His eyes widened, gun shaking, its barrel aimed at me. “Liza,” he shouted, motioning to the house as he scurried to his car. “Go get her.” The mini-van glowed in the moonlight. The door swung open and he slipped inside.
I sniffed the air. Craig’s scent clung inside my nostrils, blocking out the eucalyptus and citrus. Liza’s wasn’t far off as I started for the house. I didn’t move quickly, not then. There was a time for fast. Stalking was never it.
A nightingale chirped then fell silent as I approached the tree it was perched in. My stomach twisted. A nightingale was less than an appetizer.
Head tilted to one side, I watched the house. A breeze kicked up, running over my fur. Peter didn’t know I liked me after I changed. I liked the fur and the teeth. It was armor. He also didn’t know I
