Hunting Ground

It was certainly Brother Wolf, not Charles, who turned to look at her, his eyes glazed with rage. She tried to open the co

She went to him and tapped him on the nose, ignoring the rage that, finally, made him growl full-throated and angry.

“Open up.” She hadn’t been afraid, but his growls and the smell of blood and other things made her remember too much. Remember when the blood, the desperation, had been hers.

Her hands were shaking, and she was breathing through her nose like a racehorse at the end of the Kentucky Derby. But she stuck her thumb in his mouth and pulled, his canine sliding along the edge of her hand and slicing it open.

As soon as he tasted her blood, he dropped his hold, letting the other wolf’s head flop on the ground, and backed violently away from her. She didn’t know if Chastel was alive or dead-couldn’t bring herself to care, though she knew it would be important in just a minute. Right now, all of her attention was on Brother Wolf.

The red wolf who was both Brother Wolf and Charles stared into her eyes, and she saw him grasp just one thing out of all the things he could have seen in her. She was scared to death-of the fae, of the blood and anger, of her own audacity-but all he let himself see was the fear, not the reasons for it.

He held her eyes for a moment more, then trotted out the door-which opened for him, though no one held it, and slammed as soon as he was through.

“After him,” said Dana in a voice like cut glass. “He drew first blood.”

Her voice provided impetus to men who had been immobile observers, and they started toward the door.

“Stop,” A

And the wolves, on two feet and four, who’d begun to move for Dana, stopped where they were and turned to look at her.

The fae turned to her, too, and her voice had power as well. “He drew first blood. I am fae, I ca

She left her eyes on A

Angus took a step toward the door.

“No,” said A

Angus turned back to her, a slow smile on his face. “Yes, my lady,” he told A

Dana’s face froze, and for one instant A

“Chastel threatened A

He was right. A

“Not to the death,” said Dana.

“He’s not dead,” parried Ric, who knelt beside the fallen Frenchman with Michel, the French Alpha. Someone, maybe Michel, murmured, “More’s the pity.”

Angus strode to the wolf on the ground and took a good look. “Not even badly wounded,” he said, sounding a little disappointed himself. “Charles just cut off his air, he’ll be fine in a few minutes except for a very sore nose.”

“Good,” said A

HE hadn’t gone to the gate, which was what she’d expected him to do.

A

He hadn’t been ru

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 A

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 A