Alpha Omega 02 - Hunting Ground

tracks took her to the fence at the back of the compound. Twelve feet of chain link with razor wire—and wounded, he’d managed to jump it. She wasn’t sure she could have, even in wolf form. And she wouldn’t change again so soon unless she had to. In twenty minutes, maybe. But she wasn’t going to wait that long.
    There had been something wrong in Brother Wolf’s gaze. Something mad . . . maddened. As she contemplated the fence, she remembered a challenge he’d issued to her as they went to see Dana Shea for the first time. They’d both forgotten about it.
    â€œWhat kind of a fae is Dana Shea?” she muttered to herself as she searched for a way past the fence. Dana was something strong enough to frighten a troll, certainly, strong enough to be a Gray Lord—though Anna had no real idea how strong that would have to be. Something that ate people—the hunger the fae’d shown was unmistakably predatory. Something to do with water—she lived in a houseboat and still had a water fountain and pond inside.
    La Belle Dame Sans Merci . The beautiful lady without mercy, who lured men to her river or stream and drowned them. Made them believe something that wasn’t.
    Made them believe something that wasn’t.
    Charles had proven himself immune to Dana’s spell of desire. Maybe he wasn’t immune to all of her magic, though.
    Charles had been kind of on edge tonight. But he was smart, he was quick-thinking—and he attacked after Chastel had withdrawn. That was very uncharacteristic. She’d been worried about the consequences of that—how Charles would feel about his actions. She hadn’t stopped to think that was because his actions had been so far out of the ordinary for him.
    Her mate knew more about Dana, he’d told her so—and presumably Bran knew even more than Charles. She’d ask him about it, tell him about what she’d seen in Dana’s face—as soon as she found Charles.
    She went to the nearest fence post and pulled the chain link until she’d popped all the retaining clips that attached it to the post. Then she jerked it up, feeling the bite of it in her shoulders and biceps. It wasn’t something a human of her size could have done: there were a few benefits to being a werewolf. When she was done, she had a big enough hole to crawl through—she’d have to remember to tell Angus he needed to fix his fence.
    She followed Charles’s trail, not hurrying because he wasn’t. She didn’t know what she’d find at the end of the trail, but she was pretty sure it would be better if she didn’t find him too soon. Or too late.
    Would he expect the hunt that Dana had been so quick to send out? Was he ready to face dozens of the toughest wolves Europe had to offer? Did he expect Angus to come after him? Or Dana herself? Had he felt it when Anna had drawn upon his power to stop the fae woman? Could he feel her coming after him now? The bond between them sang with strength and tension, but that was all she could sense through it.
    Except . . . she found that as she thought about it, she could tell where he was. He was releasing his hold on their bond, not hiding so hard. Anna stopped at that thought. Was that what he was doing? Hiding from her?
    He was not a violent man by nature. She knew that, had felt his gentleness herself. He had made himself into the man his father needed, his pet killer, his sword arm. He was very, very good at his job.
    But Brother Wolf craved blood and flesh. Her own wolf didn’t: it was one of the differences that being Omega gave her. She remembered Charles’s stopping in front of his father’s house when it smelled of blood and pain. He’d asked her what she smelled, then told her that if she were not Omega, the smell would have made her hungry.
    He’d been hungry, though he hadn’t told her that.
    In her wolf form, she could eat raw meat and like it. But when she was human, blood smelled like blood, not food.
    Anna started walking again and noticed that he was headed downhill, toward the . . . she squinted and wasn’t able to figure out if it was the Sound, or just another of the saltwater lakes that were everywhere she looked in Seattle. She hadn’t thought to ask when they drove here; she’d been worried about the hunt.
    There was a narrow path next to an equally narrow freshwater stream that slid through the blackberry