Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
Pack Lands, West of Methuen
7:00 PM
“ S mell that tang?” Hawk brushed his dark loose curls off his face, then buried his strong fingers in Abby’s chocolate-brown scruff.
His touch sent a tingle of anticipation down the back of Abby’s neck.
It was dusk, and the heavily forested lands surrounding the wolf den were bathed in deep shadows and myriad animal scents. Abby’s nostrils flared, taking in the spicy musk, and she leaned forward, stretching out her spine.
“A dee rrr? ” she asked, her wolf tongue straining to articulate and ending with a lick of her razor-sharp teeth.
Her three mates remained in their human forms, continuing her training while chuckling to themselves at her odd hybrid quirks.
She was still the only wolf who could use her human voice after a shift. Either that, or no other wolf wanted to try. She had to admit, it was a bit unnerving, even to her own ears.
“Good,” Dylan said, tightening the stubby blond ponytail at the base of his neck. “You’re getting better at this. It’s definitely a deer. Buck or doe?”
Abby growled. He didn’t really expect her to distinguish between the sexes now, did he? She could tell a carnivore from an herbivore, wasn’t that enough? Why on earth would the sex matter? A hunt was a hunt.
Except, like, you know…when it wasn’t.
Some hunts meant so much more, especially when she could never quite tell if she was the predator or the prey.
The Collector was still out there—somewhere in the world, somewhere in time. He might not have invaded her mind in recent weeks, but she could still feel him. Watching. Always watching. What was he waiting for?
She stalked forward, refocusing on the scent of the deer. She couldn’t see it through the trees, but she guessed it was fifty yards ahead.
“That’s it,” Hawk whispered in her ear. “You’re down wind. Take your time. Get closer before you make your move.”
Stryker didn’t say anything at all, but Abby felt the supportive weight of his hand against her flank.
She rounded a tree. She still couldn’t see the deer, but estimated it was now only thirty yards ahead, camouflaged by the shadows.
A stick snapped under her foot.
“ Shhh ,” Hawk said. “Easy.”
Abby counted to ten in her head, then drew in a deep breath and took a few more steps. They rounded another tree, then another, and…
There it was. Tall and tawny, with mud-covered hooves and a bright white chest. Judging by its single-spike antlers, it was only a yearling, though already magnificent—regal, even.
Its head shot up, and its dark eyes shone like liquid onyx.
Abby licked her teeth, eager to pounce.
The buck twitched, and Abby stopped breathing.
They were still down wind, but had she botched the hunt? Was the buck going to bolt?
“ Hold ,” Dylan said, dragging the word out, compelling her not to move.
The deer jerked its head to the side, clearly on high alert. But it wasn’t looking at them. It had turned in the opposite direction. Was it possible something else had spooked it?
And then Abby picked up the concerning scent herself. She didn’t know why she hadn’t noticed it sooner. Another animal was nearby—a carnivore, judging by its dark rich scent.
Hawk, Stryker, and Dylan all turned their heads in the direction the buck was looking. They seemed equally confused by the interloper.
Maybe it was because this second scent wasn’t as odd as it should have been. It was strangely familiar, yet somehow, when Abby searched her memory banks, it remained frustratingly out of reach.
Despite her inability to identify the scent, she associated it with danger, but without it being the source of the danger itself. Did that even make sense?
Did anything make sense? She was a talking wolf, for Pete’s sake.
“It’s human,” Hawk said.
Human? Abby sniffed at the air again while Hawk pulled off his shirt, preparing to shift.
A second later, Stryker and Dylan did the same. Their muscles flexed with urgency as they pushed down their jeans and kicked them off. They were already barefoot.
Normally, the sight of her mates’ naked, perfectly chiseled bodies was enough to capture Abby’s attention, distracting her from hunger, fatigue, pain, and every other sensation.
This, however, was not one of those times. The pack lands could be under attack. From the Collector? His zombie minions? Someone else entirely?
With a burst of energy, her mates lunged forward into their wolf forms—one silver, one black, one russet—and, with Abby, the four of them moved forward as a unit toward the strange new scent, the buck completely forgotten.
Hawk led the way. Abby, Stryker, and Dylan fell into a familiar V pattern behind him. They stalked forward, tracking whomever had been foolish enough to intrude on their woods. Regardless whether it was intentional or unintentional, the stranger was too close to the den for the pack’s comfort, and all of the wolves were programmed to defend.
