Chapter 10 #3
An Alpha’s ego and pack politics would never allow an Alpha to return to his pack if he were bested by someone who didn’t have the benefit of preternatural speed, strength, or magic.
My stance changed to a defensive one. I was prepared to lose a fight to this shifter but not without treating him to a shock from my stun gun and a thorough battering to his crotch and any other area I could reach to give me a chance to escape.
Admittedly, I was optimistically brave too many times, but hand-to-hand fighting with a werewolf, especially an Alpha, wasn’t bravery—it was foolishness.
And I’d never be accused of being a fool.
Terran’s lips twitched as if he was resisting a smile. But the intensity in his eyes didn’t waver. It was all predator: sharp and calculating. “That’s a bold statement, Whisperer. You think you could take me?”
His expression darkened, and for a moment, I thought I’d pushed him too far. But then he smirked, and the tension eased enough for me to relax. “You’re funny,” he said in a light tone with an edge of warning. “But not everyone will find your humor as charming as I do.”
“Charming?” I raised an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
Terran’s body stiffened. His eyes glowed. The muscles in his neck distended before he fell to his knees and bowed his head while covering his ears.
Taking short, ragged breaths, he frowned at the effort it took to lift his head. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the area. I followed his search, looking for what had caused such a reaction.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a woman wearing large sunglasses.
Windswept strands of hair across her face obscured parts of it.
I wondered if it was intentional. But I quickly dismissed the thought when she waved at a man approaching on the same side of the street.
Turning around just in time, I saw a figure wearing a baseball cap with their head lowered.
When they lifted it, I noticed a mask seemingly attached to their hoodie.
Although it was chilly, the weather wasn’t cold enough to justify a hoodie.
I couldn’t recognize them by their eyes alone, which was always difficult.
Judging by build and frame, I assumed it was a man.
There was something about his build and height that reminded me of the man who hurried past us the night Amelia was cursed.
This wasn’t a coincidence. It was confirmed when he sprinted toward me, coming to a clumsy halt at the sight of the Taser in my hand.
A flicker of indecision danced in his eyes.
He turned, bent at the car parked two spaces from mine, and released something that clattered to the asphalt.
Then he raced away. Rushing to the car, I found a glass cylinder that pulsed with magic.
It was undeniably the source of Terran’s reaction.
I shattered it against the concrete. A glance over my shoulder showed Terran still curled into himself, his hands covering his ears.
At my signal that it was safe to uncover them, he tentatively eased his hands away.
He stood, gave me an appreciative nod, and with a powerful burst of speed, tore after the stranger in a blur of speed.
Terran’s powerful strides ate up the distance between him and the fleeing figure.
I sprinted after them, my heart pounding in my ears as we raced through tree-lined streets.
The assailant darted between parked cars, vaulting over a low wrought-iron fence with surprising agility.
Terran followed suit, his muscles bunching as he leaped the barrier in a single bound.
Just as Terran closed in, the hooded figure reached into their pocket and hurled something to the ground. A thick plume of acrid smoke erupted, engulfing the street in a hazy gray cloud. Terran growled, frustrated at losing sight of the man.
“Dammit!” His eyes were watering as he stumbled out of the smoke.
Twice his heightened senses had been incapacitated.
Closing my eyes, I pushed forward, running until I thought it was safe to open my eyes.
Feeling the heat wafting from Terran’s body next to mine, I opened my eyes to find that his were still closed.
The smoke had dissipated but there was still a haze over the area.
Traffic had slowed and people on the streets were looking around for the source.
Terran finally opened his eyes, his gaze now filled with predatory alertness as he continued his search.
He sniffed the air, frowning slightly as he brushed the back of his hand across his nose before pressing on.
A menacing gleam sparked in his eyes and he suddenly dashed down the street, narrowly avoiding an SUV while racing along North Damen Avenue, weaving around surprised pedestrians.
I struggled to follow him. Pushing myself to the brink, my lungs burned.
My frustration mounted as I lagged ever farther behind.
We pursued the witch through another residential area of charming vintage brownstone homes.
The hooded figure darted between houses, leaping over fences and cutting through backyards.
