Chapter Eight

The Big Bad Wolf/Bounty Hunter Smackdown

“It’s a werewolf!”

It took Lyla a second to realize the shriek had come from her. She sounded less like an excited parent-to-be at a backyard gender reveal party and more like a Tokyo resident screaming, “ It’s Godzilla!”

It wasn’t a prehistoric titan that stepped out of the woods toward her, but the sight of the creature was just as petrifying. The closer it came, the more she realized just how huge it was. On all fours, the wolf was nearly as tall as she was. Its fur bristled in the moonlight, its jaws open wide. Those gleaming eyes remained locked on Lyla, leaving no doubt as to who its target was.

The hunter had become the prey.

The wolf let out a snarl and stepped even closer.

Run! screamed a voice in her head.

Despite the terror building up within her, she retained enough presence of mind to turn and flee. Another cry escaped her lips, incomprehensible even to her ears, as the wolf bounded after her, its snarls echoing through the lifeless village.

Left!

She darted left, leaping over a pile of rubble. She stumbled once or twice but quickly regained her balance, powering through the narrow path among the ruins. Behind her, the wolf charged through the debris like a battering ram, knocking aside everything in its path.

It was getting closer!

Oh, crap, oh, crap, oh, crap!

Her pulse was rising rapidly—she could feel it pounding against her eardrums. She’d been pursued before, lots of times, attacked by criminals who’d thought it would be funny to blow her to bits or put a few bullet holes in her. But none compared to this. She could smell the wolf’s hunger; it filled the air with a pungent odor, infiltrating her nostrils.

No, it wasn’t hunger. It was bloodthirst. This was no ordinary wolf. It was larger than any she’d seen in movies or on TV. This was out of control. This was—

Tristan . The thought filled her mind, sweeping aside the panic for a moment. This was exactly what he’d been talking about. His curse.

If she didn’t get away as quickly as she could, she was going to end up as fast food.

She ducked into the nearest building, which was little more than a sagging doorway and two scorched walls. She leaped over the remnants of what looked like it had once been a porch. She darted around a pile of furniture sticking out from a collapsed roof.

She finally came to a stop in the closest thing to shelter: a small shack that had already collapsed but was being held up on one end by a heap of snow. With nothing but the moonlight to see by, she was practically blind, groping in the semi-darkness for anything solid as she rushed into the building, away from the wolf trying to put her on its menu. She darted through the doorway, slamming the door shut behind her, and paused in the darkness, panting.

I should be safe here for a while.

Then again, she realized, wasn’t that want the three little pigs thought?

This big bad wolf didn’t pause to huff or puff. One second, Lyla heard it charging toward her like a bull. The next thing she knew, the door exploded, sending her flying backward. She landed on some wood, staring with wide eyes at the creature’s silhouetted outline in the doorway.

The wolf’s eyes gleamed brighter. A growl filled the small building.

“Tristan…” Lyla said, a tremor in her voice. “Tristan, it’s me. It’s Lyla. Can you hear me?”

The creature snarled, which told her all she needed to know. Trying to talk to it wasn’t going to work. This wolf had a single mission: to kill. She was simply its next target.

Defiance surged in Lyla’s chest. She was not going to die. Not today. She withdrew Tristan’s blade from under her coat just as the wolf drew closer and struck blindly with it. The blade slashed through the air, and there was a yelp as it connected with something.

Yes!

Lyla kept the blade in front of her, daring her attacker to come any closer. The wolf let out another growl. Then it turned and bounded off into the night.

For the next few seconds, she remained where she was, the building silent except for her ragged breathing. Lyla slowly lowered her blade. It hadn’t even occurred to her how badly her hands were trembling.

“That,” she breathed with a shudder, “was a really close one.”

But it wasn’t over. The wolf was still in the village. Fury sparked in her chest. For now, she would wait. She would remain here, in this building, until morning came.

And then, she would have a word with Tristan Harrison.

***

Tristan wasn’t at all surprised to find Lyla leaning over him with a blade pressed to his throat. Still, there were better ways to be woken up.

“Good morning,” he said the second his eyes fluttered open.

Lyla did not share his amusement.

“You bastard,” she spat. “You tried to fucking kill me.”

At her statement, his mind jumped to alertness. He blinked at her. What was she talking about? “You’re the one about to slit my throat with my own weapon. Did you get any sleep? You don’t look…yourself.”

Her eyes flashed, but as visible as her anger was, it couldn’t hide her exhaustion. Dark shadows circled her eyes, and there was some snow in her hair. She was straddling him, her buttocks resting deliciously against his thighs. It didn’t help that he’d awakened with a tent in his trousers. Her hips shifted slightly every few seconds or so, filling him with sensations that almost distracted him from the gravity of his situation. If she didn’t look like she would murder him, he might even have been tempted to act on the thoughts their position elicited.

He decided to choose his next words carefully.

“Were you outside last night?”

“Yes, and I would have made it back if you hadn’t tried to rip me apart.” She pressed the blade harder against his throat. “That curse of yours—it happened again, didn’t it? Don’t play dumb with me, Tristan. I know what happened.”

Irritation flickered in his chest. Not only was this woman threatening to kill him with his own weapon, but she’d also just accused him of trying to kill her—and, by extension, accused him of murdering Angus’s sons. He acted without really thinking: in one swift motion, he flipped them both so that she lay underneath him. Before she could react, he knocked the blade out of her hand, glowering down at her.

She lay pinned beneath him now. He thought he registered a flicker of fear in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by rage.

“What, are you going to turn again and slash me to bits?”

Her words only made him more annoyed. But he couldn’t help wondering if there was some truth to it. She couldn’t have been lying about being attacked last night. She definitely looked like she’d been through a lot. Could he somehow have transformed and gone on a rampage without realizing it? He was still fully clothed. And yet…

What exactly had happened last night?

“I didn’t attack you,” he told her. “I was asleep in here the whole time. Why would I want to hurt you?”

She blew a strand of hair out of her face. “The same reason you hurt Angus’s sons. You know I’m right, Tristan.”

“It wasn’t me,” he insisted, but even his voice had begun to lack conviction. He released her. “I told you, I’ve been asleep. Look, if I turned last night, I wouldn’t still have clothes on. You would have seen footprints leading back here. Did you check for those?”

Lyla was silent for a moment. He could sense her thinking, calculating, rationalizing. Still, her eyes were filled with distrust. That sight stung Tristan, but he immediately shook off the feeling. Why should he care whether she trusted him or not?

“If it wasn’t you,” she said, “then who the hell attacked me last night?”

Her question made him freeze. If he hadn’t tried to kill her last night, then there was another werewolf out there on the loose. It must have followed them. Tristan’s heart beat a little faster. He and Lyla were in greater danger than he’d realized.

He shot to his feet. “We need to leave. Now.”

“Leave Alfangar? Where—”

“ Now , Lyla!” he snapped. He snatched up his blade and started to tuck it under his coat but, as an afterthought, handed it to her. “It’s not safe here.”

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. She took the blade from him. “Let’s get out of here.”

Together, they hurried out of the dilapidated cabin…

…and froze in their tracks.

“What the—” Lyla began.

“They found us,” Tristan breathed.

Standing barely twenty feet away in a wide semi-circle were nine men. They all wore large coats and fur hats and had swords strapped to their hips. As soon as they laid eyes on the duo, several of the men drew their weapons.

The one man who hadn’t drawn his sword stepped forward, and Tristan’s entire body tensed.

“Hello, Tristan,” Angus Denning said. “You are a difficult man to track down. Now, please come peacefully with us. I would hate to have my men slaughter you in front of your new friend like you slaughtered my sons.”