mid-twenties, Megan thought, but the lines around his eyes made him seem a good ten years older.
“You’re welcome, Mr. Jarrett. Anything?” Megan asked, jerking her chin at the screen.
“Pretty sure it’s Ostheim,” her boss said. “We have to check some more, make sure the evidence is solid before we run with it.”
“You’re not going after them yourselves, are you?” Her gut roiled at the thought, and her fingers curved into claws as the wolf decided she didn’t like the thought too much either. She jammed her hands behind her back.
Alex, keeping his eyes on the computer screen, made a noncommittal noise. She knew that noise; it was the one that meant he was thinking about it but didn’t want to upset her.
“At least tell me before you do it,” she said. “I don’t need what I think is a quiet evening interrupted by another phone call like I got tonight. Please. Alex.”
His head came up at her use of his first name in front of other people, and he scanned her face with a little frown. She hoped her eyes were still the right color. “All right, Megan,” he said slowly. “I’ll at least do that much.”
And that might give her a chance to talk him out of it. “That’s all I ask. I think I’m going to nap on the couch for an hour or so. Yell if you need anything.”
He tilted his head. “You okay?”
“Sure.” She tried for a bland expression, wasn’t sure if she achieved it. “Just tired. I think I’m allowed.”
One side of his mouth quirked. “Don’t make a habit of it, Miss Graham.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Jarrett,” she said, and made her escape from the room.
She didn’t like lying to Alex, but if she didn’t get out of the house, with its overpowering scents and emotions, she’d wolf out in front of him and everyone else, and that was on her list of “things to do never.”
Alex’s house sat on fifty acres of land bordering the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area, and they often heard coyotes howling up there during late work-nights. She figured it was remote enough that no one would see her or bother her. She went outside, found a dry spot under a bush to drop her clothes, and stripped. The wolf was eager, trying to shift before Megan was ready, but she made it wait a few extra seconds before dropping to a crouch and letting the Change take her. Bones lengthened, organs moved around, fur sprouted. The process was stretchy and weird, but not actively painful unless she tried to stop it during a full moon, which she counted as a small favor.
The wolf leaped away through the sage and the rain. Her senses, already preternaturally acute, sharpened even more. Rain still slashed down in torrents, but she didn’t mind. She ranged across Alex’s property, knowing the boundaries better than he did, marking it, checking to make sure everything was as it should be.
It wasn’t.
She stopped, nose questing, crouching down behind a clump of brush that had trouble hiding a wolf the size of a pony. There, a stranger up on the hill. Watching the house. Her hackles rose—she knew everyone in Alex’s security force, and this person didn’t belong. The man hadn’t seen her, though, and she slunk closer, teeth bared.
Scent of gunpowder and steel. Rifle. Not silver, because she’d both smell and sense that, so no danger to her. She could kill him here and now, no one would know, in a remote enough area of the property that his body might never be found …
The human part of her recoiled. No. No killing. We don’t do that . Megan had never killed anyone in her life and wasn’t about to start.
The wolf whined softly and rubbed her muzzle with a paw. Danger .
Not the way . The human was beginning to wonder if she was going to have to take control back, and the wolf subsided with ill grace.
She needed to get back and let Alex know. However, human and wolf made a joint decision to sweep the rest of the property first, just to make sure no one else had invaded.
O O
“You’re welcome, Mr. Jarrett. Anything?” Megan asked, jerking her chin at the screen.
“Pretty sure it’s Ostheim,” her boss said. “We have to check some more, make sure the evidence is solid before we run with it.”
“You’re not going after them yourselves, are you?” Her gut roiled at the thought, and her fingers curved into claws as the wolf decided she didn’t like the thought too much either. She jammed her hands behind her back.
Alex, keeping his eyes on the computer screen, made a noncommittal noise. She knew that noise; it was the one that meant he was thinking about it but didn’t want to upset her.
“At least tell me before you do it,” she said. “I don’t need what I think is a quiet evening interrupted by another phone call like I got tonight. Please. Alex.”
His head came up at her use of his first name in front of other people, and he scanned her face with a little frown. She hoped her eyes were still the right color. “All right, Megan,” he said slowly. “I’ll at least do that much.”
And that might give her a chance to talk him out of it. “That’s all I ask. I think I’m going to nap on the couch for an hour or so. Yell if you need anything.”
He tilted his head. “You okay?”
“Sure.” She tried for a bland expression, wasn’t sure if she achieved it. “Just tired. I think I’m allowed.”
One side of his mouth quirked. “Don’t make a habit of it, Miss Graham.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Jarrett,” she said, and made her escape from the room.
She didn’t like lying to Alex, but if she didn’t get out of the house, with its overpowering scents and emotions, she’d wolf out in front of him and everyone else, and that was on her list of “things to do never.”
Alex’s house sat on fifty acres of land bordering the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area, and they often heard coyotes howling up there during late work-nights. She figured it was remote enough that no one would see her or bother her. She went outside, found a dry spot under a bush to drop her clothes, and stripped. The wolf was eager, trying to shift before Megan was ready, but she made it wait a few extra seconds before dropping to a crouch and letting the Change take her. Bones lengthened, organs moved around, fur sprouted. The process was stretchy and weird, but not actively painful unless she tried to stop it during a full moon, which she counted as a small favor.
The wolf leaped away through the sage and the rain. Her senses, already preternaturally acute, sharpened even more. Rain still slashed down in torrents, but she didn’t mind. She ranged across Alex’s property, knowing the boundaries better than he did, marking it, checking to make sure everything was as it should be.
It wasn’t.
She stopped, nose questing, crouching down behind a clump of brush that had trouble hiding a wolf the size of a pony. There, a stranger up on the hill. Watching the house. Her hackles rose—she knew everyone in Alex’s security force, and this person didn’t belong. The man hadn’t seen her, though, and she slunk closer, teeth bared.
Scent of gunpowder and steel. Rifle. Not silver, because she’d both smell and sense that, so no danger to her. She could kill him here and now, no one would know, in a remote enough area of the property that his body might never be found …
The human part of her recoiled. No. No killing. We don’t do that . Megan had never killed anyone in her life and wasn’t about to start.
The wolf whined softly and rubbed her muzzle with a paw. Danger .
Not the way . The human was beginning to wonder if she was going to have to take control back, and the wolf subsided with ill grace.
She needed to get back and let Alex know. However, human and wolf made a joint decision to sweep the rest of the property first, just to make sure no one else had invaded.
O O
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