gut.
Katie chuckled. “Ah, yeah, considering I thought I was heading to the airport.” She opened the back door and yanked out a faded New Orleans Saints sweatshirt.
Baye lifted an eyebrow.
Jordan met his gaze squarely, possessiveness nearly choking him. There had better be nothing going on between his old friend and his ... Jesus. Katie wasn’t his. He shook his head, turning toward the swamp. “We need to get moving.” The sooner he dropped Katie at headquarters and headed off to fight, the better.
Katie drew the sweatshirt tighter around her, trying to clear her mind. Two guns sat at her waist, three knives were strapped to her legs. Cold from the marshboat seat slid from her thighs to her spine. They traveled a narrow path, sweeps of branches high above hiding the sky. The day began turning muggy, but hidden in the bayou, darkness and cold still ruled. A flash of orange came through the trees from Lance running along the bank in tiger form.
Baye sat in front of her, Jordan behind her, both keeping an eye on the marshy land while they rowed the small craft.
Her only thought was of the lioness inside. She’d felt the lioness awaken. How had it happened? Could the virus be running its course? Was she going to be able to shift again? Reality and hope fought for dominance inside her. When she’d faced Jordan in the alley, for the first time in a decade, she’d sensed the animal within her pores.
Katie dug down deep to find her again, but nothing. No feeling of the animal within. Regret and frustration had her clenching her hands.
Lance gave a sharp yowl from the bank. Birds protested, wings flapping as they flew for safety.
Katie yanked her attention back to werewolves. She’d have to worry about the lioness later. Right now she needed to hunt.
Cattail and bull tongue plants lined the banks, along with the timber stands. A muskrat raccoon swam by lazily, seemingly unafraid of the abundant alligators hiding below. Brave little animal.
The soft splash of the oars was broken only by an occasional cry of a bald eagle high above. Dark and murky, the swamp hid treasures and wildlife. A lonely breeze swept her hair, chilling her skin and bringing the scent of decaying moss.
The shifter in front of her was on guard, the shifter behind her pissed off. Jordan must be irritated he had to stop and fight werewolves instead of heading straight to Oregon.
She was irritated, too. Baye and Lance were good friends, the best, and Jordan hadn’t even given her a chance to say good-bye. If Baye hadn’t found the lair, she’d be on her way to Realm Headquarters right now.
Her spine tingled. An ache centered at the base of her skull. Darkness swam over her vision, and she tightened her hold on the side of the boat. The energy signature sent out by the beasts caused pain as well as disorientation. At least for her. “We’re getting closer. They’re to the right.”
She swallowed, the taste of dead animal permeating her saliva. Yeah, they were close.
Baye steered to the bank, jumping out to drag the boat up the mossy embankment. He lifted his head, scanning the area. “I get a general sense of maybe three werewolves but can’t get a direction.”
Jordan leapt out, reaching a hand to help her. She paused. For ten years she’d been treated as one of the guys by her squad. Well, kind of—they still protected her during battle. The gentlemanly gesture from Jordan, so natural, set flutters alive in her abdomen. “Oh, for goodness sakes,” she muttered, taking his hand and sliding out of the boat. She didn’t have time for this crap.
Releasing him, she stomped up the bank toward the trees. The pounding in her skull increased in power. Squinting, she pointed at a narrow trail. “That way.”
Jordan nodded, taking the lead. “Stay between me and Baye.”
“This isn’t my first hunt, Jordan.” What the hell did the lion leader think she’d been doing the last ten years? Charging into danger like a dumbass
Katie chuckled. “Ah, yeah, considering I thought I was heading to the airport.” She opened the back door and yanked out a faded New Orleans Saints sweatshirt.
Baye lifted an eyebrow.
Jordan met his gaze squarely, possessiveness nearly choking him. There had better be nothing going on between his old friend and his ... Jesus. Katie wasn’t his. He shook his head, turning toward the swamp. “We need to get moving.” The sooner he dropped Katie at headquarters and headed off to fight, the better.
Katie drew the sweatshirt tighter around her, trying to clear her mind. Two guns sat at her waist, three knives were strapped to her legs. Cold from the marshboat seat slid from her thighs to her spine. They traveled a narrow path, sweeps of branches high above hiding the sky. The day began turning muggy, but hidden in the bayou, darkness and cold still ruled. A flash of orange came through the trees from Lance running along the bank in tiger form.
Baye sat in front of her, Jordan behind her, both keeping an eye on the marshy land while they rowed the small craft.
Her only thought was of the lioness inside. She’d felt the lioness awaken. How had it happened? Could the virus be running its course? Was she going to be able to shift again? Reality and hope fought for dominance inside her. When she’d faced Jordan in the alley, for the first time in a decade, she’d sensed the animal within her pores.
Katie dug down deep to find her again, but nothing. No feeling of the animal within. Regret and frustration had her clenching her hands.
Lance gave a sharp yowl from the bank. Birds protested, wings flapping as they flew for safety.
Katie yanked her attention back to werewolves. She’d have to worry about the lioness later. Right now she needed to hunt.
Cattail and bull tongue plants lined the banks, along with the timber stands. A muskrat raccoon swam by lazily, seemingly unafraid of the abundant alligators hiding below. Brave little animal.
The soft splash of the oars was broken only by an occasional cry of a bald eagle high above. Dark and murky, the swamp hid treasures and wildlife. A lonely breeze swept her hair, chilling her skin and bringing the scent of decaying moss.
The shifter in front of her was on guard, the shifter behind her pissed off. Jordan must be irritated he had to stop and fight werewolves instead of heading straight to Oregon.
She was irritated, too. Baye and Lance were good friends, the best, and Jordan hadn’t even given her a chance to say good-bye. If Baye hadn’t found the lair, she’d be on her way to Realm Headquarters right now.
Her spine tingled. An ache centered at the base of her skull. Darkness swam over her vision, and she tightened her hold on the side of the boat. The energy signature sent out by the beasts caused pain as well as disorientation. At least for her. “We’re getting closer. They’re to the right.”
She swallowed, the taste of dead animal permeating her saliva. Yeah, they were close.
Baye steered to the bank, jumping out to drag the boat up the mossy embankment. He lifted his head, scanning the area. “I get a general sense of maybe three werewolves but can’t get a direction.”
Jordan leapt out, reaching a hand to help her. She paused. For ten years she’d been treated as one of the guys by her squad. Well, kind of—they still protected her during battle. The gentlemanly gesture from Jordan, so natural, set flutters alive in her abdomen. “Oh, for goodness sakes,” she muttered, taking his hand and sliding out of the boat. She didn’t have time for this crap.
Releasing him, she stomped up the bank toward the trees. The pounding in her skull increased in power. Squinting, she pointed at a narrow trail. “That way.”
Jordan nodded, taking the lead. “Stay between me and Baye.”
“This isn’t my first hunt, Jordan.” What the hell did the lion leader think she’d been doing the last ten years? Charging into danger like a dumbass
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