His bones cracked, his muscles shifted, and he landed on all fours. Graceful and deadly.
He ran toward the stench, knowing the enemy waited. Yet they probably hadn’t expected him to jump high, sailing right for the throat of the closest scout. While most mountain lions weighed about a hundred and fifty pounds, shifters weighed twice that. His canines aimed true, slicing through cartilage and bone like warm toffee. Blood sprayed as he flung the Kurjan’s pasty white head into the dark recesses of the forest with a low snarl.
Jordan may be the leader of the feline world—through circumstances that still kept him awake at night—but at heart, he was a soldier. Fate had always planned for him to die in battle. Alone, as he deserved.
A whistle of wind sounded, then sharp pains impacted his body from every direction. Startled, he dropped to all fours.
Arrows? The bastards were using arrows?
Rage ripped through him and he shook wildly, ripping the missiles from his flesh to go flying.
His hiss came out more of a growl as he spotted another Kurjan. Red-haired with black tips, the freak had swirling purple eyes. Medals decorated his left breast—a high-up soldier. He smiled, revealing sharp yellow canines.
Jordan snarled back. Whatever the Kurjans were doing, it was going to backfire. Letting the animal fully take over, Jordan descended into the primal being he usually kept at bay. The Kurjan pointed a green gun at him and fired.
He dodged, then sprung.
Time to kill.
Present day—one week later
Katie Smith smelled him before she saw him. His natural scent of cinnamon and oak mixed with an edge of anger, choking the oxygen from the room. She shut the door to her apartment, schooled her face, and turned toward the threat. “Hello, Jordan. Forget how to knock?”
His rangy body sprawled in the leather chair she and her roommate, Maggie, had spent three days haggling for. While she and Maggie both chased werewolves, they also worked other jobs for money. During the war, pride funds had dried up.
Jordan raised an eyebrow, arrogant and pissed. “I sent orders for you to move to Realm Headquarters after the attack on our headquarters last week.”
She inhaled deep, her gaze meeting tawny eyes. God, she’d missed him the last ten years. Even now, angry enough to smack him, she’d give almost anything to run her hands through the thick hair falling to his shoulders. Blond, brown, a hint of black, the multitude of raw colors proving beyond doubt his base nature was that of a mountain lion. Like her. “I haven’t followed your orders in a decade. Now you need to leave.”
She flung her car keys into the merino glass bowl on the table by the door. Next to the glass sat a stack of files—names and faces of known infected shifters. She should file those ... the werewolves had all been found and killed.
Jordan stood. Long, lean, and rangy. Nearly a foot taller than her own five foot six. Her living room shrank. He’d worn his customary faded jeans, dark T-shirt, and cowboy boots. The outfit was as formal as Jordan ever dressed—if anything, he might have a nicer pair of boots for a special occasion. “Who exactly do you think you and the boys answer to, Kate?”
The urge to step back pissed her off. He was going to pull rank on her. On all of them. “Listen, I know you’re the leader of the feline clans—”
“Disobeying me was never an option for you.”
She swallowed hard and put her hands on her hips. Seeing him in her apartment wasn’t coming close to the fantasies she’d had of the moment. The man would never view her as an adult. As a woman. She shoved the pain down. “Wrong. I understand you’re older than dirt, Jordan, but I’m modern and choose to live my own life.”
Like the lion hidden just under his human surface, he stalked past the leather sofa, his eyes darkening to topaz, steady on his prey. “Ah, sweetheart. This is an incredibly bad time to mess with me.”
Her breath caught hard in her chest while desire slammed into her abdomen. Something feral lit his eyes ... something new. Deadly and deep. The wildness made something kick to life inside her. “What the fuck’s going on?”
He stopped moving a foot away. “I believe I taught you not to swear at me. True?”
She cleared her throat. “I’m not six years old anymore.”
His lips tipped in almost a smile. “I know. And I guarantee when I spank you now, the end result will be much different than you throwing a stuffed pig at me and pouting for a week.”
She forgot how to breathe. What was he saying? No. Just words—he was just using words. Was he teasing her? Flirting? She struggled to focus. “Jordan, the moon will be full in less than a week, and I have work to do.”
He shook his head. “I’ve given you a decade to work this out of your system. You’re done.”
Out of her system? True surprise mingled with a rapidly growing anger inside her. “This, as you so moronically put it, is not exactly a choice in vocation. I was infected with a virus that makes it possible for me to track werewolves.”
The air changed. His eyes darkened to burnt gold and a tension swirled toward her. “No. You were infected with a virus that makes it impossible, for now, for you to shift from human to cougar.” Danger and fury rode each word. He reached out to manacle one burning hand around her bicep. “Then ... not trusting the scientists enough to cure you, you purposefully infected yourself with the catalyst to speed the virus up.”
Yeah, she had. The catalyst was supposed to increase the potency of the virus so the illness ran its course sooner ... either killing the subject or dying out. Probably. She’d expected the virus to allow her to shift again, and had gone against all protocol and injected the weapon into her bloodstream.
Apparently the shifter remained pissed about her attempt, too. “I thought my body would fight the virus so I could shift again,” she whispered. That’s what had happened to her roommate, Maggie ... who now shifted into a wolf once a month during the full moon. Katie would’ve done anything to keep the possibility of being with Jordan open—to recapture her ability to shift.
“Yet that didn’t happen, did it?”
“No.” Instead, she’d been gifted with the ability to feel the monsters roaming around them ... to get into their heads and find the beasts. Those who had once been shifters and now were werewolves. Damn the Kurjans for creating the biological weapon. Of course, the bug only affected shifters, with their twenty-eight chromosomal pairs, and vampire mates, who had twenty-seven pairs. No one knew about witches. They protected their own, and no witch had been infected. Yet. Katie sighed. “I’m good at this, Jordan.”
His lip twisted. “Which is why you’re going under the king’s protection. To safety.”
More danger was coming? Fear slammed into her abdomen. Had he found out about her special project? The one monster she couldn’t quite catch? “We’ve pretty much eradicated werewolves in the south. What new danger?”
Regret twisted his lips. “I’m sorry, Katie—the three wolves on the Bane’s Council have decided to consolidate—they want to return to taking care of all werewolf threats without the outlying squads.”
“They can’t do that.”
“The Council has dealt with all werewolf threats for eons by itself, and it can do as it chooses. All outlying squads are being decommissioned by the end of next month.”
Something flickered in Jordan’s eyes. Was he lying?
“There are still too many threats.” Katie took a deep breath. “The Bane’s Council of three wolves can’t cover the entire world anymore. Also, while I can’t shift, I can still sense the werewolves.” So far a unique gift ... just for her.