There had been something wrong in Brother Wolf's gaze. Something mad... maddened. As she contemplated the fence, she remembered a challenge he'd issued to her as they went to see Dana Shea for the first time. They'd both forgotten about it.
"What kind of a fae is Dana Shea?" she muttered to herself as she searched for a way past the fence. Dana was something strong enough to frighten a troll, certainly, strong enough to be a Gray Lord-though Anna had no real idea how strong that would have to be. Something that ate people-the hunger the fae'd shown was unmistakably predatory. Something to do with water-she lived in a houseboat and still had a water fountain and pond inside.
La Belle Dame Sans Merci. The beautiful lady without mercy, who lured men to her river or stream and drowned them. Made them believe something that wasn't.
Made them believe something that wasn't.
Charles had proven himself immune to Dana's spell of desire. Maybe he wasn't immune to all of her magic, though.
Charles had been kind of on edge tonight. But he was smart, he was quick-thinking-and he attacked after Chastel had withdrawn. That was very uncharacteristic. She'd been worried about the consequences of that-how Charles would feel about his actions. She hadn't stopped to think that was because his actions had been so far out of the ordinary for him.
Her mate knew more about Dana, he'd told her so-and presumably Bran knew even more than Charles. She'd ask him about it, tell him about what she'd seen in Dana's face-as soon as she found Charles.
She went to the nearest fence post and pulled the chain link until she'd popped all the retaining clips that attached it to the post. Then she jerked it up, feeling the bite of it in her shoulders and biceps. It wasn't something a human of her size could have done: there were a few benefits to being a werewolf. When she was done, she had a big enough hole to crawl through-she'd have to remember to tell Angus he needed to fix his fence.
She followed Charles's trail, not hurrying because he wasn't. She didn't know what she'd find at the end of the trail, but she was pretty sure it would be better if she didn't find him too soon. Or too late.
Would he expect the hunt that Dana had been so quick to send out? Was he ready to face dozens of the toughest wolves Europe had to offer? Did he expect Angus to come after him? Or Dana herself? Had he felt it when Anna had drawn upon his power to stop the fae woman? Could he feel her coming after him now? The bond between them sang with strength and tension, but that was all she could sense through it.
Except... she found that as she thought about it, she could tell where he was. He was releasing his hold on their bond, not hiding so hard. Anna stopped at that thought. Was that what he was doing? Hiding from her?
He was not a violent man by nature. She knew that, had felt his gentleness herself. He had made himself into the man his father needed, his pet killer, his sword arm. He was very, very good at his job.
But Brother Wolf craved blood and flesh. Her own wolf didn't: it was one of the differences that being Omega gave her. She remembered Charles's stopping in front of his father's house when it smelled of blood and pain. He'd asked her what she smelled, then told her that if she were not Omega, the smell would have made her hungry.
He'd been hungry, though he hadn't told her that.
In her wolf form, she could eat raw meat and like it. But when she was human, blood smelled like blood, not food.
Anna started walking again and noticed that he was headed downhill, toward the... she squinted and wasn't able to figure out if it was the Sound, or just another of the saltwater lakes that were everywhere she looked in Seattle. She hadn't thought to ask when they drove here; she'd been worried about the hunt.
There was a narrow path next to an equally narrow freshwater stream that slid through the blackberry brambles, now barren of berries and full of dead leaves and thorns. The path was mud and sucked at her shoes, half pulling them off, as it threatened to give way entirely and dump her in the creek.
Charles's paw prints stuck deep, where he'd stopped to drink. Bleeding made you thirsty, she knew. The blood trail had been less and less easy to follow. She hoped it was because he was healing. The more dominant wolves healed faster-as long as you didn't combine wounds with silver, exhaustion, or magic.
Couldn't help but worry about him anyway.
So it was with great relief she made it down to the beach, a rocky, wet, and cold stretch of land, and saw Charles shaking himself off. He'd been in the water, cleaning the blood off. "Brave of you," Anna told him. "That water is too freaking cold for words." But she'd never had cause to doubt Charles's courage.
Amber eyes watched her as she slid down the last ten feet of slope with more grace than she'd expected, only to stumble as her shoes hit the better traction the small rocks of the beach gave her.
"So," she told Brother Wolf, "I have some things to talk to you about when you're ready. But we're safe enough for now. I left Angus in charge, back at the warehouse." Had she? Maybe Angus had left himself in charge at the warehouse.
The rocks were only high and dry in a strip about six inches wide. She looked at her muddy shoes and, deciding there was nothing she could do that would make them worse, she stepped out into about six inches of icy water. The air left her in a startled hiss. "Very cold," she told him, then started off down the shoreline because her body didn't want to stand still.
Chapter TEN
CHARLES stood where he was, the icy water covering his paws and a few inches beyond. He'd been waiting for the goon squad and gotten the beauty instead, and it left him oddly defenseless.
She walked along the shoreline, her muddy shoes splashing in the water that covered the rocks. Above them, beyond them, and to both sides, docks stretched out into the black water. Four or five docks down there was a ship being loaded, and he could hear the men talking in the grunting rhythms that working men have. They were far enough away that they would not see a woman and her very large dog walking along the water's edge.
He decided she was getting too far from him, and so he followed, padding behind her to make sure she was safe. He hadn't killed the Beast who threatened her... a growl rose in his chest at the thought. He should have killed him. Should have torn his head off so he would no longer hurt the weak and helpless ones. Not hurt his Anna. No matter that she was proving to be neither weak nor helpless.
Brother Wolf scented the air, but the scent of the other wolves was distant. Ahead of him Anna had found a log that had washed ashore, now a throne for his lady. But first she had to climb all over it.
He detoured around it, making sure it would stay stable-and found it difficult to close the distance between them.