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  His gaze traveled to Penny and Jake. “You too?”

  Both shook their heads and returned their efforts at the fireplace.

  Clare grabbed a flashlight from the mantle. “Follow me.” She led him to the servant’s stairs behind the kitchen. By snooping around, she concluded the manor used to house a wealthy family a century ago, but it had sat abandoned long enough for their scents to fade. The building held very few smells really. Either it had been locked tight or Pallas had hired a very good cleaning crew before her arrival.

  Ian followed on her heels. “You left home for this dump?”

  “Where others see punishment, I see opportunity.” She stopped on the top step so they could see eye to eye. “Most of the packs don’t trust the relationship between the Nosferatu vampire clan and the Vanguard pack. This sudden offer to train shifters is making a lot of alphas nervous.”

  He rolled his eyes and snorted.

  “More nervous.” Her father had all sorts of conspiracy theories. The Vanguards wanted more territory so they wanted to lessen hunter numbers on pack land so they lured them away with free training. She’d also heard him whispering to her mother on how the Vanguards wanted a bigger pack so they would steal their best hunters. Or her favorite, the vampire would use his mental powers to brainwash them into traitors. She sighed. “We’re the test group.” The expendable group. Whatever the outcome, they would set the bar for this werewolf boot camp.

  “So am I supposed to be honored to be included?” He leaned against the stained plastered wall. Ian didn’t seem weak or omega. That meant he was most likely a troublemaker. Shifters like him never amounted to anything.

  Certain dominant wolves had something festering inside them—maybe a jealousy or apathy. Instead of growing into hunters or alphas, they faded away or were run off to become rogues or worse. She wished she had the time or energy to fix Ian, he was cute after all, but there were too many others who were weak in this camp. After three days of roughing it without electricity, she wondered how many would try leaving.

  “Others, just like you Ian, have been dropped off.” She turned her back on him and continued up to the third floor. “Just as big or bigger. Pallas refused them. Why did he let you stay?” She didn’t expect and answer and she didn’t get one.

  Ian remained silent as a shadow as she led him through the crowded sleeping corridor. “Third floor is for males.” She pointed to a room with two bunk beds. “This room has an unassigned cot.”

  He crowded her against the doorframe and scanned the space. “It’s cramped. Do I have any other options?”

  “You can challenge someone for their spot, but don’t waste your energy. All the spots suck. There are four shifters to every room now that you’re here. That’s the last empty spot.”

  “You’re sharing?” He sounded incredulous.

  “Yes, with Penny.”

  He appeared puzzled.

  “The female in the kitchen by the fireplace.”

  “The little mouse.”

  She frowned. “Yes.”

  “That’s it? One other person.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “There are fewer females than males and the rooms on the second floor are smaller.” He was acting like she’d made these rules. The manor was already set this way when she arrived.

  He pushed past her into the room and claimed a bottom bunk that she suspected already belonged to Jake. Ian wasn’t carrying a bag or suitcase.

  “Where’s your stuff?” She wasn’t playing bellhop.

  “What stuff? My alpha didn’t exactly give me time to pack. He just tossed me in the trunk.” He folded his hands behind his head. “What’s with the all the flashlights?”

  The lambent glow reflected off his amber gaze. Warm and inviting. She cleared her throat. “The manor doesn’t have electricity except for the fridge and freezer.”

  His gaze flicked to the modern light fixture on the ceiling then back to her.

  She flipped the light switch on by the door and nothing happened. “Pallas refuses to turn on the breaker.”

  His eyes went wide. The first sign of a real person she’d seen in him. “Plumbing?”

  She nodded. “He hates the smell of shifters, but I have to warn you, there’s no hot water or heating or a working stove.”

  He tucked a long loose strand of mahogany hair behind his ear. “How do you keep warm at night?”

  Tingles ran up her spine at the clear invitation. If he turned on the smolder any higher, he’d set the bed on fire. “At night, we run.” She struggled not to laugh at his confused expression. “We sleep during the day Einstein.” She waited for her meaning to sink in, but he still didn’t seem to understand. “Vampire…”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed his throat. “I forgot. Not sure how I did.”

