment had arrived. “Would you like to come in for coffee?”

He leaned an arm against the door and stared at her, his gray eyes so dark that the glints of blue in them were the subtle hue of an oiled, polished handgun. “Better not,” he said gruffly. “You’re much too tempting.”

“I am?” Her voice was a whisper in the breeze.

“Very much so. First dates, I don’t believe in anything more physical than a kiss.”

She laughed.

“I’m serious.”

Tallulah cocked her head to the side and studied his face. Yes, he meant what he’d said. She found it oddly endearing. Old-fashioned, chivalrous and sexy as all get-out. She stuck out a hand. “If you’d like we can just shake hands and call it a night.”

“Not on your life.”

He bent down and claimed her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers until she felt weak-kneed and fevered, never wanting it to end.

He drew back and then rested his forehead on hers. “I better go, Lulu.”

“Okay,” she agreed, still in a haze. She inserted the key into the lock opened the door and then swiftly turned back to him. “What did you call me?

“Lulu. Tallulah is a mouthful.”

She frowned. “I don’t like it. It sounds...undignified.”

“It’s adorable. It suits you.”

“Humph.” She shut the door and went to the window, watching as Payton drove off. The man could make her go from joy to irritation in two seconds. And passion? It always seemed to shimmer between them like a promise.

* * *

He began his slow descent to a night of freedom—no small feat considering that it was under the noses of over a dozen pack members. Even sleeping, their heightened senses were sensitive to noise. Ever so slowly, he climbed out of bed and padded barefoot out of the bedroom, down the hall and stairs and through the den. At the back door he paused for several minutes, ears alert for the slightest stirring of movement.

They would never understand.

The blood thirst churned his gut and would not be sated, no matter how hard he tried.

Satisfied that the rest of the pack was still asleep, he turned the doorknob with painstaking carefulness. He briefly considered shifting and using the doggie door, but it had an annoying flap that was surprisingly noisy. Carefully, he slipped into the dark cover of night. Even then, he had to exercise extreme caution. He scurried to the hedges at the side of the house and shape-shifted. Bone and sinew twisted and transformed skin to fur. Two legs multiplied to four and his large paws padded on the soil. Belly close to the ground, he crept to the middle of the cotton field, just in case someone had wakened and chanced to look out a window.

His heart beat more rapidly, pulsing with the conflicting emotions of excitement and revulsion. And then he was free—racing into the woods, tongue panting, senses alive with the smell and sounds of the night.

It’ll be okay. I’ll find some small animal again. I can control the blood hunger.

Alabama was a new start. Never again would he kill a human. It was too dangerous for him and for the whole pack. If they ever caught on to his secret, his life would be over. From here on out, he’d content his bloodlust by feasting on small animals.

And so, once more, he was on the hunt.

He sniffed and tracked a scent, only to bungle the catch, as several hares took off when he came within a few feet of them. A lone wolf on the prowl was not the natural way of the hunt. They were pack animals for a reason, working together with patience and intelligence to track prey and target the weakest animal in a group.

He’d been outside for a good while now. Every minute he was out alone, he risked the others realizing his secret. But he couldn’t go back without something to ease the stomach cramps caused by a lack of blood and flesh. He continued hunting, close to the cotton field, reduced to rumbling his snout through leaves to rouse field mice.

Not how he’d imagined his future. But to admit to the pack that he’d been infected by the fever was unthinkable. They’d haul him away to that so-called rehabilitation compound in the barren desert, although—to his knowledge—no wolf had ever been cured. It would be a fenced-in existence with constant surveillance. A werewolf prison where all were condemned to the equivalent of a life-without-parole sentence.

He’d rather die.

Like a dog with a prize buried bone, he circled around to the outdoor memorial decorated with dream catchers. The feathers and ribbons fluttered like agitated ghosts. Just as well the bitch wasn’t present. His chest still smarted from the rocks she’d flung. He’d been lucky not to suffer a serious injury.

A rustling emerged at the edge of the field, to his left. His ears twitched and his belly rumbled. This sounded like a large, clumsy animal. His mouth salivated at the faint whiff of human.

Torture—like a glass of cold water waved in front of a man dying of thirst. He hesitated. No harm in going to take a look. It could be one of the other pack members had also violated the new rule of no roaming alone in the woods. He crept toward the noise and the smell.

