Stray Shifter

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

THE CLOSET DOOR BORE no lock, which meant the woman inside could emerge at any moment. But she didn’t. Instead, she spoke again as I strode toward her hiding place. “Timothy? Look, I’m sorry about what I said earlier.”

This was interesting. I paused, but no further information was forthcoming. So, using my non-dominant hand, I fumbled open the door.

I vaguely noted that the smoke outside must be clearing because sun streamed through the broken window to illuminate the woman who’d spoken. She was pressed up against shelves of cleaning supplies and printer paper, bound hand and foot with zip ties. Long dark hair snaked around her shoulders, some caught on her sweat-streaked brow.

She hadn’t been lying about the heat.

She hadn’t been lying about thinking I was Timothy either. The bridge of her nose crinkled up in confusion. “Who are you?”

“Honor,” I answered, watching for recognition in her eyes and seeing exactly what I expected.

So, a Trojan horse, not an innocent victim. I turned away without completing the introductions, forcing my feet to carry me back to where Arthur lay beneath the desk.

“Hey!” the woman called after me. “I was talking to you!”

She sounded more annoyed than terrified. Yet another data point, and not one in her favor. Settling onto my knees, I leaned forward into the desk cavity, searching Arthur’s face for any sign of life.

His eyes were closed. If he was breathing, it was too shallow to be visible. I stretched my hand toward his nostrils...then banged my head against the top of the desk as my vision flickered from the real world to the view from behind Luke’s eyes.

Wolves wove in and out around us so quickly they might have been waltzing. The pain shooting up our side, however, and the blood in our peripheral vision suggested a more deadly dance.

Despite the throbbing pain, Luke didn’t remark upon the battle. Instead, he must have seen what I was seeing because he asked, “Is Arthur alive?”

“Watch out!” I countered.

I wasn’t sure how Luke managed it while peering through my eyes and carrying on a conversation, but he dodged an oncoming wolf at the last possible second. The wolf skidded in a failed attempt to slow his mad dash forward. Metal clanged as the beast struck the chain-link fence.

They were inside the backup barrier. I hadn’t been fast enough.

“Arthur,” Luke prodded, as if the two of us were engaged in civilized dinner conversation.

As he spoke, he struck the enemy wolf so fast and hard all I saw was a flash of fur followed by blood spurting. Even though I was used to wolf fights after spending so long among the skinless, the sight of such serious injury unsettled my stomach.

And yet, I was grateful to have Luke beside me as I checked Arthur’s vitals. “Hold on,” I told him. Then, stretching another six inches forward, I pressed two fingers into the indentation at the base of our friend’s throat.

***

“I’M DESTINY.” THE WOMAN’S voice impinged upon my attempt to determine whether the flutter of pulse beneath my fingertips was wishful thinking. “They hit him over the head. If you cut me loose, I’ll help carry him to safety.”

Ignoring her, I pressed my forefinger just a little deeper into Arthur’s flesh then smiled. “Alive,” I reported. “How’s the battle?”

I’d lost track of what Luke was doing as I focused on Arthur. Now, my mate turned his head so I could see the fight winding down. “We’ve corralled the few who made it in and should be able to force them out the back gate shortly,” my mate reported. “The rest are already heading your way, so keep your eyes open. Who’s Destiny?”

I shrugged, crawling back out from under the desk then grabbing Arthur’s feet to drag him into the light along with me. “A trap, I think. She was tied up in the supply closet.” I pulled up the memory of Destiny’s predicament to send down our mate bond along with the words. Finished with: “She knew my name.”

Luke hummed deep in his throat. Despite everything, the sensation sent a burst of cinnamon spiraling up out of the scar on my shoulder. “Lone wolves are hard on their women.”

“So the attackers were lone wolves?” On the one hand, identifying our attackers as non-pack was good. We’d have a better chance of driving away a loose confederation of lone wolves than we would vanquishing one of our neighbor clans.

On the other hand...did even the dregs of skinless society think the Acosta pack was easy pickings? That was definitely bad news.

“As best we can tell,” Luke confirmed. “Either way, they still have teeth. I’ll send someone along to help you with Arthur. Be careful while you wait.”

Luke’s voice faded as something more pressing required his attention. Which was fine. From the direction of the pack compound, howls reminded me I needed to get a move on also.

Too bad Arthur weighed half again as much as I did. I could either wait for help or I could try to wake him up.

I shook his shoulder. First gently, then harder.

Arthur didn’t even manage to moan.

“You should use your pelt.”

For the first time since dismissing her, I turned back to face Destiny. She was still trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, but her chin was raised and her eyes were fiery.

She’d known my name, so of course she knew I was a woelfin. Still, I chose my words carefully. “How do you suggest I use it?”

“You don’t know?” She attempted to scratch an itch at her waist, tough when her wrists were bound behind her. “Cut me free and I’ll show you.”

“You will, huh?” Maybe Luke was right. Maybe that was desperation talking.

Still, Destiny didn’t look desperate. Her gaze was tinged with something closer to pity.

And whatever itched was apparently more pressing than talking her way to freedom. Because she twisted her entire torso until one thumb became visible, pushing up her t-shirt to reveal her belly.

No. Not her belly. That was something soft and furry.

Her t-shirt had rucked up to reveal a woelfin’s pelt.