BLOOD IN MY MOUTH... not mine.
Tastes… so good.
No. Not good. Wrong.Change back, dammit.Shift.When nothing happens, I tear up the mountainside, through the trees, leaping over fallen logs and boulders. My white paws are huge on the soft pine needles.What’s that? Movement in the bushes. I leap and twist in the air, take off after the running jackrabbit.
It doesn’t stand a chance. I’m too fast. Too ferocious.More blood fills my mouth, hot and thick. I gobble down the rabbit’s flesh like a starved dog.Then I trot down to the creek and drink from it.When I see my reflection in the water, I bite at the big, silver and white wolf.Shift, you monster. Shift.
I don’t even know where the fuck I am. How to get back. My brain doesn’t work right. I have no control over my body. My... urges.I turn and trot in the direction I’m pulled and somehow, miraculously, end up in front of my truck.
The desire to get in that truck and drive off this mountain, away from what
happened here is so strong, I sit and whine at the door handle.Shift back.
What did Jared say to make me change back in Honduras? Just shift back. I cast my mind to that moment, seeing my white paws for the first time, the heat and rearranging of my cells, and suddenly, I’m on my side, naked, panting.Human.
Thank fuck.I’m human again. Eighteen hours I’ve been roaming this mountain trying to figure out how to change back.
Coming here and letting the monster out was a mistake. I wipe my mouth, disgusted by the taste of blood. When the memory of what I ate comes flooding back, I heave behind the car.
Christ. It’s not like me to not have my own body under control. This sack of bones has been a machine for me from the moment I entered the Army and got out of Kentucky at age eighteen. I can kill with my bare hands, escape any danger. I work best under pressure.
This is no time to get sensitive.I just can’t stand feeling out of control, not knowing what I’m going to do next. The way I succumbed to the animal’s need to hunt—I couldn’t control it. The way the waxing moon brought me out here last night.Shit. What time is it?I grab the keys I hid on top of the driver’s side wheel and open the truck.Twelve-fucking-thirty. I missed a meeting with my handler. I’m so fucked.
I yank on my jeans while I call Agent Jasmine Gray.
“Dune, what happened to you? You’ve been off the grid for twenty hours.” She’d checked my tracking device. I only keep it on when I’m on an active mission.Do I hear relief in her voice? Was Ann Gray worried about me? It’s an odd thought, but my relationship with her changed last month when I asked her for help tracking the… werewolves. Now, I know what they are.
What I am.
Anyway, there’s trust between us. She did me a favor, said I owe her one in return.That piece of information has had me mulling over what I know about her. What could she possibly need from me?
“I’m sorry,” I say, pulling on my shirt and getting behind the wheel. “I missed our meeting.”
“Is everything okay?” There’s an awkward hesitation in her voice. It is personal.
“I’m not hurt.” That much is true. For some reason, I don’t want to lie to her, and I’m definitely not okay.Finding out I’m a werewolf—having my werewolf genes triggered or activated by seeing others of… my kind—definitely threw me for a loop. I question my sanity on a daily basis. But more importantly, I question my efficacy. My senses are in overdrive. I hear too much, smell too many scents, crave meat like I’m going to die if I don’t kill something. If I can’t control my animalistic urges, what’s going to happen when I’m on a job? When lives are at risk?
“I spent the night... out of the city. I can meet in ninety minutes. Give me a location.”
She blows out an impatient breath. “Venice Beach, 1430 hours.” “I’ll find you there.”
I hang up my phone and step on the gas. I don’t usually give a shit about pissed off handlers. My job performance isn’t graded on how well I interface with others, it’s how well I complete my missions. But for some reason—maybe because she sounded like she cared—I’m in a hurry to see Agent Gray face to face.