A gray-haired man with a long beard tossed dried corn kernels from a burlap sack. A hunter illegally enticing deer.

He didn’t think. He didn’t plan.

One moment he was an observer, and the next, he was flying down the field and taking a running leap at the old man. Teeth ripped into flesh, tearing open the jugular vein at the man’s neck. Warm blood oozed down his throat as he greedily swallowed it. He was dizzy with elation and the hunger in his belly ceased its relentless gnaw.

It was done.

He sat back on his haunches, full and content. Until he observed the dead man, broken and bleeding, his knapsack of corn spilled into the soil like gold nuggets.

Not again. What have I done?

He whimpered and backed away. When this body was discovered, the questions and accusations would begin anew. Disgust roiled in his gut. He hated himself, hated what he had become.

He slunk back to the farmhouse and briefly considered confessing to the pack. That was one way out of this hell his life had become over the last three years.

But shame and fear overcame good intentions. He couldn’t live like a caged animal.

There would be no repeat offense, he vowed. Somehow, he would learn to control the lust for human blood.


Chapter 4 (#uc0b8ef2a-0bb7-5199-8460-a997e0596782)

Saturdays were the longest days of the week. The Native American Cultural Center, where Tallulah worked, was closed, and that meant an entire day to bide her time with nothing more pressing than housework—which she loathed.

Tallulah loaded the last of the laundry in the washer and looked out the open window. The sky was washed clear of gray clouds and the earth smelled as if cleansed by last night’s storm. Too gorgeous a day to be stay stuck inside the cabin. A nice long stroll, then back home for a shower before heading to Tombi’s for dinner.

She ran outside, eager as a child let out for recess, then stopped abruptly, patting the loose strands of hair plastered on her face. They’d strayed from her messy topknot and she wore an old T-shirt and shorts. Fine for housework but... Tallulah hurried back inside, changed into fresh clothes and ran a brush through her hair.

I am not doing this in the hopes of running in to Payton. She scowled at the mirror before swiping a tube of red lipstick across her lips. This was merely an attempt to avoid looking like a total slob. Since when has that concerned me?

“Oh, shut up,” she mumbled at her reflection. A spritz of rose perfume and she was off again. She entered the woods, walking briskly, intent on exercise. She flung her arms in wide circles, working out the kinks from her pinched shoulders, which were stiff from scrubbing the bathroom and kitchen floors. No need to tote the heavy backpack during the day.

Unless she came upon that wolf again.

Tallulah shook her head. No borrowing trouble this morning. It was her day off, and that meant no shadow-hunting duties as well. Finishing the laundry could wait until evening. A nice day walking in the woods, dinner later with Tombi and Annie, and then she’d curl up with a good book and read until bedtime. She had her Saturday routine down pat.

So why did that deflate her spirits?

She pushed the uncomfortable feelings aside. Ever since she’d met Payton, a vague dissatisfaction with her quiet, predictable life troubled Tallulah. He meant nothing to her. Nothing. He was a damn lumberjack of all things. Part of a transient crew that could be gone anytime.

Her sneakers squished in the woods’ muddy patches and her legs were speckled with mud. So much for trying to look presentable. At a fork in the path, she paused. No point in going to Bo’s resting place. The storm had no doubt spoiled her handiwork and she wasn’t in the mood to tidy up the site yet again.

She continued on until she reached the clearing by the farmhouse. By day it looked quiet and peaceful. No mysterious creatures hovering about. And no sign of Payton.

Not that she cared.

A smell of rotten carcass assaulted her nose. Probably a dead deer. Yet a tingle of apprehension chased down her spine and she shivered. A faint, familiar feeling also stirred her memory. Had the wolf killed the animal? If so, at least the wolf wouldn’t be looking at her with those cagey, threatening eyes. Its belly should be full.

A compulsion to find the source of the foul odor gripped her mind. Tallulah tracked the scent. No special shadow-hunter ability needed for this. It grew stronger and tangier, enough to make her eyes water. She lifted her T-shirt over her nose and breathed out of her mouth as much as possible. Tallulah stopped abruptly at the edge of the field, where flies swarmed low to the ground. This was it.

She crept closer, not wanting to get too near. Only close enough to glimpse what had died.

