Page 25 of Triumph of the Wolf
Still swearing, and oblivious to Duncan’s approach, Chad staggered to his feet. He gripped his nose with one hand, blood running freely down his face, and reached into his jacket with the other.
In all the years I’d known him, he hadn’t carried a weapon, so I hadn’t expected him to have one. But his fingers wrapped around the hilt of a revolver, and he drew it. He pointed it in the air rather than at me, but his eyes were locked on mine.
Not seeming to notice Duncan running toward us, he said, “Go get the case, Luna, or I’ll?—”
What he would have done, I didn’t find out. Duncan smashed into him like a cannonball. He roared, more like an animal than a man. With a start, I realized hewasan animal.
As Duncan had run, he’d turned into the bipedfuris. He not only took Chad to the ground, but he then snarled, sprang to his feet, grabbed Chad by the shoulder and the crotch, and hurled him over the first row of cars. Chad bounced off the top of the SUV’s protective bubble, the gun flying from his grip to land halfway across the parking lot, and he came down with a thud on the pavement in the lane between cars.
I rushed toward Duncan, though my instincts made me want to stay back—if he was as wild and possessed by his magic as I sometimes was, he might not recognize me as an ally. But he was about to spring after Chad, maybe finish him off. As much as I detested my ex-husband, I couldn’t allow Duncan to murder the father of my children.
I grabbed his arm, sleek salt-and-pepper fur covering the taut powerful muscles there. “Stop, Duncan. Thanks for coming, but you can’t kill him.”
A groan came from the parking lot, and I feared more than Chad’s nose was broken.
Snarling again, Duncan crouched, barely seeming to notice me.
Grip tightening, I whispered, “Duncan, please. Stop. I’m fine. I appreciate you coming to help, but I can take care of myself, okay? You know a little handgun doesn’t faze me.” I doubted Chad would have pointed it at me, not that Duncan had known that. Chad had brought the weapon in case he needed to threaten me—or maybe he’d even wondered if he might need to defend himself against me if I turned wolf? He hadn’t come to kill me. I didn’t believe that.
The bipedfuris didn’t spring away from me and toward Chad, but he seethed, radiating fury and power. In this form, Duncan stood two feet taller than me, his torso and muscled limbs larger and stronger. When his brown eyes swung toward me, they were wild and savage. Fear shot through me. It was like when I lost my rational mind to the wolf magic and couldn’t tell friend from foe, could only follow wild, magic-driven instincts to lash out. To kill. Did Duncan even recognize me?
Though it felt like reaching toward a hissing rattlesnake, I lifted my free hand to his torso.
“It’s okay,” I said in my most soothing tone and stroked his furred chest.
Duncan’s muscles quivered with tension, but he didn’t leap away. He didn’t exactlyrelaxeither, but I kept stroking him and murmuring that things were fine, that he didn’t need to do anything else. I was safe.
Another groan came from the lane between the automobiles, and Chad peeked between the SUV and a car. Blood smeared his jaw and cheek, and he gripped one of his arms. He stared at Duncan and then at me, shock mixing with the pain in his eyes.
Had he known Duncan was a werewolf? Maybe not. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have known that Duncan could turn into a bipedfuris.
Another growl emanated from Duncan’s chest as his eyes locked onto Chad. Chad who was standing there, gaping like an idiot. What, was he fascinated by the appearance of a werewolf? Or too dumb to realize how much danger he was in?
“Get out of here,” I whispered harshly to Chad.
Duncan crouched, his tail twitching, his clawed fingers curling. The longing to rip Chad to pieces, something he absolutely had the power to do, hung in the air around him.
“He’ll kill you,” I added.
Maybe that realization finally sank into Chad’s thick skull because he nodded jerkily and backed away, moving out of view behind Bolin’s SUV. A curse that was more pain than vitriol came from him, followed by the thump of a car door.
Duncan’s tail twitched again. He didn’t appear as utterly savage now, but hedidlook like he longed for a release, maybe to go on a hunt. But the direction of his eyes—pointed toward the sound of that car rather than toward the woods or the distant mountains—promised he wanted to hunt Chad, not an animal to enjoy for dinner.
The engine started, and I let out a sigh of relief as the car drove toward the exit. An unassuming brown Toyota, it had to be a rental vehicle. The passenger-side window was down, and someone unexpected gaped in our direction as Chad departed.
Cameron.
8
Stunnedat the realization that my son had been with Chad and must have seen and heard everything, I stopped stroking Duncan’s furred chest. He grunted in protest.
“Sorry.” I returned to my attempts to soothe him, but my whirling thoughts distracted me.
If I’d realized Cameron had been watching, I wouldn’t have punched Chad. Well, maybe I would have. He’d deserved it. But I had no idea how Cameron had reacted to that, especially if he hadn’t been close enough to hear the conversation. If he’d only been able to see what was happening, would he think his father had been trying to get close to me—he and his groping hand had definitely done that—and I’d spurned him for no reason?Punchedhim for no reason?
I hoped it hadn’t looked like that. It had always bothered me that Cameron had essentially stopped speaking with me, other than sending half-hearted gif replies to texts that I made sure weren’t too frequent. I’d wanted him to have his independence and not feel I was badgering him, but I missed having a relationship with him. I’d always hoped, if I gave him time and space, that he would come around.
A stirring of magic beside me pulled my attention back to Duncan. He grasped my hand, careful not to brush me with his claws, and gazed down at me.
