Bonedust

handful of popcorn and pondered the movie.
    Kanon knew the moment the soft sole of a shoe touched the hardwood floor in his dining room. Whoever it was, she was soft and easy on her feet, like a huntress stalking a zebra. Definitely female. No male lion moved that lightly on his feet.
    The steps paused, just a brief hesitation creeping closer in his direction but she didn’t rush. She was clever enough not to risk that he might not be watching the movie. A small smile twisted his lips. This was almost fun.
    She paused, close to the room, if not in it, and Kanon had to force himself not to turn his head. Instead, he inhaled a quiet breath, keeping it slow and easy as he tried to catch her scent. Definitely female, but beyond that, he wasn’t sure. There was no wind to go in his favor and Tegan’s stupid air freshener let out a blast of cinnamon so strong it burned his nose. Another victim fell dead on the TV in front of him.
    “You know I’m here,” the woman said.
    “Honey, I knew you were there the moment you stepped on my porch. Just figured I’d wait and see what you were gonna do.” He didn’t look, though damn he wanted to. Instead he waited for her to decide; let her figure out her next move. She sounded sultry. Like the kind of woman that could lure a man to his grave just by the sound of her voice. Like a siren in the middle of the damned ocean.
    She’d made it this far. What was she going to do now? Bail and run or keep on coming? A wave of want flooded through him at that last thought. Please keep on coming. Maybe he was a little lonely tonight after all.
    “Kanon Reyes?”
    Tension eased into a knot between his shoulders. “That depends doesn’t it?”
    Carefully, he set the bowl on the carpet and slid to a sit, turning to get a good look at the woman in his living room. Damn. She had dirt caked over her pants up to her knees, and her skin-toned tank top clung to every curve of her body. Her combat boots looked worn and comfortable, wrapped lovingly around strong legs. She also had the reddest hair he’d ever seen.
    But she wasn’t a lioness.
    Kanon’s gaze drifted to the gun holster and the ugly butt of gun he’d bet was packing silver.
    His nostrils flared as he sucked her scent down deep.
    Canine. Kanon cringed. Hound . Fuck.
    “Who are you?”
    “Lennox Donnelly.” He saw the glint of silver cuffs jutting out from her back pocket as she took a step forward, confirming his suspicions. Shifter Town Enforcement. If they’d sent a dog after him, it’d be a ridgeback.
    Probably a whole damned pack.
    “Kanon Reyes...”
    “Save it.”
    There was a creak on the front porch again, faint. Heavier. Male this time. Damn.
    So they had sent a pack.
    She reached a hand around and tugged out her badge.
    The steps headed straight for them. Confident, quick. Her attention flicked to the door, her body going tense as she reached to pull her gun. Not a Hound then. He was on his feet before he heard the key slip into the lock, moving to block her shot. He reached out towards her with one hand, the word coming on a low growl, “Don’t.”
    Her gaze locked with his. She didn’t give a rat’s ass what he wanted and Kanon stepped towards her, violence entrenching itself deep in his gut. Her eyes turned hard as she leveled the gun on him, but at least it wasn’t at Tegan.
    The door swung open and his partner stepped in, black hair shaggy around his face. Tegan froze. His growl was instantaneous as he glanced from one to the other, before turning to face off squarely with the woman pointing a gun at Kanon. “Who the fuck are you?”
    “Lennox Donnelly,” Kanon said before she could spit it out. “And she was just about to explain what she thinks she’s arresting me for.”
    But he knew. He just wanted to hear it from her. Hear one of Shifter Town Enforcement’s many little lies. She stiffened, shoulders tensing, and he could almost picture her hackles rising all the way down her spine. Kanon swallowed.
    Hellfire. She was something different all right. Not exactly beautiful, but more of a drop dead gorgeous appeal. The gun, the rough and rugged edge to her, the fierce blaze of confidence in her eyes as she flicked her attention between them—calculating the risks. Drop dead was stamped all over her pretty little face, right along with the dust smears and the rust hair, a few loose strands hanging around her face, bringing out the green in her eyes. Green that wouldn’t carry true to her