Yellow corn kernels dotted the ground where they’d spilled from a burlap sack. A patch of blue denim, a black T-shirt and a gray beard—the body was human. Bile rose in her throat, caustic and burning. She was used to wisps, trapped souls, Ishkitini and other shadow spirits. Not this carnage of blood, flesh and bone. Did she know the victim? She edged forward for a closer view. The neck was torn open and blood stained the front of the dark T-shirt. Dried globules of red liquid speckled his gray beard. His face was as white as a cotton sheet, as if all the blood had drained out. Even though his features were contorted in pain, she recognized him.

It was Jeb Johnson, owner of the farm. Evidently, he’d been out illegally baiting deer and something or someone had caught up to him. Killed him. Brutally, at that. But why? Jeb mostly kept to himself—he was a quiet man who worked his land and hunted and fished. A widower, his sons were grown and they seemingly got along well with one another.

Tawny wolf eyes glittered in her mind’s eye. But even that made no sense. A wolf wouldn’t attack a human unless it was starving and there was no other prey available. These woods were filled with squirrels and rabbits and mice, enough to fill its belly.

She’d seen enough. Tallulah ran to the farmhouse, intent on reporting the news. Jeb was dead, but the sooner the cops arrived and observed the body, the more clues they might gather to solve the murder. She rapped sharply at the door.

A handsome, genial male opened the door, raised his brows in surprise and then grinned.

“Hello, little lady. Can I help you?”

“There’s a—a...” Her breath grew more shallow and she bent at the waist, catching her breath. “There’s been a murder. Call the sheriff.”

The grin slipped from his face. “Who? Murder, you say?”

“Call 911.”

“Of course.”

He started to shut the door in her face. Damn, if only she’d brought her cell phone. She never could remember to carry the stupid thing everywhere she went.

Tallulah threw her weight on the door with her right shoulder and slipped inside. The man was stronger than she was, but her quick maneuver had caught him unaware and she pushed past him.

At least a dozen men sat around the den, in various stages of undress. A few, apparently, had just arisen. At least half wore only shorts and sported shadows of a beard. The smells of bacon and coffee pervaded from the adjoined kitchen to the left. Payton was nowhere to be found.

The man who’d answered the door walked in front of her, blocking her view. “Bad news, guys. There’s been a murder.”

Tallulah stepped to his side and eyed the men.

“Shit—”

“Damn it—”

“What the—?”

One of the men rose, his forgotten breakfast plate crashing to the floor. “Not again.”

Tallulah zeroed in on his clean-shaven features. Not again? “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked. “Has this happened before?”

Warning glances passed around the group and an unnatural silence descended.

A tall man with close-cropped black hair strode her way. She recognized him as the timber crew’s supervisor.

“Who’s been murdered? Where’s the body?” he demanded. His blue eyes were arctic—cold and piercing.

“In the field behind your house. Call the cops.”

No one moved.

Tallulah stiffened. Their reactions were off. Way off. Any other crowd this size, over half of them would have already whipped out their ever-present cell phones and called the police. Too late, she recalled the strange creature who had entered this very house. The wolf no one claimed to notice. And Jeb’s bloody neck could have been the result of a bite. Chills ghosted up her spine.

“We’ll take care of everything,” the leader said smoothly. His eyes narrowed. “You look familiar...oh yeah, you’re one of those protestors. Ms. Silver, isn’t it?” He turned to the man who’d answered the door. “Eli, go upstairs and get Payton.”

Eli immediately bounded up the wooden stairs. The leader gripped her forearm. “Show me where you found the body.”

“After you call the cops,” she insisted. Bossy men like him couldn’t intimidate her.

He spoke to one of the guys, his eyes never leaving her face. “Adam, call 911. Now, Ms. Silver, I want to see the body.”

“You can view it along with the sheriff,” she countered, thrusting out her chin.

Shock widened his pupils. He was obviously used to being instantly obeyed. At least Adam was on the phone, reporting the murder.

He released her arm and faced the men. “Everyone go out, divide up and check the field and its perimeter.”

The men scrambled to follow his orders. Two sets of footsteps clamored down the stairs. Eli and Payton emerged.

Payton’s blond hair glistened, and tiny rivulets of water fell down his face. He wore jeans, but no shirt. The dark hair on his muscular chest was matted. He was sleek and lean and sexy as hell after his morning shower.

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Of course it’s you, stirring up trouble first thing in the morning. Should have guessed.”

“This is no laughing matter,” the leader snapped. “Another body’s been found.”

Another. Tallulah noticed his choice of words.

