Page 9 of Howling
It cemented our friendship.
He showed me a website on the deep web where ads are posted—missing persons, odd deliveries where you don’t open the package or ask questions, murder for hire, pleas from abused women on message boards, begging for help.
Each assignment sent me zigzagging across the country. Connor—the witch I rescued—vetted the jobs for me…for a fee, of course. I don’t mind paying him a cut, not when he searches the jobs and collects the money.
He sends me my share through an untraceable phone.
While I’m not rich, I do live comfortably. I’m used to going without much, so even the smallest luxuries feel like a blessing. After meeting the first few clients to verify the jobs were legit and they truly needed help, I happily handed the mess over to Connor.
People suck, and many of the “victims” are raging assholes seeking revenge.
I refuse to be used by shady people who can’t fight their own battles.
It’s one of the reasons why I left Kyperian.
Even with Connor helping, some shitty jobs still slip through. Thankfully, my wolf is able to sniff out lies, and I trust my instincts. I’ve gradually learned how to weed out the assholes. The erratic jobs keep me on the move, with no destination in mind. A time or two, I felt hunters closing in on my location, swear I could almost feel them, like someone stepping over my grave.
And every time, I didn’t hesitate to pick up and leave.
That’s how I ended up here—I drove across two states without sleep, trying to stay a step ahead of the ghosts haunting me.
I march toward the porch, cutting off those thoughts.
I’m safe.
I would know otherwise.
I jog up the stairs, blinking in surprise when the fox flashes me a bright smile, true joy lighting up his expression. It’s been such a long time since anyone glanced at me with such affection that my throat tightens.
“I hope you’re hungry!” He unlocks the door, and I don’t miss the way he grimaces in pain.
“But first, we’ll look over your injuries,” I say, trailing after him as he steps over the threshold. The house is big and old, the building just shy of falling down around us. “I…uh…like what you did with the place?”
Foxy snorts, then winces, his smile lopsided when he glances at me from the corner of his eye. “The alpha assigned this rental to us, hoping we would refuse to stay.”
I follow him through the foyer, peering inside each room as we pass. Everything is neat, but worn and threadbare. The kitchen sits at the back of the house. Before he can open the fridge, I push him into the closest chair. Though he grunts,he doesn’t protest my manhandling. I rub my fingers together, disturbed at the way they tingle from a simple touch.
Avoiding his gaze, I drop my bag onto the floor with a thump, then glance around the room. “Where is your first-aid kit?”
“It’s not a big deal,” he protests, wincing as he shifts to sit more comfortably. “I’ll heal in a day or two.”
Something about the defeated tone of his voice has my wolf whining. Ignoring him, I head toward the sink and bend to look underneath, rummaging around their meager cleaning supplies. In the back, I find what I wanted and haul out a box full of supplies.
It appears to be a random collection of odds and ends, and my frown deepens at the thought of not being able to help the fox.
“Shirt off,” I say distractedly, not even raising my head as I issue my order. I set the box on the counter and dig through the meager offerings, taking stock of what’s on hand. It’s mostly suture needles, thread, some gauze, a stack of bandages, and tape.
A lot of different types of tape.
Since shifters heal fast and many are resistant to most diseases, they don’t need aspirin, iodine, bandages, or antibiotics. I quickly learned shifters in this realm are not friendly with witches, the lack of healing potions in the box just proving my point, and I don’t bother to ask if they have access to a healer.
The two are more likely to kill each other than help one another.
Some things never change, no matter where you go.
When I glance up, I stop dead, and my eyes widen when I catch sight of Foxy stripped to the waist. His back is to me, his skin so white that it looks like a granite sculpture, and I’m hypnotized by the flex of his muscles as he stretches the kinksout of his spine. For someone so slim, he shouldn’t have so many muscles, and I barely hold back my wolf when she insists that I lean forward to lick him.
Fear snaps me out of whatever hold he has over me.
