Page 14 of Way of the Wolf

“Those aren’t werewolves,” Duncan said.

“Just normal glowy-eyed pups, huh?”

“They’re being magically controlled.”

“Are you hypothesizing that because of logic? Or can you tell with your senses?”

Two more sets of eyes appeared. The odds of us surviving if the animals attacked were looking poorer and poorer. I glanced atDuncan’s van, wondering if we could sprint to it and get inside for protection. Unfortunately, to reach it, we would have to runthroughthe growing pack.

Duncan slanted another sidelong look at me. “Youcan’ttell?”

I opened my mouth but didn’t know what to say. The last thing I wanted was to explain that I voluntarily dulled my werewolf senses.

The lead animal snarled. That sounded lupine, not canine.

The fog stirred, and the wolf charged toward the dock. No, towardme.Not glancing at Duncan, its focus—its target—was unmistakable.

“Shit.” I lunged and grabbed the tire iron, the heavy rod wet and slick with grime.

Duncan stepped away from me so he could twirl the heavy magnet on the rope. Claws clattered on the wooden dock as the wolf ran onto it. As I hefted the tire iron over my shoulder, Duncan sent the magnet flying. It sailed toward the wolf, straight at its glowing red eyes.

Despite its focus on me, the animal saw the attack coming and sprang to the side. But Duncan’s throw had been fast and hard, and the magnet clipped the possessed wolf in the shoulder. It faltered and stumbled toward the railing.

Unfortunately, the rest of the pack was on the move now, charging up the dock toward me. A whisper of the supernatural crept up my spine again. Icouldfeel the magical influence in the air, some tendril of power compelling the creatures to attack.

As they drew closer, big furry bodies emerging from the fog, I could tell they weren’t all wolves. Some were large mutts, maybe stray dogs gathered from the area. That didn’t keep them from snarling and slavering like rabid animals, ready to tear me apart.

Heart hammering in my chest, I braced myself with the tire iron.

Duncan roared and sprang in front of me, sounding more likea wolf than a man. He blurred as he moved, kicking one animal in the jaw as he spun to grab another.

One wolf darted around him to reach me. I swung the tire iron, those glowing eyes promising me this creature wouldn’t be deterred by anything less than a stunning blow.

The heavy rod connected with a thud, opening a gash under the wolf’s ear, but the animal’s momentum carried it toward me.

I sprang back, the slick metal rod almost escaping my grip, but I clenched down. Another animal made it past Duncan, so I dared not lose my only weapon. When I’d had the power to turn into a wolf, I’dbeena weapon, but I couldn’t do that anymore. Or so I assumed. As the scent of blood reached my nose, a flood of memories and magic flowed through me. Dormant instincts flared, and I could feel the wolf inside, scattered and hesitant after so long, but present.

As the new threat rushed me, I almost called to the magic, tempted by it. As a powerful wolf, I could quash these meager enemies. I could?—

Duncan snarled and hurled one of the mutts over the railing, its snapping jaws nearly catching his ear as he heaved it away. It splashed into the water, and cold spray spattered my cheek, startling me. The wolf magic within me retreated.

More snapping jaws angled toward me, one of the red-eyed creatures that had made it past Duncan. It had hesitated—sensing that I might change?—but now it sprang.

I had only the tire iron with which to defend myself, but it worked. I caught the animal in the jaw, knocking its head aside. Glad I retained some of my heritage’s strength and speed, I swung again. The tire iron took my attacker in the top of the skull.

The powerful blows should have felled the mongrel, but, driven by magic, it leaped at me again. I scurried back, adrenaline giving me speed. I should have escaped its sharp fangs, but my hip bumped into the railing, and one of the animal’s canine teethgouged my arm. I yelped in fury and pain and swung the tire iron again, knocking my assailant back.

Meanwhile, the pack leader that Duncan had hit returned to the fray, charging straight at me. I clubbed the closer animal again, trying to knock it into the water. The leader sprang toward me before I could turn to defend against it. Duncan whirled and lunged, catching the big wolf by the torso. As if it were a shih tzu instead of a hundred-and-fifty-pound deadly animal, he hefted it and hurled it over the railing.

With that enemy gone, I focused on the mongrel attacking me. Again swinging the tire iron, I managed to knock it off the dock. The canine landed with a splash shortly after the leader tumbled in.

Arm burning in pain, I gritted my teeth and hefted the tire iron in anticipation of another attack.

But we had—mostlyDuncanhad—cleared the dock. He spun toward me, his eyes savage, and his fingers curled, like claws ready to rake.

I tensed, recognizing the animalistic gleam in his eyes, the promise that he was close to turning into a werewolf. Even when the moon wasn’t full, passion, fury, or the heat of battle could bring out the wolf. I knew all about that.

But Duncan seemed to recognize that I wasn’t a threat. After a tense moment, he lowered his arms. He shook his head, his wavy hair flopping about his jaw, and tamped down the wolf within. The next time he met my eyes, he was smiling, the savageness gone.

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