Another stick snapped, this time under the intruder’s foot.
An unfamiliar male voice muttered a curse.
Hawk growled in response.
The intruder must have heard the deep, rumbling warning because he cursed louder, then took off at a run. Obviously, he was trying to make an escape, though his crashing footsteps only made him easier to track.
Ah! Yes! This was the part Abby liked best about her wolf half. The chase . It was thrilling! No matter the aftermath, the chase made her heart sing.
Her paws pounded against the earth, and her tail stretched out stiffly. Her spine prickled as her fur bristled.
Their pack quickly had the stranger in their sights. His back was to them as he ran, and though his shoulders weren’t particularly broad, his legs were long. His hair was midnight black and cut short. He wore a short-sleeved polo shirt, khaki shorts, and very white sneakers.
He wasn’t a boy, but he couldn’t have been too old because he raced through the woods with a fair amount of speed and grace, never looking back.
His arms pumped and clawed forward as if he wanted to swim through the air in front of him. Occasionally, he ducked under a low-hanging branch, or slapped at the twigs that threatened to smack him in the face.
Abby and her mates were so close on his heels now that she could hear the stranger panting. His feet thudded against the hard-packed ground.
Hawk huffed, and the rest of them—understanding his directive—fanned out, preparing to confront the intruder from multiple angles. It was a strategy that worked well, and within seconds, they had him surrounded.
The man skidded to a stop when he was confronted by Dylan’s russet wolf, then whirled to face the midnight-colored Stryker who was coming at him from the left.
The man bent his knees and put his arms out to his sides as if preparing to defend himself. As if he stood a chance.
Abby crept forward, coming at the man from his other side. He wasn’t particularly tall—maybe five-foot-ten—and in his mid-forties. His skin was tan with golden undertones.
And his scent… Why did she recognize that scent when she didn’t know his face?
She curled her lips back and flattened her ears while continuing to stalk forward.
The man whirled, and his dark eyes locked with hers before widening with—not surprise exactly, rather something more like relief.
That didn’t make sense. She may have been the smallest wolf in her pack, but she was just as lethal. She snarled to make her point.
Hawk echoed her reproach, and he bared his teeth as he stalked closer to their prey.
Abby expected the man to cry out, to try to escape, to do anything but stand there and stare at her— Her— when Hawk was the greater threat.
Instead of screaming, the man’s lips parted. He blinked once. His eyelashes were short and dense, making him look like he was wearing liquid eyeliner.
He leaned forward and asked in a tentative voice, “Dudette?”
Abby jerked back. No. It couldn’t be.
She sat back on her haunches and tipped her head to the side. It had only been three weeks since they’d last seen Ha-Jun Kim, but in that same amount of time—in his own time—he’d aged thirty years. Where was the gangly teenager in the Green Day T-shirt and broken glasses?
“Ju rrr ne Bug?” she asked, still not sure.
Jun smiled broadly at the sound of her voice. “Still friends? You’re not going to rip my throat out, are you?”
Hawk, Stryker, and Dylan rumbled out a collective sound that communicated both surprise and continued wariness.
“Wh- why a r e you he rrr e?” Abby asked, both excited to see him and worried about what had prompted an unannounced visit. “Something w rrr ong?”
“I would’ve called first,” he said apologetically, “but I didn’t know how to reach you. I thought I was on the right path, but my car hit a pothole and ricocheted like a pinball straight into a tr?—”
“Whe rrr e a r e you r glasses?” Abby blurted, knowing it was an inane question, given the circumstances, but she was still reeling from the drastic change in her friend’s appearance.
“I got contacts a long time ago.”
Right. This time warp business was going to mess with her head. Three weeks ago, she’d sent Jun back to 1995. His timeline had continued from there on. And now they were reunited. And he was…
“How old a rrr e you?” she asked.
“Am I that decrepit?” he asked with a wide grin. “I’m only forty-six, and I’m told forty is the new thirty, so...”
Hawk growled. He’d moved closer to Abby while Jun was talking, and he nudged her shoulder with his nose.
“Hawk still wants an answe rrr ,” she said. “Why a r e you he rrr e?”
Jun’s face got serious. So serious, it chilled Abby’s blood.
Here we go , she thought. Here we go.
“Dudette,” Jun said, taking a small step forward, “I’m here about the Collector. There’s something you all need to know.”