Payton’s face paled underneath his tan. All traces of humor vanished. “No,” he whispered, his voice strangled.

“So there’s been other bodies? Other murders?” she asked.

The leader’s jaw clenched. “You’re the only one saying murder. How do you know this person didn’t die from natural causes?”

She shuddered, recalling the mauled neck, the loss of blood.

Payton came to her at once. “Come, sit,” he ordered. “You look like hell. Must have been a shock to find the body.”

He tossed an arm over her shoulders and she leaned into his solid mass, smelling soap and shampoo. Warmth washed over her body and she allowed him to seat her on the beat-up leather sofa in the den. She stared at her hands that violently shook in her lap.

Payton closed his strong hands over her trembling ones. “Delayed reaction,” he said. “I’m sure the shock is starting to catch up to you.”

Somehow he understood, even if the dead body’s effect on her nerves surprised even Tallulah. Death and destruction were no strangers to a shadow hunter. But she was used to dealing with animals and spirits—not coming upon a mauled, human carcass.

Poor Jeb. First, the fire last year that had destroyed most of his cotton crop and damn near bankrupted him. And now...this.

“Eli and I are joining the others,” the leader said. “Wait for the cops and keep an eye on our guest.”

“I don’t need anyone to watch over me,” she muttered.

Payton nodded. “I will, Matt.”

The door banged shut as Eli and Matt left.

“You don’t have to babysit me. I’m fine.”

A ripple of apprehension roiled in her stomach. Maybe they weren’t concerned for her safety at all. Maybe there was something more sinister at play. They seemed in an awful hurry to find the body before the cops.

“Right. You’re fine. That’s why you’re shaking like a deer staring at the long end of a shotgun.”

He sat beside her and rubbed her shoulder. She drew a steadying breath. Be smart. Could be Payton was ordered to watch her for damage control. Make sure she didn’t catch them hiding the body or altering the scene.

“You had a traumatic experience this morning,” he said, continuing to massage her shoulders and neck. “Anyone would be shaken. Don’t act like you aren’t.”

Tallulah inched away from his touch. She was many things, but a fool she was not. For all she knew, Payton was as untrustworthy as the rest of the timber crew. Just because his kisses curled her toes the night before was no reason to let down her guard.

“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped. “I’m not the swooning Southern-belle type. I can handle emergencies with logic and calm.”

Payton’s mouth twisted and he rose from the sofa and paced. Probably stifling the urge to throttle her.

“Go on and join the others. You know you’re dying to check it out. I can take care of myself.”

Tallulah glanced around the den that seethed with masculinity—a pool table, large-screen TV, a wet bar, leather furniture and not a knickknack or potted plant in sight. If Payton went outside, she could do a little exploring. There was something very strange about this group of guys, although she couldn’t precisely say what. Their house had a different feel from other homes. A secretive vibe. But perhaps she judged unfairly, her view tainted by seeing the wolf enter. The one no one claimed to have seen—including Payton. Maybe she could convince him to leave so she could snoop around the place and call Sheriff Angier. Tell Payton she needed some alone time to recover from the ordeal of finding the body.

He ceased pacing and faced her abruptly. “Do you always have to act so damn defensive about everything?”

Her spine stiffened. “That’s not true,” she began, her voice hot and loud. She clamped her jaw shut. She’d just proved the opposite.

“It is true. You take offence at anything I say.”

Tallulah silently counted to ten. She’d get nowhere antagonizing him. And perhaps he did have a point. Payton certainly wouldn’t be the first to say that her personality had become a tad bitter over the past couple of years.

“I apologize. You’re right. Seeing Jeb’s mauled body did bother me and I took it out on you.”

Payton’s anger instantly abated. “It’s okay.”

“I think I interrupted your morning shower. Why don’t you go ahead and finish?”

He hesitated. “Are you sure? Can I get you anything first?”

“I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee,” she said sweetly. “Might calm my nerves.”

“Sure. Sugar or cream?”

“Both.”

“Done. Then I’m going back upstairs to finish dressing so I’ll be decent when the cops bombard the place.”

“Had experience with this sort of thing before?” she asked, unable to help herself. “With cops, that is.”

His eyes shuttered. “Hmm.”

Without explaining, he disappeared in the kitchen. She kept her ears tuned as he rumbled about for a cup, poured and stirred. She picked up a cell phone that was on the coffee table.

