Chapter Twelve
LEON
A few hours later, they reached the place the men had camped that night. The scent was so fresh, Leon realized they’d only just missed them.
Without a word, they veered off the open trail and scaled the steep hillside above, moving quickly and quietly through the trees. From there, they’d have a clear vantage point and less chance of being seen.
Karl moved more quietly than Leon would have expected for a wolf. There was a fluidity to the way he handled the terrain, and though he wasn’t perfect, like a cat would be, he was good enough that Leon grudgingly approved. Almost.
Down below, the voices carried at the kind of volume that made Leon’s tail twitch in annoyance. Football. They were talking about a game they were going to watch after they got back from their little adventure. Jackasses.
As the pair came into view, Leon and Karl both sank low, pressing flat against the hillside. It wasn’t necessary. The two men weren’t alert enough to notice a tree falling on them, let alone two predators watching from the undergrowth.
Leon caught Karl’s gaze and indicated with his head in a human way because he didn’t know if he would understand cat language. Karl understood that, at least, and the two of them slunk silently away, only shifting at a safe distance.
“Underwhelming,” Leon muttered. “A newborn kitten could take them down before they noticed.”
Karl gave a noncommittal grunt. “Still don’t know if they’re armed. Even a fool can pull a trigger fast.” He looked at Leon, something cautious in his expression. “If not for how long they were watching the ranch, I’d say they were just nosy hikers.”
Leon nodded slowly. “I was thinking the same.”
They stood in silence for a moment, then Karl said, “Let’s find out for sure.”
This time, it didn’t feel so much like an order as an agreement.
They sketched out a rough strategy between them. Leon didn’t love how much he still had to guess at Karl’s instincts. There was no shared rhythm between them, not the way he had with Luna’s guard. But Karl didn’t seem like he’d throw him under the bus either. They’d manage.
Low and silent, Leon stalked behind the two hikers, every step deliberate. His paws barely whispered against the earth. Even as he tracked them, he kept scanning the woods, alert to whatever else might be out there.
The older one smelled of stale cigarettes.
It clung to him like a second skin, coating the air and muting every other scent.
Leon wrinkled his nose and adjusted, filtering through the haze.
There was nothing to suggest weapons, no sharp metal tang, no hint of gun oil.
Just the sloppiness of people too confident they were alone.
They rounded a bend and stopped short so suddenly Leon almost ran into them.
“Holy shit!” The older one grabbed his friend’s arm, his voice loud and panicked.
Leon eased to the side for a better view, and there was Karl, standing stock-still in the middle of the path.
The black wolf wasn’t growling. He didn’t need to.
He just stood there, massive and utterly immovable, the weight of his gaze pressing down like a thunderhead.
That kind of presence couldn’t be faked.
Even alphas didn’t always have it, but Karl did, and then some.
The men spun around.
Leon was already shifting, rising into human form just in time to meet them with arms crossed and a dangerous glare.
One of them choked on a breath. “What the fuck?”
“Shifters.” The other one hissed it, with a nervous look over his shoulder at Karl.
Leon stayed silent, watching them squirm under his gaze, wondering idly if they might be about to wet themselves. Certainly, there was no fight in them. Karl must have seen that too, because he shifted and moved forward.
“Shifters who’d like to know why you were spying on us,” he said.
Arousal flared in Leon, hot and fast, at the casual threat in Karl’s voice and the predatory grace with which he stalked. Leon was suddenly very aware of Karl’s body—broad shoulders, narrow hips, the play of his muscles as he gestured for the man to give him the rucksack he was clutching.
It hit Leon hard, how ridiculously hot Karl was. Like, objectively, he was scorching. And okay, maybe he stared a second too long because he missed whatever led to the rucksack being surrendered.
“We didn’t mean any harm,” the older man babbled. “We were hiking and just wanted to see the silver wolf. We didn’t trespass.”
“Strange route for a hike,” Leon said. They jumped at the sound of his voice and glanced around, panicked. Clearly, they’d forgotten about him when faced with the threat of Karl.
He gave them a slow smile, just enough fang to make them back up a step. And then Karl pulled something out of the rucksack, and Leon’s amusement vanished as if it had never existed.
