Forsaken Chronicles

Chapter 4

You let her pet you.

I did. His wolf's smug reply.

Alpha wolves aren't supposed to be petted. Especially not the leader of a pack.

This is what I think of rules. His beast's visual idea of what he thought involved a lot of hip thrusting.

It seemed his wolf was feeling cocky since he was currently in the driver's seat, which meant that Logan got to sit back and reflect on what the f**k had just happened. Starting with his pathetic need to follow the girl.

Transforming into his four-legged self, he ghosted after the girl - more like a woman, he realized. The fragile nature of her beauty just made her seem younger. He was calling himself all kinds of stalker when those asshats had stepped from the shadows to accost her.

Should have eaten them.

His wolf still wasn't happy at his restraint. Usually, that kind of behavior would have resulted in a torn throat or two, definitely some blood, and a whole lot of warning to anyone else who thought it was okay to attack women in his part of town.

Logan had restrained himself more because he instinctively knew violence would frighten his skittish puzzle. Although why he should care about her feelings, he couldn't answer. Which meant the thugs got away. For now.

But they'll pay later.

That kind of douchery did not belong in his town. He would return to hunt them down and ensure that they didn't hurt anyone else. It was his job. The punks, obviously new to this part of the city, needed to be reminded who ruled the night here. They might not believe in the monster under the bed yet, but they would soon learn to fear. Mortals sat at the bottom of the food chain, and they'd do well to remember that fact.

As Logan kept pace with his mystery lady, he tried to figure out why she'd proven less afraid of him - a big, bad wolf - than those two thugs. Hadn't she ever read Little Red Riding Hood?

Apparently not, because she'd petted him like an overgrown dog, and the worst part - the part he would never admit to his pack - he'd liked it. When she smiled at him, her whole face lighting up, he might have promised her anything had he worn his man shape in that moment. As it was, his bestial side had appointed itself her protector.

Who will protect me from her? Whatever magic this female hid, it had to be potent to affect a rough-around-the-edges male such as him.

You should run, little girl, because this wolf wants to eat you.

But he wouldn't because eating people - even strangely fascinating ones - was wrong. Just like peeing on the neighbor's car was wrong. As was howling at chickens in order to make them lay some fresh eggs.

Of course, Mother only chastised Logan after they'd collected the warm eggs. And she never wasted them. He'd enjoyed his ill-howled gains with thick-cut toast, sausage, bacon, grits, and freshly squeezed orange juice.

Having managed to exchange one hunger for another - his momma's home-cooked meals - he managed to concentrate better on his surroundings. The woman walked by his side, her fingers lightly resting atop his fur even though he didn't need her to guide him.

Now that he'd homed in on it, her scent stuck out from the rest, and it was easy to trace her path home. A long walk past many blocks. Past alleys with watching eyes - and hungry mouths. Past rooftops whereupon perched the more aerially inclined predators. Past the grates alongside the sidewalks where things slithered.

A good thing he'd come across her. Her very innocent nature acted as a lodestone for bad things.

She needs a keeper.

Someone to keep her safe from harm. That person won't be me. Logan's only interest in her centered around finding out who and what she was. If she proved a threat, he'd eliminate her in a heartbeat.

His wolf didn't like that one bit. His canine lip peeled back, and a growl rumbled forth, causing the slight steps beside them to stumble.

Stop that. You're scaring her, Logan growled back.

Now, who's protecting her?

Logan had fallen into a trap. If he could have, he would have scowled.

Arriving at a tenement building that, judging by its dilapidation, had never seen better days, she slowed down.

Keep going. You don't want to stray here.

Except she turned toward the steps going in. Surely, she didn't live here?

Logan's nose wrinkled, his keen sense of smell overcome by the fetid stench that hung like a miasma around the building. The scent of human urine reigned supreme but vied with that of garbage left exposed long enough to draw maggots.

This is where she lives? He couldn't imagine this delicate creature living in this vilest of habitats. Even the rats steered clear of this place. Had Logan worn his human form, he would have shaken her and asked what she was thinking. Surely, she could find somewhere better to live. Even the homeless in their boxes enjoyed a cleaner environment.

He felt her fingers tangle in his fur, and to his even greater surprise, she threw her arms around him and hugged his muscled, furry body. Logan's gaze darted around, and he was ready to snarl at anyone who might be looking and laughing. To his relief, they appeared alone.

"I wish I had something to give you."

How about answers?

"I don't even have a bone."

Now that was just insulting.

"Thank you," she whispered by his ear, her fresh scent a sweet ambrosia that momentarily overpowered the funk. Then she left, her slight frame darting inside and up the dark stairs, skittish as a rabbit.

Ah, hell. Despite all the reasons to ignore the woman, he dashed for the door before it closed. Holding his breath, he quietly followed her in and up. He hung back when she reached the third floor, emerging only when he heard the metallic sound of a key scraping in the lock as she let herself in then the click and rattle as she bolted and chained the door shut.

No screams. No thuds from inside. He paused a moment longer to listen before he padded down the hall, looking for anything that seemed out of place. Say, like another reanimated corpse.

The only things he discovered were the usual scents that came with human misery - the lingering smell of things cooked in too many spices, the pall of nicotine smoke that hung in the air, and the skunkier aroma of weed that clung to the very fibers of the wall.

But those were everyday scents. None justified staying.

Time to leave. He didn't want to. He knew he had to.

Logan couldn't spend the night here. A pack leader had responsibilities, and those didn't include minding a strange slip of a girl.

She'll be fine as long as she doesn't open the door.

He told himself that many times as he left. It didn't reassure.

Which was why he had to promise himself - and his wolf - that he'd return tomorrow.

He only hoped she lived through the night.