Damn. This one required a password to make a call. She reached and tried another abandoned phone on the end table. Oh, yes, this one was password-free. It would do nicely.

At the sound of footsteps, she stuffed the phone under the sofa cushion.

“One coffee coming up,” Payton announced.

He held out a steaming, earthenware mug and she clasped both hands around the smooth pottery. Despite the appalling circumstances, the warmth in her palms spread up her arms and into her heart. There were few caring gestures in her life. Not since Bo...well, no point thinking of him now. He’d left her behind and she was alone again. Most of the time, she’d learn to accept she was on her own. Until an act of kindness, however small, undid her.

Oh, hell, not tears. Quickly, Tallulah hung her head, allowing her long hair to drape her profile on either side. She sipped the coffee and discreetely swiped the wetness from her cheeks.

“Hey, are you crying?” Payton sat beside her on the sofa.

“Of course not.” She carefully set the mug on an end table and faked a little cough. “Swallowed the wrong way. Go ahead and get dressed.”

He looked doubtful, but she shooed him along with a wave of her hand. “A few minutes alone will do me good.”

“If you say so.”

With one last pat on her shoulder, Payton rose and tromped up the stairs. Tallulah unearthed the phone from beneath the cushion and punched in a familiar number.

“Yes, hello,” she said, careful to keep her voice low. “I need to speak with Sheriff Angier. It’s an emergency.”

* * *

It was happening all over again, Payton thought.

He tried to make excuses as he shrugged into a T-shirt and pulled on socks and sneakers—a dead body didn’t necessarily mean murder. There could be a natural cause. The bayou was teeming with rattlesnakes and water moccasins. Maybe even alligators? He wasn’t sure if they were far south enough for gators; he’d have to ask Tallulah about that.

Yes, but the body had been found on their property. It was Montana all over again. Questions whirled through his brain in a storm of dread. He’d been so concerned over Tallulah; he hadn’t asked for details. Now he desperately needed to know everything, needed to come up with a rational explanation for what had happened. An explanation that had nothing to do with one of their own.

Satisfied he was presentable, Payton returned downstairs.

Tallulah was a blur of motion. A hand swept down her side as she stood and faced him. Had she dropped something? She ran a hand through her hair and gave an uncertain smile.

“That was quick.”

He strode forward. “Did the coffee help?”

“Yes, yes. I told you, I’m fine.”

“Good. Because I have a few questions.” He sat in a chair across from the sofa and motioned her to sit back down. A cell phone lay on the cushion beside her.

“Call anybody?” he asked.

“What makes you think this is my phone?” The old Tallulah was back in control, abrasive and defensive.

“Is it?”

“No. So what did you want to ask me?”

“Tell me about the body you found. Did you know the person?”

She swallowed hard. “It was Jeb Johnson, your landlord.”

“I never met him. Just one of his sons, forgot the name.”

“That would be Tommy or Ainsley. Jeb didn’t get out much in the last year or so, wasn’t feeling well,” she said. She picked up the coffee mug and took a long draw.

Hope loosened the tightness in his chest. The man was old. Perhaps he’d gone for an early morning walk and his heart gave up the ghost.

“A possible heart attack?”

“I wish. No.” She pursed her lips a moment. “His neck was cut open. Or—” her eyes narrowed a fraction “—he was bitten.”

“Bitten?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice mild, his expression neutral. Holy hell. The nightmare continued. “Bitten by what? A wild dog? A bear?”

She set the mug on the table. “No bears in these parts. Not for decades. No wild dogs, either, that I’m aware of.”

Easy, Payton. Easy. Keep your eyes and face like Switzerland.

Silence weighted the space between them.

“I can’t help thinking of that creature I saw near here,” Tallulah said at last. “The wolf that entered the house.”

Payton smiled sardonically. “If a wolf had walked in here, I promise one of us would have noticed.”

“I know what I saw.”

“What you think you saw,” he amended.

“Something strange is going on around here. Is there something you want to tell me? While we’re alone?”

A pang of longing shot through his heart. How nice it would be to confide in someone instead of keeping the secret locked inside. Never. Don’t even consider such a dangerous notion. His loyalty was to the pack. To his own kind. And they were in deep, deep trouble.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he replied dully. “We’re here to do a job and then we’ll be on our way in a few months.”

“You’re lying,” she said flatly.