  “It still gets plenty warm during sunlight hours but I hear in another few weeks we’ll all be wanting to share beds.”

  Sitting up in one smooth motion, he planted his feet on the floor and caught her with his intense stare again. “Why do you stay?” He stood and paced toward her.

  She didn’t realize she was retreating until her back hit the wall. What the hell? Her nostrils flared and took in his heady scent. She didn’t surrender to anyone, especially when they smelled of temptation and sex appeal.

  “We can’t be far from a town. What sort of security does this place have?”

  She set her hands against his chest and pushed—and pushed. Solid muscles lay under her hands. She craved to run them down over his abs and back up again. Maybe under his shirt on the return trip.

  Fuck, what was wrong with her?

  He glanced at where they touched and took a voluntary step away.

  Biting her lip, she held back a disappointed groan.

  Single male shifters tended to have a hard time keeping their cocks in their pants. Females tended to have it together. So why was she still standing in his room? Alone. Next to his bed. His flirting didn’t surprise her, but her response did. Maybe in another place, another time, she would have lifted on her tiptoes to nibble on his full bottom lip.

  “Nothing stops you from leaving, Ian.” She pointed to the stairs. “There’s the way out.” She let her gaze travel over him in the same manner he had inspected her when they first met. “Dinner is in an hour. It will probably be cold so no need to hurry.” She marched away.

  “Clare, the vampire told me I can’t leave.”

  She shrugged. “You don’t seem the type to care about rules.” Penny and Jake required help with the fire more than Ian needed her. He’d be gone soon enough. She had to prioritize her time. The needs of the pack came before the needs of the one. For once, she was looking forward to a cold shower.

  Chapter Three

  Ian watched the sun creep over the horizon from his bottom bunk. Snoring filled his bedroom as his three roommates—Darrell, Jake, and Blain—slept. The intros had been simple and abrupt as they arrived one by one in the late vestige of night. This was everyone’s last moment of freedom before Pallas took over their lives.

  With his sensitive hearing, Ian had detected the movements of others in the manor until all seemed quiet except for someone deep in the basement. He assumed that was the bloodsucker, but he hadn’t heard anything in fifteen minutes. He hoped the vampire had bunked down, or gotten in his coffin, or whatever they did when the sun rose.

  Rolling off his thin mattress, he sat and waited to see if any of his bunkmates stirred. He didn’t need to dress. He’d slipped under the blankets completely clothed last night. Clare had said no one would stop him from leaving but what if she didn’t really know? She hadn’t smelled of lies. What if there was some sort of security she wasn’t aware of? Shifters didn’t worry him. Pallas did.

  If Ian couldn’t fight off his alpha’s surprise attack, he doubted his ability to take on a warrior vampire. What was the worst thing Pallas could do to him if he caught Ian running away? Kick him out of his boot camp of misfit wolves? He rubbed his throat. The bruises had
faded already but the memory remained fresh.

  He snuck from the room and along the hall to the back stairs. They creaked with each step, setting his teeth on edge. He wasn’t the only one in the manor with sharp hearing. Maybe the others would think he was sneaking to the kitchen for food since he skipped dinner. He had no intention of meeting any other shifters and forming any bonds. Bad enough he had encountered Clare. The scent of her lingered in his room all night, whispering sweet seductions with every breath.

  In the kitchen, a discarded plastic bag sat on the table. Ian stuffed it into his pocket. He had learned in the last year to always have something to carry his clothes. Police weren’t open-minded about nudity, shifter or not.

  Outside the manor, sunlight burned the night chill away and tall grass swayed in the breeze. Ian hesitated on the wraparound porch and glanced at the road. He could travel faster and farther in wolf form than in human, but he’d have to avoid the roads. Shifters were known to humans but he didn’t want some farmer mistaking him for a regular wolf. Getting shot hurt. He turned his attention to the surrounding woods.

