Noahyankedthebandageoff his throbbing side. From the sound of things, his savior had settled outside. If he did this quickly…
He gritted his teeth, fighting back screams as he willed the change. No sooner than he turned wolf, he reverted to human. No sounds from outside.
Noah lay panting. He’d never tried shifting back-to-back like that. Thank the gods he’d eaten or he’d never have the strength to even try. Now, though, he lay exhausted, sweat-slicked and aching. If he could just sleep a few hours…
He jolted awake to the shuffle of footsteps through leaves in the woods. The hunters! Right outside the tent. Oh shit! Trapped! Nowhere to run! Bracing against the pain, he glanced down at his human body and smoothed a hand down his flank. Ouch! Still a bit tender. No opening in the skin on his side, though the wound still hurt. After a few days, he’d heal completely.
At the moment, however, he was in no condition to run.
Why were the hunters outside?
He lay still, not making a sound. The scent of the man who’d saved him lingered nearby. Sloan? No. Slade.
“We been tracking a wolf. Big mother fucker. You seen him?” a gruff voice asked.
With a drawl Noah didn’t remember, Slade replied, “Wolf? I ain’t seen no wolf. Didn’t know y’all had wolves in these parts.”
“We do,” a woman’s voice snapped, tone sharp like a whip. “We’ve been tracking this one all damned day.”
“One wolf? Don’t they run in packs?” Slade’s tone implied sarcasm.
“Not this one,” the woman said. “This one is… special.”
Oh, fuck! Did the gun-toting couple know they hunted a shifter?
“Well,”—Slade dragged the word out “wwhhaaaaalle”— “I ain’t seen no wolves, special or otherwise.”
“You alone?” the gruff voice asked.
The unmistakablecha-chikof a gun slide reached Noah’s ears from Slade’s direction. Every bit of good-old-boy drawl left Slade’s voice. “If you’re asking if I’m a sitting duck for two dumb rednecks to take advantage of, then that’s a big oh hell no. For the record, you’ve picked the wrongest campsite in the world. Now get the hell out of here. You want to start trouble, I’m sure some bear or this big-assed wolf you’re talking about will take care of any evidence I leave behind.”
Noah well imagined the couple’s reaction. Predators didn’t take kindly to finding themselves the prey. Slade’s whole bad-assed biker persona, plus holding a gun… Yeah. Run.
“Hey, man. We didn’t mean nothing. Just askin’,” the woman backpedaled, a touch of panic in her voice.
“I’mtellingyou to get the hell away from my campsite. I might not know much about these parts, but I do know anybody out hunting at 2:00 a.m. likely got a reason for not wanting me to call the cops.” Hell, based on the anger in Slade’s voice, Noah would run too, if possible.
After a long moment of silence, two sets of footsteps faded away. Noah strained his hearing. No others lurked in the woods. He let out a pent-up breath.
A few more moments passed before Slade entered the tent, battery-powered lamp in hand. “You hear all they said?”
No use pretending to sleep. “Yes.” The answer sounded meek, even to Noah’s own ears.
“Know those assholes?”
“N… no.”
“They the ones who shot you?”
“I… I’m not sure.” How much could Noah safely say?
“How’s the wounds?” Slade yanked the blanket off, exposing Noah’s unwrapped side.
“No!” Noah cried, one second too late.
“What the hell?” Slade jumped back.
Noah pulled the blanket back over himself. “I… I heal fast.”
