Page 18 of Enemy Wolf

I could still keep an eye on Shiloh through my tree cameras though. It was the only comforting thought as I re-watched the footage from the past few nights. Yeah, all familiar faces coming in and out. None that seemed to strike fear in her. So why had I smelled it on her when she came to the lodge, and why did she lie about that bandage on her arm?

Maybe the better question was, why did I care so much?

Oh, look. There was me storming out of the bar on the camera feed because I could smell that angel’s attraction to Shiloh and my wolf went batshit. I had to get away from everyone, especially him, in order to avoid a bloodbath.

The absolute last thing I expected was for her to follow me.

I wanted to bury myself alive while that whole thing went down. I was still open to the idea now, as a matter of fact. My wolf, on the other hand, was pleased as punch.

He strutted around underneath my skin, nose to the air with his coat fluffed out. He loved that she had bypassed me to reach him directly.

Shiloh had soothed my wolf, reassured him that he didn’t need to murder anybody. Hell, she probably saved that angel’s life. I didn’t fully understand how she did it, but witches had all kinds of tricks. Whatever she did had worked. My wolf would have eaten out of her hand if she’d had a treat.

More than anything, my animal felt victorious that she had chased after us. In his eyes, she had chosen us, not that angel who had been making his interest clear right in front of her. She reached her hand out to him and said he was beautiful, strong, and fierce.

“It’s not like that,” I tried to tell my animal half. “She didn’t choose us for shit. She just didn’t want us to cause a scene.”

But he was having none of it, spinning in circles and making happy little yips and barks. As misguided as he was, I could understand his elation. Nobody had chosen us before. Nobody wanted us, wanted me. Not when I was feral, or even before then. Not until Tryn talked me into joining Howling Death; and even now, I was sure Derric would trade me for another pack treasurer if he had the opportunity.

Pack life claimed to be all about community and taking care of your people, but I filled a role. That was it. If I wasn’t so good at what I did, I could be replaced.

Nobody chose me just because I was me.

My wolf let out a low whine, his snout drooping and his ears falling back. He hated that I was raining on our parade, that I never let us be happy.

“’Cause that’s when they get you.” I stood from my desk chair and stretched with a groan. “Just when you think everything’s going great, they pull the rug out from under you.”

Even I could recognize that I was spending too much time in front of the computer screen, thoughts spiraling around a drain, so I figured it’d be a good time for a run. All surveillance had been reviewed, financial reports run, and no one needed phones or computers repaired, so off I went.

Of course, who else but Tryn would I run into just as I was leaving?

“Hey, Orson,” he called from one of the recliners in the loft outside our rooms, as if he was waiting for me to come out.

I grunted out, “Hey,” as I hastily turned to lock my door.

“You left the bar pretty quickly last night. Everything good?”

“Peachy.” I headed for the stairs without so much as a glance at him.

“Our wolves are always right, you know,” he called out.

That gave me pause, my shoe hovering just over the middle landing. Looking up at the loft, I saw that Tryn hadn’t looked at me either. His nose was in a book.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Nothing in particular,” he quipped, turning a page. “Just saying. Trust your wolf.”

Tryn supposedly had some witch-like abilities himself, although I never put much stock in it. Others in the pack said he could see people’s fate threads and that he sometimes could see the future.

My wolf’s tail wagged at the acknowledgment, pleased that someone else believed him. I just shook my head and kept on going, crossing the open floorplan of the lodge as I headed out.

I’d left my motorcycle at the bar last night but didn’t feel inclined to retrieve it yet. I just wanted to run Shiloh, and everything that happened that night, out of my system. I ran my four paws ragged that night after my wolf had essentially claimed her as our mate, and it still wasn’t enough.

Shiloh was not for us. She was not ours, and I had to make my animal side see that.

With the full moon approaching, I’d have control over my wolf for maybe five more days at most. On that night, when the moon was as round and bright as she could be, the animal would take the wheel, and my human side had no choice but to strap in and go along for the ride.

Maybe I’d have Derric stick me in a kennel that night instead of going on the full moon run with the pack. I had no doubt exactly where my wolf would go once he was in control.

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