The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

from the others.
    That was brave of you.
    There are two hunters behind you, about a quarter of a mile. One is closer.
    Yes, I can scent them now. The wind had changed direction, giving Mac some information on where the hunters were located. Damn it, he could smell Lily too. She was too damn close to the men.
    It’s impossible for me to lose them in this snow. They can track every move I make.
    One of the hunters is coming closer. Get out of here now, Casey. I’ll stop him from following you and catch up to you later.
    But they’ve got guns. He’ll kill you.
    He won’t kill me. Even in his mind, Mac’s voice came out filled with low, cold fury. Go!
    Casey hesitated a moment, then dashed off into the woods.
    Moments later, the hunter entered the clearing. Mac lowered his head and laid his ears back, growling. Slowly, he circled the man, staring him down. The hunter was dressed in green snow gear, a brown ski mask covering his face.
    “You’re a big one. Derrick said you were. You’ll make a nice addition to my wall.”
    Do you make a habit of hunting down unsuspecting teenage boys for sport? Do you murder kids often? Maybe pick off toddlers on the weekends?
    The hunter was taken by surprise with the telepathy. “I don’t consider that thing a boy or a child at all. It’s an animal, like any other. Just like you.”
    We’re all animals. Humans are animals too.
    “You know what I mean. Don’t start that bullshit equal-rights crap with me.” He turned and spit into the snow. “Won’t work.”
    Did you come alone? Mac let a long, thin growl trickle from between his lips. You know that was stupid, right? Come alone and end up food for the scavengers.
    “You wouldn’t eat me?”
    I wouldn’t touch your mangy hide even if I were starving. The vultures can have you.
    The man repositioned the rifle in his gloved hands. He seemed to be stalling for some reason. “I didn’t come alone. The others have the woman and are toying with her a bit before they kill her, that’s all.”
    Mac lunged forwards, snarling, and the hunter raised the rifle with a jerk, betraying his nervousness. “Watch it or I’ll shoot you now.”
    Why wait? Oh, I get it. You’re under someone’s authority. Did the boss tell you not to ruin his fun?
    “I don’t take orders from anyone.”
    I don’t know. You look like the omega to me.
    The omega was the whipping wolf in a pack - the one everyone else took their frustrations out on. It was a deceiving title, since it sounded like it would take a weak wolf to occupy such a position. In fact, it was a position of honour, held by one of the strongest members of the pack, a wolf able to withstand the beatings of the others. In fact, quite frequently the omega eventually became alpha. To a human, though, being called the omega was a high insult, since they lacked a finer understanding of shifter society.
    “Shut up,” the hunter snapped, the rifle shaking.
    Oh, he’d hit a nerve.
    Mac growled, hunkering down and ready to leap at the man. He needed to extricate himself from this and fast. This man lacked the cojones to pull the trigger without his boss’s leave. Human pack behaviour wasn’t all that much different from a wolf’s. This man wasn’t alpha material - not by a long shot.
    “You seem antsy. Are you worried about the woman? Don’t be. I’m sure she’s dead by now.” The hunter shrugged. “Nothing to be concerned about any more.”
    The hunter raised his rifle and sighted down the barrel at Mac. Mac balanced on his paws, ready to spring. Out of nowhere came a streak of black. The hunter went down with an anguished yelp of terror and the gun fired, shot going wide.
    Somewhere in the distance, he heard a woman scream.
    Mac bounded towards it, leaving behind him the sound of a growling Casey and an ever-widening red stain in the snow.
    “What is it with you and the shifters, huh, Lily? What’s with the fucking fascination?” Derrick shook her. “What’s wrong with your own kind?”
    “If we’re using you as the model, Derrick, lots.”
    He pushed her down into the snow and pointed the rifle at her head. The sound of a bullet loading into the chamber made her shiver and her stomach go loose and nauseated with butterflies. Lily had never had a gun muzzle pressed to her forehead. She imagined she could even smell it — old blood and cold metal. The scent of her death.
    She would like to be able to say she was fearless, but having a man so full of hate press a gun