Dage’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Interesting. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
“I don’t mean to interfere.” Terrent shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to get involved.
“Actually, I appreciate the insight.” The king leaned back in his chair. “Are you any closer to figuring out who’s messing with the shifter inoculations?”
“No, but I will be.” The idea of any wolf messing with the inoculations that kept their people safe fired rage in Terrent’s blood. Well, at least the situation should be firing him into a pissed-off state. He sighed. “I can’t figure it out. The saboteur always strikes here at wolf headquarters before the drugs are sent around the world, and so far, we’ve discovered the faulty vials in time to fix the problem.”
“So no shifter has been given the damaged inoculations?”
Dage asked.
“No.” Terrent leaned toward the camera and rested his elbows on his knees. His people had been safe from Virus ever since the vampires had created the inoculation. “Nobody has been harmed by the damaged drugs. It’s as if this is the worst terrorist we’ve ever met, or—”
“Someone wants you distracted?” Dage rubbed his chin.
“That’s disconcerting.”
“I know. If successful, this plan could be quite the terrorist move, considering shifters need three inoculations spaced three years apart to be permanently immune to the virus. We only have two series completed for most people.” Yet, Terrent couldn’t quite get excited about the matter. Nobody had been harmed. “If this is some sort of trap, I haven’t figured out for whom or why.”
“Need backup?” Dage asked.
“No.” Terrent worked alone. Even as part of the Bane’s Council, he hunted alone. “I’ve got this.”
Dage nodded. “Are you ready for, well, Maggie?”
Talk about a loaded question. “I take it you knew I knew her?”
“Of course.” The king shrugged. “There isn’t much I don’t know.”
Terrent sighed. Now he owed his old friend for keeping the secret. “The lass still doesn’t remember me.” The words cut through him with a familiar pain, and he let the damn brogue slip. It’d been years since he’d trained to speak without it. “A decade to heal, and she’s still a blank slate.”
“She may never remember.” Dage leaned forward. “She loved you once. Maybe she’ll be foolish enough to do so again.” His lips tipped in almost a smile.
What if she didn’t? What if she’d changed enough they’d lost their chance? “I’m sure my charm will work again.” Terrent forced a grin.
Dage tapped a communicator in his ear and listened for a moment. “I have to go. Call me if you need me.”
The screen went dark. For real this time.
Terrent took a deep breath. He needed to visit Realm headquarters more often. The worry and frustration seemed to be getting to the king, and nothing ever got to the king. A creak outside caught Terrent’s attention. Interesting. Little Maggie had found his favorite spot.
Smiling, he loped through his two-story cabin to the back porch. The woman sat on his porch swing, bare foot pushing off the wooden planks to stay in motion. She stared at the rippling river and overgrown grass, lifting her gaze to the sprawling forest on the other side. Curly brown hair cascaded to the middle of her back, wild and free like the woman.
Pale skin covered delicate features, and her pretty brown eyes had the power to stop him cold. Although she’d trained with vampires for a decade, she was finely toned, but not muscled. The wolf had always been petite and rather delicate.
Not that she had ever admitted that fact.
The sight of her in his domain hit him square in the chest.
He’d fallen for the clever wolf the first time she’d outmaneuvered him during the hunt. Then the months they’d spent together had captured him for all time. The smart-ass owned him . . . body and soul.
And he was just fine with that.
As a wolf, as a hunter, he knew how to stalk. How to take his time and win. Ten years was a long enough time to plan and allow her to breathe. It was now over.
Slowly, so as not to spook her, he strode forward and dropped onto the swing. His hips easily fit, but his shoulders nearly knocked her off. So he stretched an arm along the back, bringing her close.
Close enough to smell vanilla and woman. Her scent made his mouth water. His cock hardened.
The night pinpointed in focus until he had identified every sound, every scent, every possible threat out there. Clearly and unequivocally. A male wolf ’s instincts when his female was near.
She kept her gaze on the moonlit forest. “I like your cabin.”
“Thank you.” He tried to keep his chest from puffing out.
Making her happy warmed him.
Her bare feet stretched against the wood. “I’m surprised you have a permanent home. I mean, with you being the head of the Bane’s Council.”
He took over the swinging, eyes glued to the hot red pol-ish on her toes. Sexy. Definitely sexy. “I’ve headed the Council for three centuries, always moving, always hunting.
When you live on the move, you need someplace to call home every once in a while.” Wolf-shifters lived in packs, and the Raze pack led them all. He liked the Raze pack, and he had several friends in the area. More important, Washington State was a safe place to put his mate while he hunted.
She turned to look at him, her eyes deep pools of chocolate. “You don’t have any family?”
“Nope.” Except her.
She nodded. “Me, either.”
He planned to change that.
The moon rose higher in the sky. “Would you like to run, little wolf ?” he asked.
Yearning filled Maggie along with trepidation. Yes, she wanted to run. The moon was high and the forest inviting.
But she’d never run with another wolf. At least, she didn’t remember running with wolves. What if she was slow? Or clumsy? Or what if she’d forgotten something every wolf knew?
For so long she’d been only able to shift under the full moon because the Kurjans had infected her with the damn virus. Even after a cure for shifters had been found, she hadn’t bounced back as quickly as other shifters. But now, finally, she could shift on command. Unfortunately, she sometimes had problems keeping the shape. “I, ah, I’m not sure.” There.
She’d said it.
He stretched to his feet, uncoiling all that strength in a lazy move. His shirt landed on the swing, and his jeans hit the porch.
Her mouth dropped open. Nude, lit by the moon, Terrent Vilks was all hard, all muscle, all male.
He grinned. “Take your time and think about it. I’ll go scout the other side of the river.” Turning, he leaped across the small yard, shifting into a massive brown wolf before touching the ground and hurtling across the water.
She couldn’t jump that far. Standing, she squinted into the night. A large, flat rock sat in the middle of the river at the perfect distance for her. Terrent was sure a planner. Indecision shuffled her feet.
Then her shoulders went back, and her spine stiffened.
She could do this.
She kicked off her jeans and tossed off her shirt.
Energy spiraled through her. Her hands elongated, and then her arms stretched wide. Fire rippled down her spine.
She dropped to all fours. Her jaw cracked, bones re-formed, and fur sprang up on her body. Freedom soared inside her veins. A hundred sounds hit her just before a thousand smells filled her nose.
One smell jerked her head up.
Male. The scent of night and musk. Terrent.
She padded along the grass until reaching the river. Bunching her back legs, she jumped for the rock, touched down, and soared to the other side.
She skidded in the reeds, sniffing to find him. His scent was everywhere, but she couldn’t hear him. Her nose down, she followed his trail, going in circles.