Page 5 of Gone Hunting

This is hungry.

Dangerous.

Weird.

My body quivers with growing excitement and my thunderous growls echo. I snap my jaws in challenge, letting my prey know I sense him.

It’s time to flee or fight. The choice is his. I’m not going anywhere.

The brush shifts. Slowly, very slowly, my prey rises. My lips peel back, yet the next growl dissipates before it can fully form.

Instead of fur, wet, wavy brown hair with streaks of gold catch the faint sunlight, spilling over slender shoulders and flawless olive skin, while droplets of river water trickle around large green eyes and full pink lips.

I stop breathing.

She’s young.

My age.

And she’s naked.

Chapter Two

“Don’t move,” she hisses. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her voice is husky and lower than I would expect from a young female. It hooks my wolf and draws me closer. I pant, my tongue lolling over my sharp fangs before I realize it. I suck it back in, hoping she didn’t notice.

That familiar sweep of magic that comes with achangefeathers down my spine, dissolving my wolf form and tucking him back within my soul. I rise slowly from a crouch, my focus never leaving her.

Her eyes widen to frisbees and . . . she dives into the bushes.

“Oh, my God,” she squeaks.

I frown. “What’s wrong?”

“You’renaked!”

“So are you,” I point out, wondering what the problem is.

“I’m—put some clothes on!”

“What?” I ask, sure I misheard.

“I told you to put some clothes on.”

I glance around and motion behind me like a dumbass. “My pack is up there.”

“There’re more of you? Naked more of yous?”

Wow. She’s really hung up on this whole naked thing. “I brought my friends,” I explain slowly. “They’re like my own pack. But I meant my backpack. That’s where my clothes are. Up there. Near them. Where we left them, I mean.”

I don’t normally sound this stupid. I also don’t normally meet females in the bushes. The females I meet tend to flirt and want to touch me, not shrink away like this one. I lean closer when she crouches lower and tries to cover herself with leaves. “Is something wrong?”

“You’re a werewolf,” she says.

She’s not really asking. But it’s also like she’s not sure. “Yeah,” I say.

“I’ve heard of you,” she says.

---