Wolves' Bane (The Order of the Wolf, #3)(37)



“I may not understand what it feels like to have found my Huntress, but I do understand how badly you’re f*cking things up with her. You’re acting like an ass, man.”

Cal growled as he launched himself again, his one fist easily deflected while the other hit home.

Lance groaned as he bent over double, sucking in a deep breath and holding his left hand out to stop another attack. “Listen, Cal,” he gasped. “You can beat the shit out of me or we can go and check this out. It’s up to you.” He pulled himself halfway up, his hand still cradling his midsection. “But if it were me, I’d rather use my energy to fight the real enemy.”

Cal lowered his fists slightly as Lance’s words sank in, and his anger deflated. “Shit.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have left her. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I didn’t see the harm in her turning back toward the house. She hadn’t made it very far before she got a cramp.” Lance rolled his shoulder as he straightened himself out. “I screwed up, okay? But she’s not hurt, and she can’t be too scared if she’s willing to go out there and search for whatever spooked her.”

Cal lowered his fists completely, releasing his anger along with the movement. “Yeah, I guess.”

Lance slapped his palms together, rubbing them vigorously. “Okay. So, let’s get a hunting party together and go find the motherf*cker stalking our woods.”

Cal nodded and he headed toward the weapons cabinet. “Go get Ken, James and Phenton. I’ll get the weapons together.”

Lance nodded then left without another word. Cal busied himself with the task at hand, his mind shuffling the conflicting emotions he felt. Fear for Morgan, anger at her stubbornness, confusion at her sudden need to be involved. He would never claim to understand women, but this one was surely going to drive him mad.





Chapter Seventeen





Attacked


There was something about a man wearing a hoodie—with the hood up—that got me all hot and bothered, even if that man was a stubborn jackass. I watched from my bedroom window as Cal and his team of Hunters entered the woods, right around the place I had heard my name called.

I’d decided to bypass the chatty Candy and the mouthwatering smell coming from the dining room and instead snagged an apple from the kitchen on my way to my room. The low rumble of several men laughing while Candy yammered on about something made me think that I’d be peppered with questions if I stepped foot in the dining room and I wasn’t in the mood to chat. I didn’t think I could keep my promise to Lance not to tell Candy what was going on. I was strung too tightly for that.

As much as Cal pissed me off with his macho-man attitude, I did like that he’d been ready to kick Lance’s ass. I liked feeling his concern, his fear rolling off him while he was tending to me. But at the same time, there was something else eating at me. I was tired of just sitting around. Some part of my old self was truly rising, demanding that I take action. Maybe I was a Huntress after all—maybe there was something genetically marking me, demanding that I act like the hero instead of the damsel.

Watching Cal and the group head out without me had me pissed off. I wanted to be part of the action. Even worse, I knew that Cal would never agree to let me run outside again after today and I didn’t like feeling like a caged animal.

You’re not a Huntress yet. I let out a frustrated sigh as Cal’s words rolled through my mind. I finished off my apple and threw the core into the garbage.

Maybe I should bond with him, get that strength and power, and then he’ll stop thinking he can tell me what I can or can’t do.

Or maybe he just said that to piss you off enough to change your mind.

Cal and the men disappeared from sight and I turned in disgust from the window. “Great,” I muttered. “Now I’m stuck here all day.”

The weight of defeat came crushing down on me. I grabbed the remote control off the bedside table and slumped down onto the bed. I wasn’t in the mood to socialize. If I was stuck inside all day I might as well make it a total washout and indulge in some mindless movie watching.

Moments after flicking on the TV, my phone buzzed to life and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Shit. I scrambled to pick it up. “Hello.”

“Mor…I…need…Morgan?”

I stood from the bed and quickly moved to the window. The static was so bad on the line that I couldn’t even make out who it was. “Hello?”

“Mor…please…help…Mor—”

My heart leapt and I raced out of the room, all the while chanting hello into the phone, hoping I would get a clear signal as I neared the back of the house. As I broke free of the back doors and walked a few steps into the yard, the line cleared.

“Morgan, I need your help.”

“Jimmy?” I whispered, my disbelief nearly knocking me to the ground.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“I-I-I watched you die,” I stammered.

“I’m not dead.”

Fear prickled at my skin, running down the length of me and leaving goose bumps in its wake. Something was very wrong. “Are you okay?”

A cool laugh echoed over the line. “Okay? Well, that’s a matter of perspective.”

Definitely very wrong. I turned in the direction that Cal and the guys had gone, then spun again toward the house. I needed someone’s help—I needed someone else to talk to Jimmy.

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