Payton pursed his lips, biting back a sharp retort. Bad enough he was forced to live a lie, but he wasn’t a hypocrite. He did what he must in order to protect himself and the pack. If the wrong people knew they were shapeshifters, it would result in a witch hunt—the likes of which would make Salem appear tame by comparison.

He shifted the inquisition. “Who did you call?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“When I was upstairs, you called someone. Who? And why?”

Her face was as calm and stoic as a piece of polished amber. “Nobody.”

“Now who’s lying?”

Siren wails intruded upon their impasse, signaling the rapid-approaching arm of the law. Footsteps lumbered up the back porch steps as several members of the pack returned.

It was going to be a bitch of a day.


Chapter 5 (#uc0b8ef2a-0bb7-5199-8460-a997e0596782)

“I understand you’re the one who found the body.”

Sheriff Angier casually maneuvered her to the side.

A young Bayou La Siryna cop frowned, clearly irritated. “I can take her statement.”

“Relax, rookie. We all want the same thing—to discover what happened to Mr. Johnson. Now go talk to some of the others.”

The rookie flushed, but left them alone, grumbling under his breath.

“Tell me why you wanted to speak to me personally,” the sheriff said. “Do you have some suspicions you’re afraid to voice in front of anyone else?”

“I trust you. Your dad and my dad went a long way back.”

“I remember,” Angier said.

“So hear me out. What I’m about to tell you is a little weird.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “I’m plenty used to weird in Bayou La Siryna.”

Tallulah knew that. Annie claimed Angier’s wife was “different” and perhaps otherworldly. Her sister-in-law, Annie, was the granddaughter of the local hoodoo queen, Tia Henrietta, and had the ability to hear auras. Tallulah didn’t believe it at first, but she’d learned that Annie did indeed have powers. She’d seen her do it many times, especially during a crisis.

“Around Shelly Angier I hear the ocean,” Annie had said. “It’s especially clear when I’m near her cousins, Jet and Lily. With Jet, the ocean sounds powerful and releases a ferocious beauty of pounding waves. And with Lily...” Annie’s eyes grew dreamy and she sighed. “I can’t do justice to describing her aura. It’s a beautiful voice that sounds like an angel, except the notes are carried out over the sea in waves—rippling and melodic.”

She’d laughed. “Are you saying Angier is married to a mermaid?”

Annie hadn’t laughed. “Anything’s possible in Bayou La Siryna.”

Tallulah tried to gauge the enigmatic sheriff’s reaction to her probe. Her image reflected off his polarized sunglasses. Did law enforcement wear those to deliberately keep people from guessing their thoughts? ’Cause she could read no emotion on Angier’s stern, rugged face.

What the hell. She had to tell him what she’d seen. If he laughed and brushed her off, so be it.

“Go on,” he urged.

“Jeb’s neck... I’ve never seen anything like it. Could it have been a wild animal? A stray dog?”

“The forensic expert will make that call.”

Hah. He was stonewalling her. “I asked what you think?”

“I think you know something,” he countered. “What is it?”

“I’ve seen a wolf roaming this area.”

A heartbeat passed.

“Never seen one in this bayou. That’s all you got?” Angier asked.

“The wolf is menacing. Its behavior is odd. One moment feral and dangerous, and the next it’s—it’s—”

“Spit it out.”

She glared at the sheriff and then pointed to the farmhouse. “I saw it walk up those back porch stairs and then enter this house. And no one said a word after it happened.”

“Anything else?”

“Awful strange that something like this happens just as the new renters come to town.” There, she’d said it.

“Could be you have a bias against them. Considering how much you love this land and have protested their timber clearing.”

“That’s not true,” she said, immediately on the defensive. She’d never insinuate a person had committed a crime based on a personal grudge. “It’s not fair. I—”

“Hey, come look at this!” one of the cops cried from behind the tree line. A buzz of excitement broke out and everyone swarmed under a magnolia, trying to get a glimpse.

She and Sheriff Angier hurried over. The aggressive rookie policeman held up an object and Tallulah stopped dead at the sight.

Feathers and beads dangled in the breeze from a wooden, hooped dream catcher.

Her dream catcher.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. She was paralyzed with shock. How had it gotten there? Her memorial to Bo was too far away for the wind to have carried it all the way to Jeb’s. Tallulah wet her dry lips and scanned the crowd. Was she being set up? Maybe by one of the new renters in Bayou La Siryna?