It was a hard-sided case. He tensed, eyes flicking to Karl, who crouched to open it. As he did so, Leon let out a long, slow breath, feeling his hackles go back down and every muscle slacken in relief. It wasn’t a gun—the case was full of camera gear.
The tension in Karl’s body eased, though the anger in his face as he smoothly rose to his full height again shouldn’t have reassured the two men. “You’ve been taking photos.”
“Well, yeah.” The older one. In his late thirties, scruffy beard, developing an attitude now the initial shock was past. “We like nature.”
Leon hissed. Couldn’t help it ripping out of him as rage burned fast and furious at the man’s damn nerve. The men startled and stepped closer together, like proximity might save them.
Karl ignored the noise. He was busy flipping through the camera’s display, impassive.
“You say nature,” Leon said, “I say spying on shifters going about their daily business.”
“Memory cards.” Karl didn’t look up. He just held out a hand, expectant and implacable.
The younger one fumbled through his pockets, finally handing over three cards with the air of someone hoping cooperation might earn mercy.
Karl took them. “And the others?”
“That’s all of them,” the guy mumbled. “Swear.”
Karl looked up then, gaze moving slowly between the two of them. Not threatening—assessing. As if he were deciding exactly what he’d do if they lied.
Leon was a little relieved that gaze wasn’t on him. And a little not. Because God, it was hot.
He forced his attention back to the hikers. “Cut the crap. Why were you taking photos?”
The older guy squared up, trying to regain some kind of footing. “Why d’you think? We knew the area, figured there was a way to see the silver wolf. You’ve been all over the news so of course we wanted to see.”
“And maybe sell a few pictures?” Karl’s voice was smooth, but Leon saw the heat banked under the surface, dangerous and rising.
“Man’s gotta live,” the guy said. “And I want those memory cards back. They’re Randy’s.”
Karl turned just enough to look at the younger man. Not a big movement, but enough that Randy stopped breathing. The older one, unwisely, doubled down and held out his hand.
“They’re our property.”
“No,” Karl said, and broke the first card clean in half.
Randy flinched, and Leon almost winced in sympathy.
“You have a problem with this, talk to my alpha,” Karl said, snapping the next card without hesitation. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to meet the men who took secret photos of his pack.”
Leon could practically hear the mental gear-shift as the hikers registered that if this guy had an alpha, they really didn’t want to meet him. He couldn’t see their faces but was sure they didn’t have the same half-amused, half-turned-on-like-you-wouldn’t-believe expression that he must have.
Randy had the sense to keep quiet. The other didn’t.
“Can we go now?” he asked. He tried for sarcastic, but his voice wavered at the end.
Karl didn’t answer. Just dropped the mangled cards into the case and put the camera back with a lack of care that made Randy wince.
Much as he wanted to ask them if they’d been watching Luna, Leon couldn’t do so without alerting them that she was at the ranch.
It sounded as if they’d only been after the Argent.
But if they’d sold those photos, someone might have recognized a member of Luna’s delegation, and then the cat would have been out of the bag. Literally.
Not that there needed to be any great secret about the fact cats were visiting wolves. It was more the security complications that arose once her location was known. Easier to fly under the radar whenever possible.
“If I find that photos you’ve taken appear anywhere,” Karl said, “I will find you.”
He stepped out of their way, and they grabbed their gear, moving away so fast they were practically running. Once they finally judged themselves far enough away, the older one turned to glare at them.
“I’ll see you in court. And put some clothes on, you freaks!”
Karl took a step forward, and Leon swiftly moved in front of him. “Are we making you feel inadequate?” he called, and let it roll out slow and smug. The echo of his purr chased the men down the trail.
Job done—he could hear Karl let out a breath, regaining the control that had seemed to slip for just an instant.
“You believe their story?” Leon asked quietly, once they were out of sight.
“Since they only had one brain cell between them, I think we’d know if they realized your queen was at the ranch.”
Leon nodded. They’d come to the same conclusion, and he found that oddly reassuring. “We should follow them. Make sure they’re really heading out.”
