Lycan Unleashed

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Matthias edged between the two, not taking his eyes off the vamp. “Go talk to your sister. I’m sure she’ll explain everything. You might want to tell her you nearly started a war with the wolves,” he added. “Somehow I don’t think she’d appreciate your meddling.” He lifted his chin. “And the agreement stands until Vivianne says otherwise—in person.”

Lucien Marchetta glared first at him, then at Zane. “This isn’t over.” He beckoned his vampires. Two of them had to be helped, and Lucien tucked the arm of one of his injured comrades around his neck. “Now that I’m back in town, things are going to change,” he said, his voice low and menacing. Then as a group they jumped, landing lightly on the ridge above them, and then disappeared into the night.

Matthias turned to his guardians, surveying them. Apart from some scratches and bruises, they looked more pissed than hurt.

“Let’s go find the tracker.” He stormed past them to scan the forest. She was out there somewhere, the traitorous little tracker. He ignored the voice inside his head that reminded him she was doing what any other lycan would do to protect her pack, using every weapon at her disposal. Even though he’d suspected she was somehow trying to trick them, she’d lied to him, which made him angry—but he wasn’t sure if he was angry at her for lying to him, or at himself for not detecting it. She’d played him smart, and he could appreciate that, even respect it—but she’d risked his men, the lycans he was responsible for, and that made him angry. Okay, fine, he was maybe a little pissed she didn’t trust him, although God only knew why he thought she would...and therein lay that tiny little sting. She didn’t trust him, and he wanted her to. So yes, he was hurt, but anger was always a better way to get over it.

But damn it, if things had escalated with Lucien Marchetta, then he’d be facing a war with the vamps as well as Woodland. They jogged back the way they’d come, right up to that fallen tree she’d parked her butt on as she watched them walk into a trap. He’d had no idea there was a curve in the border here, or that they’d be venturing into Nightwing territory. He had to give credit where it was due, though; she was clever.

Zane came up beside him. “She did it on purpose.”

“Of course she did it on purpose. She doesn’t want us anywhere near her pack.” Damn it, the forest was dark, and as they all spread out and peered at the ground, looking for signs of their trail, he realized they were trying to find someone who was very adept at covering her tracks.

“I can’t find any sign of her or the boy,” Zane said, jogging up to him.

Matthias stood there for a moment, thinking. “We have no idea where the den is,” he murmured, “so no clue as to which direction they might be headed in.”

He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the immediate area. With the sense of sight removed, his other senses deepened. He could hear the rustle of the leaves in the tree, the slight ruffle of wings in the branches above. A cool breeze caressed his shoulders, and something small and four-footed scampered away from his group.

There. Honeysuckle and vanilla. He lifted his nose, sniffing at the air. Yep. It was faint, and it was laced with pine, as though she’d tried to mask her scent, but he would sniff her out if she dosed herself in pepper.

“There,” he said, opening his eyes and pointing forward and slightly to the right.

Zane frowned. “How can you tell?”

“Can’t you smell her?” Even now, her fragrance curled inside him, arousing him, and stirring his beast.

Zane sniffed the air, then shook his head. “Nope. All I’ve got is pine.”

Matthias smiled grimly. “Then follow me.” He turned to the group. “The rest of you, set up camp near that dip in the ridge.”

He and Zane loped off into the forest. They’d gone maybe two hundred yards when Zane tripped over something on the ground. He swore and picked it up, leaning back so the muted moonlight could illuminate the object.

A boot. Her boot.

Three steps later, Matthias found its mate, and narrowing his eyes, he could see the dark shadow of a pair of jeans dumped at the base of a tree.

He toed off his shoes, his hands lowering his fly. “She’s shifted.” He pulled his pants off and handed them to his friend. “Follow the trail. They’re going to need their clothes.” Matthias turned and started to jog into the darkness, shifting into wolf form as he ran.