Page 28 of Wolf's Redemption

They followed the footprints away from the tanner’s hut, along the row to another, the scent of Ulrik and a female growing stronger. And something else, something familiar.

Godfrey snorted. “One of Ulrik’s conquests? Even in escape, he can think of mating.”

Lance sniffed the air, letting the scent roll across his tongue. “There is something strange about her scent. Something…unfamiliar. There is a foreignness to it.” He paused. “Do you remember when we first scented Erin at Gaharet’s keep?”

“Of course.”

“This reminds me of her. There is that same underlying sharpness I cannot identify.”

Godfrey turned his nose to the breeze. “You are right. And the villagers reported she had strange markings. Where are these women coming from?”

“I do not know.” He turned his attention to the forest. “But I think it is time we found out.”

“Agreed. Should we send word to the others?”

Lance returned to his horse, motioning over a villager. “Return our horses to my stable.”

“Of course, Mon Seigneur.”

The villager took the horses’ reins and led them away. Tracking Ulrik was best done on foot. If need be, they could shift and hunt him as wolves, covering great distances with ease. Ulrik, hampered by a female who, though strange, was entirely human, could not. Horses would only give away their approach. Godfrey had the right of it. For all Ulrik’s faults, he was shrewd. It was his impulsiveness, and his hot-headedness that usually got him into trouble.

Lance moved to stand beside Godfrey. “Let us not call the others in yet. We should track him in the forest. Find him. You know how the twins feel about Ulrik. Imagine if they were the ones to reach him first. They were baying for his blood the moment they learned he had killed Gaharet.”

Godfrey’s lip curled. “And Aimon will be busy with his new mate.”

Lance chuckled. “That he will. And as well as Gaharet trained him and his wolf, he is young and lacks experience. He is no match for Ulrik.”

Picking up the scent of Ulrik and the strange woman, Lance entered the forest with Godfrey close on his heels. He spared the other chevalier a glance. He had yet to unearth what was troubling him, what he was concealing.

“We still have much to discuss, Godfrey, but perhaps another time.”

Godfrey shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. We all have our secrets, Lance. Even you.” Lance’s gaze snapped to Godfrey, but the chevalier’s shuttered expression gave nothing away. “With any luck, this sorry business will all be over soon, but first we must find Ulrik.”

Lance nodded, and Godfrey strode ahead into the forest, his words ringing in Lance’s ears. What did the chevalier think he knew? What was he hiding? It was enough, as they hunted for Ulrik, that he would keep Godfrey firmly in his sight.

* * * *

The wolf slunk downwind, the scars on his body itching and his one good eye fixed on the men. Two chevaliers, two werewolves, stalking the woman and the blond wolf. Distrust lingered in the air. One of them was loyal to the pack. One of them was a traitor. On silent paws, he followed them.

Chapter Thirteen

The afternoon shadows were lengthening when Ulrik stopped in a small, sheltered clearing. Rebekah was tired and would be hungry, and from the slight limp in her step he guessed her boots chafed at least one of her heels. He could continue on much further. She could not. They had made good progress and had put a fair distance between them and the village, stopping only for a quick bite to eat as the sun had reached its zenith. He could risk stopping again for a few hours, to rest and to hunt for food.

The villagers would be certain to alert Lance to Rebekah’s presence. Lance would investigate. It would not take long before Lance would catch his scent, and he would be sure to follow it. Tomorrow, Ulrik would need to push them hard. Wading through creeks and avoiding muddy ground would throw Lothair and his keep guards off his trail. It would not fool Lance, or any other of his kind. Lance would track him through his scent. The cooler nights of autumn, and the heavy dew of the morning would only aid Lance, not them. What Ulrik needed was a rainstorm. He could only hope the fates, and the weather, were on his side.

He dropped the sack to the ground and rummaged through it. “We will stop here for a few hours,” he told her, grasping what he sought.

He needed to go hunt. That was best done in his other form, and he could not risk her following him. Nor did he completely trust her to be here when he returned. Her sudden change of heart, her acceptance that he was her best chance, perplexedhim. It could all be for pretense. Was she waiting till he dropped his guard? Again. It would not be altogether unexpected. She had proved herself a wily one.

“Oh, thank God.” She slumped against a tree. “I swear you’re like the Energizer Bunny. You just keep going and going and going. News flash. One of us is a mere mortal, not a supremely fit chevalier. And in case you didn’t get the memo, that mere mortal is me.”

Ulrik chuckled.If only she knew.He moved behind the tree, uncoiling the rope as he went.

“I am sorry, Rebekah.”

“It’s all right. Maybe remember it for tomorrow. That’s if I can even move— Hey! What thefuck!What are you doing?” She tried to get to her feet, but he had already looped the rope around the tree and her. “Ulrik!”

He ignored her, circling the tree twice more before pulling the rope tight, but not too tight, and knotting it behind the tree beyond her reach.

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