Chapter Three
A garbage can came flying out of an alley, clanging on the concrete. He heard the sound of snarling and hissing, and loped down the alleyway, roaring with rage.
A chemical smell stung his nose. Two wolves were rolling on the ground, clawing at their eyes with their paws and yelping.
The lynx was backed up against a dumpster, in human form except for the claws that protruded from her fingertips. Her purse lay on the ground, contents spilled out.
She held a canister of mace in front of her, pointed at the other two wolves.
They were facing her, crouched low, the fur on their backs ridged with fury. Finn dodged the cloud of mace and took a swipe at one of the wolves with his paw. His claws raked the wolf’s flesh, ripping bloody strips. The wolf howled, and turned and ran, blood streaming down his side. He left a long red trail behind him.
His companions joined him, legs churning, eyes wild with fear. Their agonized yelps rang through the air as they raced away.
“Be sure to rinse your eyes out with running water for at least twenty minutes!” Flora called after them. “Also, don’t attack strangers! Or anybody! It’s very rude!”
Finn wanted to say, “Are you for real?” but he was still in lion form, so it came out as an astonished growl.
“Get back!” Flora cried out, pointing the can of mace at Finn. “If necessary, I will mace you!”
If necessary?Where was this woman from?
Finn quickly turned human again, his fur melting back into his skin, fangs retracting. He rose from a crouching position. His eyes stung from the lingering cloud of mace. “Damn, woman!” he complained, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Put that thing away – I’m here to help you!”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was you.” She was breathing hard. “I was doing fine,” she added, but she didn’t look too sure of herself. Her shirt was ripped and hanging open. She quickly peeled it off, reached into her purse and pulled out another shirt.
Finn couldn’t stop himself staring at her. That soft, rounded belly, her generous breasts straining against the white cotton bra…
“I know, I know,” Flora muttered as she buttoned her shirt.
“You know what?” Finn said.
“I’d be so pretty if only I’d lose a few pounds.” Her voice was sadly self-mocking.
“Who ever said that to you?” he said, indignant.
“Oh, my family, my mate-to-be…” She caught herself and looked away as she scooped the scattered contents of her purse back in.
So, she was supposed to be mated. To some idiot who didn’t appreciate a good thing when he saw it.
And given the fact that she was in the Badlands, things obviously hadn’t gone well there.
“Did he hit you?” he asked, and a sudden swelling of rage bubbled up inside him.
“No,” she said quickly. “Please forget I said anything. I’m fine, really.”
The two of them walked back to the street and looked both ways. The street was empty now, and mostly dark.
The buildings were all older, built back in the 1940s. That was when the Council for Shifter Affairs had set aside the state for the exclusive use of shifters who didn’t want to register. The few working streetlamps up and down the street were islands of light in the pitch black, not that it mattered. Shifters had excellent night vision.
“Come back to the club with me,” Finn said impulsively. “My apartment is in the building right behind it. You can crash at my place until Krystle gets back.”
She shook her head. “Oh, no, thank you anyway. I have a reservation at the hotel. It’s not far from here. I’m fine from here on in. Thank you for your help.”
“Where’s your mark?” he asked her, exasperated, but she turned and walked away, in nervous, rapid strides.
She was lying. Hotels in Darwin were filthy flophouses that didn’t take reservations.
Well, the hell with her, he thought resentfully. He’d done everything possible to help her, and she was still determined to get herself killed. He wasn’t about to run after her and drag her kicking and screaming back to the club.