  The trees grew close together with enough undergrowth to make running difficult. Undressing, Ian packed his clothes in the plastic bag then shifted shape. A familiar pain ran through his limbs as they changed shape. Claws pierced the tips of his fingers and toes as fur sprouted over his skin. He clamped his jaw and swallowed a groan.

  When he’d first became a shifter, he thought his bones breaking would hurt the worst, but thousands of hairs sprouting from his flesh at the same time was the real agony. They forgot to mention that part in the pre-shifter classes he’d been forced to take. His alpha told him this was the sacrifice shifters made for the increased strength and speed. Part of him wondered if he’d been old enough to make such a life changing decision. At twenty-one, being a werewolf sounded pretty cool. At twenty-two—standing on the edge of a strange woods, alone, abandoned by his pack—not so much.

  With his teeth, he scooped the handle of the bag containing his clothes and ran toward freedom. The long grass tickled his underbelly as he stretched to his longest stride. As he approached the forest line he slowed to a trot then leaped over the low bushes.

  Shadows covered the ground, sprinkled with stray sunlight. He gave control to his wolf, trusting his instincts in the wild. What next? Should he try to return home? The wolf part of his soul needed a pack. No matter how he acted as a man, he was no lone wolf. They both desired companionship but his alpha would drag his ass back here if he returned home. They had sponsored his being turned so they automatically accepted him into their pack. He didn’t know how to apply for a new one. He doubted there was an online form.

  He panted and licked his muzzle. A shiver ran through his hide. His wolf retreated and Ian blinked at his unfamiliar surroundings. How long had they been running? Thirst burned his throat and hunger growled in his belly. Sunlight glittered high in the tree tops like stars between the leaves. He hadn’t thought to bring provisions. He’d been raised in the city where food and water were a few bucks away.

  Something had triggered his consciousness to return. He lifted his muzzle to the air but found nothing unusual. Maybe his wolf had grown too tired? Sitting on his haunches, he scanned the area. He hoped his wolf didn’t expect him to hunt or they’d both starve. The wind changed and a new scent filled his nose with alarming strength.

  Humans.

  He jumped to his paws, trying to locate the source. What were they doing so deep in the wild? Something metallic clicked. The sound was familiar. It was the safety of gun releasing followed by the bang of the shot.

  Ian sprang to the left, taking cover behind a tree. Scorching pain seared through his back leg. A high pitched yelp escaped his throat as he hit the ground on his side, knocking the wind out of him. He reached back and licked his stinging wound.

  Shouts of victory traveled from the treetops. From his angle on the ground, Ian spotted four of them sitting on small platforms built on the tree trunks a few yards away. Hunters. Great. He could heal a leg wound, but a head shot would be fatal. He rolled onto his feet and tried to limp away. Another shot bloomed just before his front paws. He spun and snarled as they closed in.

  “A wolf!” The hunter wearing camo from head to toe kept his rifle locked on Ian. “Damn, I heard they were returning. Didn’t believe it though.”

  “Aren’t you going to finish him?” His buddy in jeans and flannel jacket remained by their tree stand.

  “Wait.” A skinny hunter with glasses, carrying a smart phone, hurried to Camo’s side. “Isn’t it illegal to shoot a wolf?”

  “Jesus, Harold. Ain’t nobody going to know but us.” Camo lifted his rifle higher as if ready to shoot again.

  “Who invited Harold anyway?” The fourth hunter gave Ian an eager grin. “Shoot it.” He lifted his rifle as well.

  “My sister made me bring him. You know—”

  Ian triggered his shift, returning to his human form. They wouldn’t shoot him if he looked human, right? There were some street gangs in NY City that hunted his kind for kicks. Things might be different outside the city though.

  “What the fuck?” Boots scuffing the ground traveled to Ian’s ears as well as more curses. “Harold, are you taking pictures?”

  “It’s an alien!” That last high pitched comment sounded like it came from the guy hovering close to the tree stand. Ian would have laughed if he didn’t hurt so much and if he didn’t have four rifles aimed at his head.

  “Shut up, Wilson.” Somebody shouted.

