Midnight Wolf (Shifters Unbound #11)(7)

She put her head down and pumped her arms and legs, faster, faster. She’d rest when she was safe.

She’d parked her motorcycle around the next bend, close enough to the plantation house to reach quickly in case she needed to get away, far enough for it to not be found and associated with her. Tamsin’s breath hitched in her side, but she kept going.

There was her bike, tucked into the shadows near a gas station, closed now for the night. Two vehicles sat in the parking lot, a rusting SUV that had been there when she’d arrived, and a station wagon from years gone by.

Tamsin gave both cars a passing glance, saw that no one sat in or near them, and raced past them to her motorcycle.

With a rush of wind and hot fur, the wolf landed on Tamsin and sent her sprawling.

She struggled to regain her feet, but the Lupine rolled her onto her back and pinned her with one great paw. Tamsin fought and kicked, desperation giving her strength.

The wolf was strong. His fur was completely black, a cloud of darkness under the one light by the gas station. His eyes were gray and filled with as much fury as determination. The look told her he wouldn’t give up until she was completely under his control.

Tamsin continued to struggle, though she was tired from all the running and the fight with the human men. Her advantage though was that Wolfie was Collared. The more violent he became, the more his Collar would hurt him.

There—the Collar burst into sparks, a blue arc racing around the wolf-man’s neck. He snarled and shook, but he didn’t let Tamsin go. Gritted his teeth, took the pain.

Shit, the Bureau must truly have him under their thumb. They’d known the only way to catch Tamsin was to send out someone more afraid of them than she was. Goddess, she hated those people.

The wolf was on top of her, his weight pressing her into the damp ground, rocks beneath her jabbing into her back. His claws, very large, held her shoulders, though he didn’t dig in. What a sweetie.

His face came close to hers, his eyes red-tinted with anger, his very white teeth big and too near. Sparks from his Collar rained onto Tamsin’s skin, stinging and biting.

“Nice wolfie.” She squirmed, but he held her fast. “Let’s talk about this.”

The wolf shuddered, then shivered, and with a growl and a groan, morphed into a large, hard-muscled, very naked, black-haired man.

The eyes remained the same—wolf gray, focused intently on her,

“Nothing to talk about.” His voice was guttural, the wolf still strong in him. “I’m bringing you in.”

“The hell you are!” Tamsin jabbed her knee straight at his bare groin.

Wolf-man deflected the blow with the ease of a professional and grabbed Tamsin’s wrists in a hard grip. “Quit or I’ll tranq you.”

Tamsin ceased struggling, but not because she surrendered. “Shifter Bureau scum.”

“I do not work for fucking Shifter Bureau.” Pure rage flashed in the man’s eyes, making her believe him.

“Then why are you hunting me?”

He didn’t answer. The man was strong, athletic, and would be good-looking if he wasn’t covered with mud and glaring like a fiend.

Next tactic. Tamsin let her eyes go wide and her lower lip tremble. “Please. You can’t take me to them. You can’t.”

She saw the plea reach him, saw the anger deepen. Not at her—at Shifter Bureau for making him do this.

Whatever they’d threatened him with must be worse than whatever he thought they’d do to her, because his eyes went hard again. “Sorry, sweetheart. Be nice, and I won’t have to chain you up.”

He was much bigger than she was, and seriously strong. He had himself and Tamsin up before she realized it, his grip like manacles on her wrists. He turned her around, his muscular body pressing into her back, and started to march her toward the vehicles in the gas station’s lot.

Only one thing to do. Tamsin held her breath . . . and shifted.

The process was smooth and quick. Not all Shifters changed with ease, but Tamsin always could. Must have something to do with small bones.

She dropped, feeling her clothes flow away from her. No ripping—she shrank down to her animal instead of grew, which gave her a slight advantage. While other Shifters waited for her to rise into some sort of giant beast, she was zipping off between their legs.

As she did now. Tamsin resisted reaching up to give the wolf-man’s bare thigh a chomp as she hurtled out from under him and raced for the woods. Her clothes fluttered in the breeze she left as she dashed under the trees, becoming one with the night.





CHAPTER THREE


Son of a bitch.

Angus swung around to see something streak into the woods, churning wet leaves in its wake.

Whatever the hell kind of animal Tamsin was, she was tricky, and fast. Some kind of cat, maybe—perhaps a serval, like his friend Reg.

Hadn’t smelled like Feline, though. Angus had no clue what she was. Fucking fantastic.

She’d left her clothes. Angus went down on one knee to look through them—tank top with spaghetti straps, bra, jeans, underwear, boots and socks, a jacket. The jeans held a wad of cash in the pockets, winnings from tonight’s game. A key with a Harley key fob, which probably went to the motorcycle parked out of sight, but not out of scent range. Another key looked like it went to a room in a small motel—it was a real, metal key, not a key card. No label to say which motel though.