Another Vultor male. Too close to his family.
His hand tightened on the knife as his eyes swept the tree line, searching for movement. The morning had been quiet when he’d left the den, the forest peaceful, and he’d allowed himself to relax into the rhythm of the hunt. A mistake. He should have been more vigilant.
There.
A flicker of shadow between the trees. A branch that bent under a weight it shouldn’t have been bearing. The faintest whisper of displaced air.
His muscles coiled, ready to spring, but he decided to wait. If another Vultor had found him, others would follow. Better to face the threat now, on his terms, than to be cornered later with everything he loved at stake.
He turned back to his kill, forcing his hands to steady as he resumed dressing the carcass. The knife moved through flesh and sinew with practiced ease, separating meat from bone. He didn’t look towards the trees. Didn’t acknowledge the presence lurking at the edge of his awareness.
Let the other male come to him. Let him show his hand first.
The waiting stretched, taut as a bowstring. His beast paced beneath his skin, growling low and continuous, but he kept his movements slow and deliberate, as if he hadn’t noticed the predator watching from the shadows.
Finally, a voice broke the silence.
“You’re either very brave or very stupid.”
He didn’t look up. “Most would say both.”
A laugh—low and rough, with an edge of genuine amusement. “Fair enough. Mind if I join you?”
“Would my objection stop you?”
“Probably not.”
The other Vultor emerged from the tree line with an easy, confident stride that set his teeth on edge. He was young—late twenties, perhaps, though it was always difficult to tell with their kind. Tall and broad-shouldered, with black hair pulled back from a face that might have been carved from granite. His eyes were amber, cold and calculating, and they swept over his crouched form with an assessment that missed nothing.
“Name’s Korrin.” He stopped a few paces away, close enough for conversation but far enough to react if things turned hostile. Smart. “I’m with the pack on the other side of the mountain.”
He set down his knife, wiping his blood-stained hands on the grass. “Your pack’s reputation precedes you.” He stood slowly, deliberately, letting the other male see the full breadth of his shoulders, the scars that marked his arms and chest. “Why are you here?”
Korrin’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You could call me a messenger. My alpha sent me.”
“Your alpha sent you to track down the exile in his territory?”
“This isn’t our territory.” Korrin’s tone was mild, almost conversational, but Tarek didn’t relax his guard. “It’s yours. Has been for years, from what I understand. We’ve respected that.”
“Until now.”
“Until now,” Korrin agreed. He shifted his weight, a casual movement that somehow managed to look both relaxed and ready for violence. “We’ve known you were here, but you kept to yourself and didn’t cause any trouble.” His gaze sharpened. “But things have changed. There are rumors about a human woman who went up a mountain and never came back down.”
His blood ran cold as he clenched his fists, fighting for control.
“What kind of rumors?”
“The usual.” Korrin shrugged, but his eyes remained fixed on Tarek’s face, watching his reactions. “That you’ve taken her captive. That you’re holding her against her will. That she and her sister fled the village to escape a monster and found something worse.”
A growl tore from his throat before he could stop it, low and vicious.
“She came to me willingly. They both did. I would never?—”
“I believe you.” Korrin held up a hand, palm out. “Calm down. I’m not here to accuse you of anything. I’m just telling you what’s being said.”
“Why?”
“Because the humans believe it. Or enough of them do.” His expression shifted, something that might have been sympathy flickering behind the cold amber of his eyes. “They’re talking about sending a hunting party to rescue the poor helpless woman from the big bad Vultor.”