  Ian clenched his jaw as he sensed his leg wound knitting shut and the bullet pushing its way out of his flesh. He hated being shot. His alpha had done it to him as a lesson in shifter physiology. An instructional video could have done the job, but no, his alpha wanted to make him an example. Still in mid-shift, he managed to crab walk into some thick underbrush.

  A shot went off, exploding a small bush to his right.

  “Don’t shoot,” he shouted over the hunters’ excited noise. “I mean you no harm.” God, what made him say that? He sounded like part of an alien invasion. Next he’d be saying things like take me to your leader. “I mean, I won’t hurt you.” Much. They’d shot him after all. On all fours, he crept through the underbrush. He didn’t have much forest craft and to his ears he sounded like an elephant trying to hide, but their human hearing didn’t seem to catch his movement.

  The hunters closed in on where he’d been, and not where he was, with whispers like, “Do you see him?” and “Move closer to the right, Wilbert.”

  From his hiding point, Ian could see that the underbrush didn’t go forever. They’d find him soon. If he tried to run, they’d most likely shoot him again. Maybe not just in the leg. He closed his eyes as his vision swam. Damn it, he’d already been starved and exhausted before healing. Now his system wanted to shut down and rest from all the abuse. He needed food and sleep to recover. Not another injury.

  Rifles were good for hunting at a distance. Shooting at close range could lead to injuring one another. They all carried knives except for Harold, who was more interested in filming his buddies on his phone. Could he take them all out? They were only humans. He had just begun taking basic combat skills with his pack’s leading fighter so he had minimal experience. He knew more theory than actual practice. At this point, he didn’t have much choice. It was take or be taken.

  Naked as the day he was born, Ian left his cover. The hunters all had their backs turned to him. He stepped lightly next to the closest man, legs apart and muscles loose, like he’d been taught. Clenched fist ready, he used the momentum of twisting his hips to add force to his strike as he punched his opponent in the temple. His purpose was to knock him out fast and move to disarm the others.

  The hunter crumpled to the forest floor, his rifle clattering on the tree roots. The others spun around at the noise.

  “Don’t shoot,” cried Camo-guy. “You might hit Wilbert.”

  Ian dove behind a small stand of th
in trees with Wilbert’s rifle. He hadn’t a clue how to use it. Better to swing it like a bat than shoot himself in the foot.

  The others were already scrambling for better positions, trying to surround him.

  He hefted the rifle’s handle like a club and slammed it into the closest hunter’s head. It was the guy who’d been afraid to leave the tree stand. He sprawled onto his back, eyes rolling into his head. Ian ducked as another shot went off.

  “I said hold your fucking fire, Harold. You’re more liable to shoot me.” Camo-guy sounded too close for Ian’s comfort. “What the fuck are you?”

  “He’s a werewolf. I’ve seen them in the city. They can move fast like this guy.” Harold seemed to have the most brains of all three.

  “Harold, explain to your friend that I’m harmless.” Ian tried to spot the geekier hunter.

  “You don’t seem harmless to me. You’ve already attacked two of us.” A crunch of boots to Ian’s left declared Camo-guy’s location.

  “You shot me and are still holding guns.” Ian tossed Wilbert’s rifle to the ground. “Let’s talk about this like civilized people.”

  “Your kind are not people,” Harold whispered, sending a cold shiver over Ian’s soul. He shouldn’t have tossed the gun. Crap.

  A twig snapped closer to his left. Ian dove for Wilbert’s rifle. The crack of gunfire filled the forest air again. Ian sensed the bullet skim over his spine, leaving a trail of heat on his skin. His fingertips curled around the rifle barrel. He picked it up and tossed it at Camo, catching him under the chin. The hunter joined his buddies on the ground unconscious. Yes!

  Another shot crackled in the forest silence. Pain exploded in Ian’s gut. He doubled over with a moan. He hadn’t the air to make more noise. Glancing up, he met Harold’s stunned stare. “You killed me. What have I ever done to you?”

  The human blinked and dropped his weapon. With a tangle of quick steps, he retreated until his stumbles evolved into a full on run.