Karl gave a low grunt of agreement. “I don’t think they’re itching for a rematch.” He paused, then added with the faintest flicker of amusement, “At least, not with you. And that’s without seeing your cat.”
Leon stared at him. “Was that a compliment?”
“You’re full cat even when you’re human,” Karl said. And then he grinned—quick, unguarded, and bright. Leon blinked, because that smile was lethal.
Smoothing his hair back, Leon tried not to look as flustered as he felt. “Why waste perfection on just one form?”
Then he smiled back—a small, mysterious cat-like smile because he wasn’t going to lose any cat-like mystique Karl thought he had by grinning the way he wanted to—before shifting and padding off after the hikers.
KARL
They turned back once they’d watched the two hikers get into their truck and drive off. The immediate threat was gone, though the weight remained—for all he knew, they might come back, better prepared next time.
Some of the stress in his shoulders eased, but new tightness took up residence as he realized how long he’d been away from the ranch. From his pack. If anything had happened to them while Karl had been chasing would-be paparazzi…
He shook himself and put those thoughts from his mind as he picked up the trail again to return home.
A few miles on, the rain began. At first, just cold pinpricks that scarcely made it through his fur.
Then it thickened into a full-on downpour, the kind that flattened sound and soaked to the bone.
Karl tilted his head up and, in the instant before rain punched into his eyes, he saw heavy clouds stretching horizon to horizon. Absolutely fucking perfect.
He glanced sideways. Wet cats were a cliché for a reason, it turned out—Leon’s usual graceful slink looked more like sulky protest, his fur plastered to his skin in a way that was almost unflattering. But his eyes were fixed ahead of him, and he kept moving.
Karl slowed a little, knowing Leon was built differently, that he couldn’t just keep going at a run forever even though his cat body was bursting with raw power.
He imagined those muscles bunching as Leon launched himself into a fight, claws sliding out from his massive paws, and found himself glad the cat was on their side. For now, at least.
Leon was still arrogant, irritating, and far too pleased with himself, but when it counted, he’d read Karl and followed his lead without hesitation.
He’d also stopped him, quietly, from doing something he’d regret, when that guy’s comment had been the last straw.
Karl would never usually rise to provocation, but he was tired, and they’d been assholes.
Not many people could stop Karl. Most wouldn’t even try. But somehow, he’d let Leon defuse the situation, and been grateful for it.
Right now, looking at how wet and cold Leon was in the damp chill that felt like it was stealing the warmth from Karl’s bones, Karl made a unilateral decision.
He’d been letting the past ride him, when he knew Matt would keep the pack safe in his absence.
They could afford a short break without disaster.
He turned them toward the trees and the nearest cache.
Half an hour later, they were shifted, clothed, and drinking coffee under a makeshift shelter they’d rigged using a tarp and rope.
The rain was still coming down, but at least they weren’t getting any wetter.
They were also warm, because the lack of space under the shelter meant they were closer than Karl had been to anyone except his pack for more years than he’d care to remember.
They weren’t touching, but Karl’s body—tired, frayed, full of leftover adrenaline—was confusing proximity with something else.
Leon didn’t seem to notice.
Except… perhaps he did. Every now and then, he pushed his hair behind his ear. The move appeared casual, but Karl had noticed the way Leon did it when he was on edge about something.
Karl breathed in slowly, Leon’s warm, sweet scent hitting him like spring after snow. He stared hard into the steam rising from his mug.
This wasn’t smart. He hadn’t let himself touch anyone in years, except his pack. He hadn’t let himself want to. And now his skin was buzzing just from the nearness of another body. That didn’t feel safe.
The worst part? He didn’t know if he wanted to get away from it, or turn into it. To lean, fraction by fraction, until he could feel the press of warm skin against his.
He stayed very still instead. If he didn’t move, didn’t breathe too deeply, it would pass.
And then Leon shifted even closer. Just a hair, but deliberate.
Karl stopped breathing. The only sound was the rain hammering on the tarp and the soft, slow breaths from Leon beside him.
Leon said, low and calm, “Seems as if we’ve both got the same problem.”
Karl turned his head, warily.
Leon looked sideways at him, a smile ghosting at the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps we should do something about it.”