Alpha Omega 02 - Hunting Ground

her blood, he dropped his hold, letting the other wolf’s head flop on the ground, and backed violently away from her. She didn’t know if Chastel was alive or dead—couldn’t bring herself to care, though she knew it would be important in just a minute. Right now, all of her attention was on Brother Wolf.
    The red wolf who was both Brother Wolf and Charles stared into her eyes, and she saw him grasp just one thing out of all the things he could have seen in her. She was scared to death—of the fae, of the blood and anger, of her own audacity—but all he let himself see was the fear, not the reasons for it.
    He held her eyes for a moment more, then trotted out the door—which opened for him, though no one held it, and slammed as soon as he was through.
    â€œAfter him,” said Dana in a voice like cut glass. “He drew first blood.”
    Her voice provided impetus to men who had been immobile observers, and they started toward the door.
    â€œStop,” Anna said . . . and then did something she’d never done, not quite like this. But the wolf knew how to do it, she’d used Charles’s power to change faster than she ever had before—and she used it now to put strength into her voice. “Stop . ”
    And the wolves, on two feet and four, who’d begun to move for Dana, stopped where they were and turned to look at her.
    The fae turned to her, too, and her voice had power as well. “He drew first blood. I am fae, I cannot lie. My word is that the one who drew blood during the hunt would be punished: blood for blood. The walls cry out for my word to be fulfilled.”
    She left her eyes on Anna but touched Angus, who stood nearby. “Liam Angus Magnusson, son of Margaret Hooper, son of Thomas Magnusson. By your true name, I tell you to fetch me Charles Cornick.”
    Angus took a step toward the door.
    â€œNo,” said Anna, and her wolf made it stick.
    Angus turned back to her, a slow smile on his face. “Yes, my lady,” he told Anna. The smile grew. “You are forgetting something, Dana Shea. The hunt was over. The bells rang before Charles attacked, and the rule of blood no longer applies.”
    Dana’s face froze, and for one instant Anna read in her eyes a lust for Charles’s death, for any death. A lust that rivaled anything she’d ever seen in a werewolf. But the fae regained control, and she smoothed her hands over her suit jacket as if it were wrinkled. “Ah. You are right.”
    â€œChastel threatened Anna, Charles’s mate,” Angus continued briskly. “Outside of the hunt, such a thing justifies the attack under our laws.”
    He was right. Anna had been so wrapped up in how Charles felt about the situation that she hadn’t pulled back enough to see the full truth. Even though Chastel hadn’t harmed her, the threat was enough to justify Charles’s in-the-heat-of-the-moment attack. Charles might not feel that way, but the wolves would—and it was enough to force Dana Shea to change her position.
    â€œNot to the death,” said Dana.
    â€œHe’s not dead,” parried Ric, who knelt beside the fallen Frenchman with Michel, the French Alpha. Someone, maybe Michel, murmured, “More’s the pity.”
    Angus strode to the wolf on the ground and took a good look. “Not even badly wounded,” he said, sounding a little disappointed himself. “Charles just cut off his air, he’ll be fine in a few minutes except for a very sore nose.”
    â€œGood,” said Anna. She walked past Angus and Dana, but stopped at the door. “Finish up here,” she said. “I’ll go talk to Charles.”
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    HE hadn’t gone to the gate, which was what she’d expected him to do.
    Anna didn’t have much experience at tracking, and most of what she did know needed snow. The gravel would have defeated her if her quarry hadn’t been bleeding like a stuck pig. Impossible to miss that the trail went in exactly the opposite direction from the gate. All that blood worried her, and she picked up her pace. Gravel changed to mud—and mud wasn’t a bad second choice to snow. Charles had big paws, and his claws dug in deeply as he headed toward the water that edged the warehouse district they were in.
    He hadn’t been running—rather a steady trot that made her hope that he hadn’t been too badly hurt despite the blood. His