Page 3 of BeWolfed

"You growled at me!" I tried to maintain my fury, clutching the book tighter as if it could shield me from the bewildering reaction he triggered. My magic pulsed in response to his proximity, the familiar unpredictability shifting to something new—a resonance that both thrilled and terrified me.

"I was investigating," he said, taking a step closer. His movement was pure predator, graceful and deliberate. "You're the one sneaking in here at night."

"With a key! Because it's my aunt's store," I repeated, backing up until I hit a bookshelf. "Wait—investigating what? Do you know something about Rose's disappearance?"

His gaze shifted to the side—before his expression hardened. He took another step closer, his presence overwhelming in the confined space. A woodsy, earthy scent enveloped me, sending my magic into a disorienting hum that made the nearest books tremble on their shelves.

"Leave, little witch. This isn't your problem." His voice deepened to a growl that seemed to resonate directly with something primitive in my core.

I glared back at all six feet of tall, dark, and handsome. "Like hell it's not."

The books on the shelves around us quivered, responding to the tension crackling between us. Several romance novels actually sighed, their pages ruffling as if caught in a breeze. I'd been back in Midnight Creek for less than an hour, and already I was facing off with an arrogant alpha wolf in my aunt's destroyed bookstore, while my magic behaved as unpredictably as ever.

But this time, the unpredictability felt different. Instead of misfiring or surging out of control, my power seemed to be reaching for his, creating a circuit I didn't understand.

Rudy

The witch refused to be intimidated—I had to give her that.

Most people cowered when confronted by a wolf my size. This one? She'd threatened me with a book on medieval medicine. Now she stormed around her aunt's shop like I was the intruder, picking up fallen volumes and returning them to shelves with movements that couldn't quite hide the tremor in her hands.

And damned if I didn't find myself following her.

"Stop hovering," she muttered, crouching to gather fallen books. Her scent drifted toward me—lavender and old paper mixed with something electric that made my wolf pace restlessly beneath my skin. "If you're not going to help clean up, you can leave."

I should leave. I had leads to follow, evidence to track. The witch disappearances formed a pattern that stretched beyond Midnight Creek, and time was running short. But something held me here, watching her slender fingers trace the spines ofdamaged books with such care, her dark hair falling forward to shield her face. Something beyond the investigation.

"Who exactly are you?" I asked, ignoring her dismissal. "This is Rose's store."

She paused, a leather-bound grimoire held protectively against her chest. When she turned, those intelligent eyes examined me through her glasses, assessing and unimpressed.

"I told you, I'm her niece, Elowen," she said, as if explaining something to a particularly slow child. "Besides, you still haven't explained who you are and why you’re here."

I bit back a snarl at her tone, watching as she returned the grimoire to its shelf with practiced precision. Her movements were efficient, professional—but I could smell the worry beneath her composed exterior.

The truth was tangled up with my old pack, with blood magic corruption I'd been tracking for years – with my father's murder and my solitary mission since. Sharing that with a witch I'd just met wasn't my style. But those sky blue eyes behind her glasses held steady, demanding answers I wasn't ready to give.

"Rudy Kane," I finally offered, my name a reluctant concession. "I'm a private investigator. Supernatural cases." I reached for a fallen book, its binding cracked. "Rose's disappearance fits a pattern I've been tracking."

"What pattern?" The professional demeanor cracked slightly, hope and suspicion warring in her expression. "Do you know what happened to her?"

I didn't answer immediately. The truth was that Rose had practically engineered my arrival in Midnight Creek, leaving breadcrumb trails of evidence that led straight to her store. She'd offered the apartment at a suspiciously low rent, asking pointed questions about my investigation. The witch had been mapping blood magic corruption long before I arrived.

Instead, I lifted the grimoire Elowen had been reaching for, noting traces of foreign magic on its spine—tainted and wrong. "Someone went through these systematically. See this discoloration? Blood magic residue."

Her eyes narrowed as she examined the book. "Blood magic? Here in Midnight Creek?"

"It's been spreading." I kept my voice neutral despite the old rage rising. "Three witches disappeared from Shadow Valley last month. Similar traces were left behind."

"And you think that's connected to Rose?" She crossed her arms, studying me with sharp focus. "Why are you investigating witch disappearances?"

Because I'd seen what blood magic did to my father's pack. Because Rose had been close to exposing the corruption I'd tracked for years.

"It's my job." I glanced at the darkening windows. A pack enforcer passed by, watching too closely. "Look, this isn't the best place to discuss details. The Silver Flask has private booths with old protection spells. We can talk more there."

She hesitated, looking around at the mess of books and papers. "I need to secure the store first. Rose would never forgive me if anything happened to her collection."

I nodded. "I'll help. Faster with two."

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