Page 60 of What a Wolf Demands

Idiot. That wasn’t how guns worked.

At least she didn’t think so.

She leaned over and picked it up, holding the butt between her thumb and forefinger. It was black and alien-looking—and far heavier than she’d imagined. For a second, she considered shoving it in the glove compartment where it couldn’t hurt anybody.

Except she might need to hurt somebody with it. She looked at the mansion in the distance, her heart thudding in her ears.

Come to think of it, she might want to hurt somebody with the damn thing.

Decision made, she got out and eased the door shut. Her pulse jumped, and she had to take a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. The mansion loomed ahead, its clapboard facade white against the gray sky. The scent of rain was thick in the air. If she hurried, she might make it to the house before the skies opened up.

Nothing like racing into danger to avoid drenched clothing and a bad hair day.

She started forward, then stopped and looked at the gun in her hand. It was no good walking with it out in the open. If someone saw her, the first thing they’d do is take it away, robbing her of her only defense. Even the odds. That’s what Dom had said. She was out-skilled and outnumbered. The gun was her ace in the hole, but only if she kept the element of surprise on her side.

But where to put it? Her jeans pockets were too small. Sucking in a breath, she lifted her sweater. Tucking the material under her chin, she pulled her waistband out.

Ugh, no. No way was she pointing a gun toward her vagina.

She lifted her chin, letting the sweater drop back into place.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Moving fast, she reached behind her, hiked up her sweater, and stuffed the gun down the back of her jeans. The metal was warm and hard against her spine—a constant reminder of the peril she faced.

The peril Dom faced. Could be ensnared in even now.

Lightning lit up the sky over the mansion. A few seconds later, thunder boomed.

Without another thought, she started down the road, taking care to step as quietly as possible. She stayed close to the dirt path’s ragged edge, ready to duck into the tree line at the first sign of another wolf.

But there was no one. By some miracle, she made it all the way to the mansion without so much as a bird chirping. Thunder continued to rumble as more storm clouds rolled in and the sky darkened to a forbidding black.

Good. For the first time in her life, she was glad the sun had made itself scarce. With her hair and bright sweater, she wasn’t exactly decked out for stealth.

Frogs croaked as she neared the mansion. The bayou butted right up to the plantation’s rear side—a legacy from the estate’s past as a major producer of sugar cane. In past centuries, the mansion’s owners used the bayou to move the harvest to New Orleans and the Gulf. Now, the loup-garou counted on it to keep curious humans from straying onto pack land. The alligators and other creatures guaranteed even the nosiest humans kept their distance. Where other property owners might try to stop the waters from getting too close to the house, the Alpha let the swamp grow wild.

Even so, Lily wasn’t worried about the bayou’s four-legged inhabitants. They were far less dangerous than the wolves.

Sweat trickled down her back and into the hollow of her throat as she crept around the side of the mansion.

A twig snapped.

She flattened her body against the clapboard, her heart thumping a painful drumbeat. The gun dug into her tailbone. She held herself tense, prepared for shadows to rush from the trees and rough hands to seize her.

But there was nothing.

After a second, she hunched her shoulders and dared to peek around the edge of the building. The rear lawn stretched about twenty feet. Beyond it, the bayou’s waters gleamed a shiny black. Gnarled cypress trees rose from the surface like moss-strewn wraiths.

She squinted, straining forward as she tried to pick out any movement among the shadows. What she wouldn’t give for her parents’ Seeker abilities. Their hearing had faded in their final years, but their Gifts had remained impressive. In the evenings, she’d sat on the porch with her father, laughing as he’d entertained them both by listening to passing cars and telling her the make and model based on nothing but the sound of the engine.

What would he say if he saw her now, skulking around the Alpha’s house with a handgun tucked in the back of her pants?

Abruptly, tears burned her eyes. She’d never lived up to her potential. First, she’d failed to make the Turn. Then she’d scraped through the last year of high school. College had been out of the question, considering she’d had no way to pay for it. Bartending had paid the bills, but it was hardly the respectable life her parents had raised her to strive for.

And now she was a fugitive—and possibly going feral.

Oh, and she’d spent last night having sex with a man she just met.

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