Page 36 of Wedding for My Werewolf

She turned down a narrow side street as her vision blurred, desperate to be out of sight as the first tear fell. She wiped furiously at her eyes. How stupid she’d been to think she could build something here, with Eric. To imagine she could?—

A shadow moved out of the alley ahead. Her head snapped up, but too late.

Rick Thatcher blocked her path, his leather jacket creaking as he crossed his arms.

Those dead eyes locked onto her face. The same eyes that had haunted her nightmares for months. His thin lips curved into that familiar smirk that made her skin crawl.

“Well, well. Been a while, Miss Halloway.” His voice carried the same oily smoothness she remembered. “You led me on quite the chase.”

The need to run surged through her, but fear rooted her feet to the ground.

“Did you really think you could hide forever?” His smile terrified her more than any of the so-called monsters in Fairhaven Falls. “In this backwater town of freaks?”

“I-I’m not going anywhere with you,” she whispered.

“Yes you are. We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way. Your choice, doll.”

He moved closer, the alley’s shadows darkening his face, and her muscles finally unlocked. She spun and took off down the street, narrowly avoiding the icy patches that were scattered across the ground.

“Stop her!” he yelled, as she burst out onto Main Street.

She knocked into a cart of apples, sending them rolling across the street, but she couldn’t stop to apologize. Her lungs burned as she pushed harder, faster. Past the thrift shop, past the bookshop, weaving through the morning crowd.

His footsteps pounded behind her, hard and determined, and the sound drove spikes of terror through her chest. The last time he’d been this close, she’d barely escaped. The bruises from his grip had taken weeks to fade.

She ducked down another side street, her shoulder scraping the rough brick wall. She needed Eric, needed Garrick, needed anyone who could?—

She slammed into something solid. Strong hands steadied her before she could fall. Her head snapped up to find familiar golden eyes, now dark with concern.

“Little bird? What’s—” His words cut off as he scanned her face. His nostrils flared, catching her fear-scent.

“Please,” she gasped, fingers clutching his shirt. “He’s?—”

His entire body suddenly went rigid, a deep growl building in his chest. He placed himself in front of her, his broad shoulders forming a protective wall as Rick burst into view.

Rick’s footsteps slowed, but the growl in Eric’s throat grew louder, more menacing. She felt the vibration of it where her hands still gripped his shirt, and she pressed closer to his back, praying that he wouldn’t believe anything Rick said.

CHAPTER 14

Eric had been oddly restless ever since he’d left Robin at Garrick’s place, and he found himself pacing his office for the third time that day, unable to settle. His wolf clawed beneath his skin, demanding action. At first, he’d dismissed it as the normal protectiveness towards his mate, but this felt different. Sharper. More urgent. The scent of trouble hung in the air like smoke before a forest fire.

He paused at the window, looking out over the town square. Nothing seemed out of place. A small group of human tourists taking pictures of the minotaur statue in the center—the present mayor’s great grandfather. A couple of little pixie girls playing chase with two much larger orc boys, giggling happily. Mrs. Thomas sweeping her storefront. The usual foot traffic along Main Street. Yet his hackles refused to settle.

“Damn it,” he growled, and grabbed his jacket off the hook.

Even if he were being foolish, he’d feel better if he saw her.

His phone buzzed. A text from Deputy Mills about a routine noise complaint. His fingers hovered over the keys, but his wolf’sagitation spiked again. The message could wait. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones, in the way his wolf paced circles in his mind.

Icy mountain air hit his face as he stepped outside, carrying fragments of conversation and the lingering scent of fresh bread from the bakery. Normal sounds and scents, but underneath it all, the feeling that there was something wrong.

He couldn’t pinpoint that wrongness but his wolf urged him up Main Street, closer to whatever had triggered his instincts. People called out the usual greetings, but he just lifted a hand and kept going, his senses on high alert.

There.The wind shifted, carrying Robin’s scent, the usual sweetness overlaid with the acrid tang of fear. He moved faster, rounding the corner of Mason Street just as small, warm body slammed into him. He steadied her, quickly checking for injuries, but she appeared unharmed.

“Little bird? What’s?—”

“Please,” she gasped, fingers clutching his shirt. “He’s?—”

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