I broke away from Terran with the hope of cutting the witch off.
Rounding another unfenced home gave me an edge on time.
I waited for him until I saw a haze of smoke and a silhouette that wasn’t the witch.
His eyes lit with the eerie glow, confirming it was Terran.
Remnants of the smoke lingered, irritating my eyes. I replaced the Taser in my jacket before moving through the narrow space separating neighboring houses.
“What happened?” I asked, looking around, nudging Terran away from the property when he didn’t respond to my voice.
His face was vacant as he trailed me to the sidewalk.
Terran appeared more irritated by the mundane tactics the witch had used to avoid capture than his escape.
His eyes screwed closed, his jaw clenched, and he inhaled sharply through his nose.
He attempted to manage his anger. And failed miserably.
“Terran,” I began softly, “relax your jaw.”
He was at risk of cracking his teeth if he applied any more pressure. His wolf was close to the surface, fighting to emerge. He was at risk of shifting. Terran opened his eyes. There wasn’t a trace of humanity in them. It was all predator. Pissed-off predator.
I touched his hand. He quickly grasped it, intertwining his fingers with mine with a surprising gentleness. His warmth coiled over my skin. He moved closer, resting his cheek against mine. Inhaling, his body sank against mine. Then, the tension melting from him, his breathing smoothed out.
He edged even closer, like he was preparing to bury his face in my neck, when he suddenly jerked back, startled. Wrenching his hand from mine, he took several large steps back, staring at me with wide-eyed confusion while mumbling an apology and aggressively shoving his hands in his pockets.
Both of us trying to ignore the weirdness of that moment, we did a visual sweep, scanning every possible place, looking behind bushes, and anywhere that could provide cover. The man was gone. There was no way he’d just vanished. Yet it appeared that he had.
Except for Cirrian, I wasn’t aware of anyone who could teleport. But the witch had to be somewhere. A cloaking spell would allow him to hide in plain sight. At the thought of him skulking near and eavesdropping on our conversation, I reached out, touching the surrounding air.
Nothing. I felt silly doing it and was sure I looked just as ridiculous. I slipped my hand into my pocket, running my fingers along the Taser like it was a security blanket.
“Smoke bomb.” Terran looked disgusted. Frustration wafted from him as we walked away, continuously scanning. Occasionally, he lifted his nose to the air.
I reviewed every identifier I had of the witch: nondescript brown eyes, a little over five eleven, medium build, a black hoodie that could have been easily discarded, and jeans. Reduced to looking at the pants of all the men who passed by made me feel helpless.
“Can you track him by scent?” I asked Terran.
His head snapped in my direction, his brows furrowed into his glower.
How is he offended by that? Did he think I missed him sniffing the air?
Kara, don’t offend the people who can help you.
“I’m sorry. Not like an animal or anything—you know, like a person who has a keen sense of smell?
A…hunter, not like a bloodhound…” I sputtered.
He laughed.
Dear fates, take me now. I was better than this. I stopped rambling, took in a deep breath, then exhaled it slowly.
“Cute,” he whispered.
I frowned.
He grinned. “You’re offended that I think you’re cute?”
“It’s not the word. It’s the underestimation of my skills and competence that usually accompanies it,” I admitted.
“You can be cute and formidable. Have you met my third?”
I had. Easily described as the embodiment of Paddington Bear. He had a round face, dimples, nub nose, and a complementing charming British accent. His stout build made me think he’d shift into a bear rather than a wolf.
Terran brought his finger to his lips. “You never heard me say that.” The humor drained from his voice. “I can’t track him by scent because I can’t decipher his smell. And the smoke isn’t helping.”
We returned to our companionable silence until we came to the car where I’d smashed the charm. Terran picked up the remnants. “The sound-making charm is new.” Irritation and anger swept over him again. “I don’t like it.”
He smelled the shards. I was never going to get used to lycanthropes’ over-reliance on their olfactory senses, and them sniffing everything. Even if doing so could offer a clue, it was still just odd.
“I can imagine.”
The charm was an excellent weapon against people with preternatural hearing. Terran would discover what was required for the spell and make sure it was no longer available in his or the surrounding territories.