“What the hell is that thing?” one of the onlookers asked.

Sheriff Angier shot her a questioning look, one brow raised. He recognized a Native American relic when he saw one. The Choctaw presence was strong in the area.

“Good thing I’m not one to jump to conclusions,” he commented.

“But—but—”

“Maybe you should explain to the sheriff why you continue to trespass on our property.”

Tallulah whirled around, coming face-to-face with Payton. A very angry Payton.

“You always appear to be snooping around at the most interesting times,” Payton continued. His gray eyes lacked any warmth. All trace of the nice guy had vanished. Now she’d done it. After today, he’d want nothing to do with her. Fine. She was used to being alone.

Matt marched over to them, clearly infuriated. “And you were the one who found the body.”

His loud, firm voice carried and everyone momentarily paused to look their way. Even the tech people loading Jeb’s body into a vehicle and the other cops, who were taking pictures of the scene and scouting the immediate area.

Tallulah’s face flamed. This is what you got for trying to be a good citizen. She focused her gaze on Angier. “If you want to ask me more questions, you know where I live.”

The sheriff nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”

I’ll bet. But she had no answers. No explanation as to why her dream catcher was located near Jeb’s body. She straightened her shoulders and headed to the street, conscious of Payton’s eyes on her. Walking on the road added significant distance to the journey home, but she didn’t care to be alone in the woods after the sight of Jeb’s bloody neck with its jagged skin.

Her legs grew heavy; the whole event had wearied her more than she’d realized. The emotional turmoil had sapped her energy. It would be a long, lonely walk back to her cabin.

And this time, there would be no offer of a ride home from Payton.

* * *

The pack crowded into the living room, awaiting word from their alpha, Matt. The mood was as solemn as the night they’d decided to leave Montana after confronting the unfair accusations of other wolf packs.

Only now it appeared the accusations weren’t false.

Someone among them was infected with the lycanthropic fever. A cold-hearted killer who would stop at nothing to fulfill his cravings for human blood. The fever had been widespread out west. No one knew how it started, only that it spread from one wolf to another through biting. Those infected by the fever were ordered to live at a secured, medical compound until an antidote was developed.

Absolute compliance to this law was strictly enforced. Werewolves had evolved over the years, learned to shape-shift and satisfy their animal nature without posing harm to humans and without exposing their secret nature. But the lycanthropic fever threatened their gains. A series of unexplained human murder victims, all bitten in the neck, all drained of blood, had aroused the attention of the law enforcement and the fear of the community. For now, the murders were theorized as being committed by an unknown serial killer. But if this spread across the country, if word leaked on the hidden world of shapeshifters, their existence would be threatened. It would be a return to the days of wolf and witch trials. A bloodbath that might end their kind forever.

“We’re in a tough position,” Matt began, standing in front of the fireplace. “By tomorrow morning, the law enforcement people in this town will most likely see the connection of the victim’s body here as identical to other victims out west.” He took a deep breath and intently regarded each of them. “One of you is infected. I can’t deny it any longer.”

But who?

Payton’s gaze swept the room, studying the guarded faces of his friends, his family. Each one appeared shell-shocked. Eyes reflected varying degrees of dread and many had slumped shoulders, an aura of defeat. Jillian appeared to take the news the worst. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hands trembled in her lap.

“But maybe it wasn’t one of us.” Adam, their youngest member, spoke up. “There was that Native American thing found by the body. Maybe whoever left it was the real killer.”

Russell caught his eye. Payton shook his head a fraction, signaling not to speak. His friend frowned, but kept quiet.

As quick as Tallulah had been to judge all of them, he wasn’t ready to attach blame. The dream catcher at the scene, combined with the fact that she was the person to discover the body, looked bad. He didn’t know Tallulah well enough to determine her character, but the ripped flesh on Jeb’s neck and the loss of blood was an ironclad indictment against one of them.

“It was one of us,” Matt insisted. “But that Tallulah Silver concerns me. She suspects something and she snoops about the place too much.”

Matt stared straight at him. “Didn’t you have dinner with the other evening? How well do you know her?”

Jillian stopped sniffling and cast alert eyes on him.

“Evidently, not well as well as I thought.”

“Then get closer to her,” Matt commanded. “Find out what she knows and then throw her off our trail.”

“She’s freely told the sheriff what she’s seen. As far as throwing us off our trail, I don’t see how I’m supposed to do that.”




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