Page 4 of The Witch's Werewolf
And I need to run. Always the first night of the shift, the demand to run and stretch my legs outweighs everything else.
A woman’s blood-curdling scream makes me turn with a snarl.
Her face brings me back to reality.
Cherry stands frozen, her chest heaving in fright. Her mascara is smeared with tears, and her perfect lips are parted.
If I could speak, I’d tell her to stay calm. Don’t run, and don’t make any quick movements. Back away slowly and go to your car, I want to tell her.
But when her eyes dart past my shoulders and I follow her gaze, I see the problem. I’m crouched over her unconscious date, and her key fob is on my other side.
I’d never hurt her, though my hunger is roaring in my ears. All she sees is the blood dripping down my chin.
I carefully extend one long, fur-covered hand, intending to bat her keys toward her.
At impressive speed, she kicks off her heels and sprints full bore down the street, running between the buildings along Main.
An unfortunate choice. My canine instinct kicks in, and I give chase.
I bound down the alley and through the empty courtyard, following closely behind Cherry. I’m not as graceful as she is. Cherry is light on her feet, while I smash through tables and chairs. My prey clambers up the retaining wall into a stand of trees.
I am right behind her. But not too close.
This is all kinds of wrong, but I’m having too much fun for it to end.
I ignore the screams of other people coming from the street. They’ll have to deal with Toby, and frankly, I don’t care if they find him dead or alive. Most likely, he’ll be fine. Maybe, if I were in my human form, I could muster an ounce of compassion.
But not the wolf. The wolf doesn’t care.
The wolf is solely focused on the chase.
Cherry, the woman who is driving me more insane with every stumble through the bushes, every yelp of pain as she scratches her feet on roots and rocks and sticks, is my focus tonight.
The stand of landscaped trees leads to a trailhead in the woods, and she heads that way.
I know this path, and I know exactly where she’s going.
But if this little witch makes it all the way to Colony Hill, amongst an exceptionally powerful group of witches, I’m a dead werewolf. I can’t let her get that far.
Once we’re under the cloak of dense woods, I stop playing cat and mouse with her and run at full speed.
Cherry is tiring herself out as the trail leads to an incline about a tenth of a mile into the woods. She makes the wrong choice and veers off the main trail, taking a beaten path up a sharper side hill, into the far denser bush.
Without much more chasing, I’m on top of her.
She’s terrified and trembling underneath me. Her hair is mostly out of the bun she wears. Her makeup stains her face, and she’s hyperventilating.
I can’t decide whether to bite, or worse.
Chapter
Two
Cherry
I knewI shouldn’t have gone out tonight.
I should have picked up my favorite takeout and sat down to crochet in front of the TV, like I always do after my Friday shift at the candle store.
