The Better to Bite (Howl #1)(35)

The familiar grind of an engine reached my ears, and I almost sagged in relief. Seconds later, the four-wheeler burst from the woods. “Dad!”

He leapt from the four-wheeler and jumped in front of me. “I damn well know you are not pointing your weapons at my daughter.”

Another four wheeler burst onto the scene, its bright lights bobbing. Deputy Jon’s radio crackled as he called for backup.

My dad’s weapon was out, and I knew he had it aimed right at Mark Hamilton. “Drop your guns—now.” His lethal order.

“I-I…the wolf—”

“Drop them or I’ll be the one who starts shooting.” My dad’s voice was flat and cold, and I shivered.

The rifles hit the ground.

“Now pull those dogs back. Tell them to heel.” Because the dogs were jerking against their leashes as they fought to get at my house.

No, to get at Rafe.

Sharp orders from their handlers had the dogs whining, but easing back.

“Anna, go back into the house.”

With Rafe.

“I’m taking these men into the station.”

Yes. Problem number one was solved.

“What?” Sissy’s dad again. Now he sounded all shocked. What had the guy expected to happen?

“Mark,” my dad said, “don’t you even know when you crossed the line? You could have killed someone tonight.”

I heard Mark sob then. I’d never heard a man cry before. “Sissy,” he said her name like it was a prayer. The dogs whined. “I just want my baby home.”

There was so much pain in his voice. I swallowed and glanced up at the moon. Not quite full, not yet.

“Go to the house,” my dad told me, his voice softer, and his fingers brushed over my arm. “Lock the door. Stay inside until it’s secure here.”

Secure. Right. Because more backup would be there soon.

The fury that had drove the men to hunt for Sissy’s killer had faded until only grief remained.

I turned carefully, still concealing my gun, and headed back for the house. I didn’t run. Didn’t look fearfully back.

Just headed for Rafe.

I slipped inside the house. Bolted the door. Then looked down at him.

Rafe had propped himself up against the wall just under the bay window. His claws were still gone and his face—well, he looked like Rafe again. Sweat had slickened his hair, and he’d yanked a couch cushion down to cover his—

I cleared my throat.

His gaze lifted slowly. A blue gaze now. A weak, tired blue gaze. “Are you…turning me in?” His voice rasped out. His gaze darted to my gun.

I hesitated. “Did you kill Sissy?” I had to know.

He shook his head.

I wanted to believe him.

“I promise,” he told me, voice rumbling. “Anna, I swear, I didn’t hurt her.”

His gaze held mine.

The dogs started to bark again. Those were some damn tenacious dogs. I exhaled. “We need to get you into another room. If my dad comes in…”

“I-I can’t move.”

I blinked and the ball in my gut tightened. He’d been shot in the back, and then I’d yanked him inside and—what did I do?

“Silver.” He licked his lips and closed his eyes. “One of those hunters…the guy actually knew what he was doin’.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He shot me with a silver bullet—that’s what made me lose my form.”

His form? Like the form of a wolf?

Don’t freak out now. Don’t. I knew I had to hold things together for a little while longer. Just a little bit. Until the deputies were gone and the dogs were safely away.

Maybe then I could have a breakdown.

But…silver? A werewolf? My heart raced so fast I was sure it would bust out of my chest at any moment.

Rafe’s skin had taken on an ashen color. I eased into a crouch before him.

“You have to…get the bullet out…” His breath expelled in a slow rush. “Or I won’t stop…bleeding.”

Um, no, surely the werewolf hadn’t just asked me to dig a bullet out of his back.

“If you don’t…” The click of his swallow was painful to hear. “I’ll…die…”





Chapter Nine


I gave Rafe a quilt to use as a temporary cover, and he managed to lay flat down on the floor. I heard my dad talking outside. Other voices rose and fell.

“We have got to get you out of the den.” How would I explain this if my dad walked in? A naked, bleeding boy on the floor and me on top of him.

That would not go over well at all with the sheriff.

“Get…bullet out…first.”

I didn’t want to do that. Pulling a bloody bullet out of Rafe’s back…no, thank you. “Look, I don’t even have anything sterile here. I mean, what am I supposed to use—”

“Don’t worry…I won’t catch…any infections.”

His shoulders were broad, and his words were weak. He’d turned his face toward me, and I could see the lines of pain that bracketed his mouth. “I…heal from anything…but silver.”

I put my palm on his back. His skin felt warm, and the blood pulsed from the wound. “It looks like it’s in there deep.” Not near his spine, thank goodness, but about three inches to the left.