Page 18 of Cats and Dogs

Chapter 8

The Stranger

Hunter's wolf was a simple beast. Easier to manage than most animals of his dominance level. His brother struggled with his beast; each change back to his human shell was a battle because the animal wanted to remain in control.

Hunter's was a lot more chill, all things considered. The wolf understood they had to share that body; each of them got a fair turn. Hunter let him out when the wolf wanted to run, and, in exchange, the wolf retreated when the human wanted his go. Hunter made a habit of often sleeping in his wolf form, too; the wolf liked that. They lived in peaceful symbiosis.

Not today.

They looked at the girl first. Lola, they'd called her. It sounded sweet, adorable, and it suited the little girl to a tee. She already ran on her wobbly legs, and she spoke easily, although sometimes there was adorable nonsense coming out of her little mouth.

It was obvious that she was loved, protected, and well taken care of. Gwen would have been glad. Hunter should have felt relieved and confident in his decision to leave her with the pride. Instead, he found himself remaining longer than he ought to when he was hidden, a sort of sadness and longing anchoring his paws.

And then, he'd seen her.

He knew a lot about the Wyvern Pride. Most groups of shifters had websites, social media, and other things. The Vergas Pack kept theirs very basic, but the Wyvern had been smart about it. A lot of regular humans found shifters fascinating and spent time researching whatever they could about them. The Wyverns had cashed in on that, selling calendars of their males, writing blogs, and setting up social media accounts for each member. They didn't hide what they were at all, making it clear that they were dangerous and disliked strangers, so no one actually bothered them in their territories. Still, thousands of people followed them online.

Hunter guessed that being in everyone's face that way really helped a small pride with fewer than two dozen members; other groups had probably offered them alliances, just to boast about an alliance with famous shifters. And their enemies had to seriously think whether they wanted to risk becoming public enemies.

That didn't protect them from the Vergas, or the wrath of the Shifter Council, but, against smaller threats, their popularity was a nice shield.

Their online info didn't say anything about the kids, but Hunter had taken his time to get to know the adults who took care of his niece. Rye wasn't one to be fucked with. Even in his human form, the Alpha radiated power. Having met him face to face, Hunter knew it wasn't just posing. He was one of the few shifters out there who could stare right into his father's gaze without being fazed. Hunter had liked that a lot.

He hadn't paid much attention to her, before. He knew her name, and he remembered thinking she was pretty enough when he'd seen a picture.

He'd been wrong. Christine Taylor wasn't “pretty enough”, she was an absolute knockout. Surrounded by athletic, kick-ass dominant females who went toe-to-toe against males, she was unapologetically feminine. Her hourglass figure was accentuated by the apron she wore around her waist. Christine was in jeans and a t-shirt, but somehow gave a pin-up vibe, with her glossy, long red hair and her smile.

Her scent hit him hard. Sweetness, pancakes, and vanilla, coupled with a hint of home. He couldn't even describe it, but it was positively mouth-watering.

His wolf was protective, lethal, and territorial. He'd felt off since they'd left the pack, and on edge when they'd entered the Wyvern's territory. Now, he tilted his head and waggled his tail like he was safe and untroubled. He just wanted to play.

Hunter nudged him again, asking him to retreat, but the beast pushed away the compulsion, irritable. When he changed tactics, wanting to take over the rule of their body, the animal bared his teeth, downright pissed now.

That wasn't like him at all.

It took him a while, but after the female and the kid disappeared from view, the wolf finally consented to move away. He let him shift back close to their hotel on the other side of the lake.

As he approached the hotel, he stiffened and his wolf stood to attention, growling low.

"Mr. Wolf?" Yeah, he hadn't bothered being creative about his alias. He blamed it on the lack of sleep.

"Yeah?"

"Your friend said to tell you he took your son to the gardens."

His friend. Hunter's eyes flashed with something that made the receptionist blink and involuntarily take a step back.

It had been a long time since he’d had a friend.

Hunter approached the garden warily, his nose recognizing the scent of the stranger, who was definitely no friend of his.

When he got there, Mike was playing football with a tall, dark guy with some Latin roots; Italian, he'd volunteered on his profile. Self-proclaimed know-it-all, good in the kitchen, decent behind a computer. Ian Summers, enforcer of the Wyvern Pride.

Seeing him come in, the guy waved. "Hey there. Hunter, right? Fancy joining us? Your boy here's pretty good with his feet."

Hunter's voice was slow and purposeful.

"You really don't want to go there, Summers."

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