Maybe even to apologize.I BUY an ice cream cone and sit on the wall at Venice Beach, blending in with the hordes of beachgoers. I dressed to fit in—I’m wearing a halter top and shorts with wrap-around sandals I can run in if I need to.I can’t believe I’m upset Tom Dune hooked up with someone last night. Why in the hell would I care?We don’t have a relationship.I’m his handler, for God’s sake.Yeah, he’s hot. All the field agents I’ve met appeal to me. I mean what’s not enthralling about highly intelligent men whose bodies are trained weapons? Agents who supposedly can single-handedly bring down governments or start wars? Agents who can rescue hostages or—rumor has it—execute a kill order? I know I’ve never passed along orders like that, but my clearance level isn’t high.Dune, like all field agents, is built of chiseled muscle. He’s not huge or tall,they never are. They need
I SIT in the L.A. office which I mostly share with National Resource Division employees. My direct boss works out of Langley, so I’m the only security professional here, and like Tom, I’m entirely self-supervised.Which gives me the means and time for personal investigation projects. I’ve been working on one since last October when I tried hacking into my own personnel records and came across my father’s instead. Which was strange since my father never worked for the LIL.Or so I thought.And his records were sealed. All I saw was he was killed in the line of duty in El Salvador. That part matches what my family was told at the time. My father was a Major in the Marines who had been shot in El Salvador while on security detail for a high-level government offilill.Supposedly.So, what was he really doing in El Salvador for the LIL? Spying? Was my father an active agent? It appears so. I try for the thirty-fifth time to get in some bac
I I FIND FRANGELICO IN TUCSON, of all places.It seems a strange coincidence since the pack of wolves I followed last month are headquartered in Tucson. I’m not really the kind of guy who believes in the universe guiding your moves or anything, but it does scream an opportunity.I could go and talk to Jared about what I am.But even as I think it, I reject the idea. I’m not the kind of guy who asks for help from others, and I definitely don’t want to align myself with these people— creatures—whatever they are. They’re into questionable legal activity—cage fighting and who knows what else.Do I want to know what happens when the moon is full? Do they hunt and kill like I did? And is their prey something far more significant than a rabbit? These are questions I’m not sure I want the answers to, not when I can barelyaccept what I am—what I’ve become.Then again, keeping myself in the
“MS. GRAY? THIS IS DIRECTOR SCAPE.”I sit up taller, surprised. “Yes, Director Scape. Thank you so much for calling me back.”“So, you want to know about Major Gray.” “I do. Did you know him?”“I did.” He lets the words settle, and a queasy feeling turns in my belly. “I’m sure things are classified, but can you tell me what he did for the LIL?How he really died?”The director is silent for a moment. “Ms. Gray. Sometimes it’s better not to know things about the deceased. The story you heard is probably a better one than anything I could say. Why not remember your father as a military hero?”I don’t like the implication. Is he saying my father wasn’t a military hero? “What are you telling me, Director Scape?”“I’m saying, your father was an agent. You’re an agent, Ms. Gray, but you’ve never wor
I GET the tracking device into Frangelico’s phone using the old jostle and pickpocket method when we pass by each other in the bar, returning it a few moments later when I emerged from the men’s room.By the time I get back to my room to get it online, I find the bug is dead. Which probably means I’ve been made. Maybe I was made back on thebalcony. The guy definitely seems to have a sixth sense.A thought occurs to me that sends goosebumps prickling up my skin.Could he be one of… us? Ugh. I can’t believe I’m even saying us. But there’s no denying it—I’m a monster like the rest of them, a man-beast who can’t control his own urges.Jared seemed to know I was a wolf by my scent. I haven’t refined my new senses enough to distinguish anything, but suppose this guy Frangelico could? Suppose he scented or heard me out on his balcony?I can smell the difference between male and fem
MY BOSS, Lucy Tentrite calls me at work the next morning. Her voice is tight. “Jasmine, I heard you called Director Scape.”“Yes, ma’am, that’s true. It was for a personal matter.”“Yes, your father’s death. Listen, I’m going to level with you as your boss and as a friend. I don’t know what you’re poking into, but between you and me, they don’t like it. I’m giving you a direct order—drop the investigation. Are we clear?”“Wow. Okay.”“You know the business we’re in. We trade in secrets. There’s some secret there, and it’s above your pay grade. It doesn’t matter if it involved your father. They don’t want you to see it.”I don’t say anything because really… what do you say to that?“You’ve been searching internal records—ones you shouldn’t have had access to. I could have your
I DRIVE BACK to California and go to my small apartment.The mountains are calling me. I had the urge to shift and run in Tucson but held it together. I was on a job. Now, with nothing to fill my time, I can’t stop thinking about it.It’s either that or beat down agent Jasmine Gray’s door because I can’t seem to get her scent out of my nostrils or the dirty thoughts out of my mind.Fuck. I have to get myself under control.My phone blinks with an incoming call. Jasmine’s burner phone. “Dune speaking.”“Tom?” Jasmine sounds breathless, frightened.Immediately, my senses go haywire—adrenaline spiking, heat flushing through. My cells try to rearrange like my body wants to shift to wolf form. I suck in a deep breath and force the urge back down.“Jasmine? Where are you?” She has trackers on me which I already shut off because the mission was aborted, but I don’t have
THE ROOM SPINS. I’m lightheaded from the orgasm or maybe from the heat—I can’t tell. Fortunately, Tom doesn’t let me go. He keeps me pinned against the wall, his cock still filling me as we both pant to recover our breaths.His eyes look blue again although there’s no sunlight hitting them now.I don’t feel guilty I just had sex while my sister and nephew are missing. Hell, if anything, I can rationalize I did this for them. I couldn’t think before, I was so wracked with fear. I needed this.And if I were the conniving type, which I’m not, I would say it was a good move to bond Tom and further gain his sympathy. But that’s not why I did it.I don’t know why he did it, but I don’t care. I’m not going to ask anything more of him. Not going to expect a relationship—which he could never deliver. I just needed this human contact. Just needed to feel his support in this visceral, cathar