Jesse forced himself to take a breath in and out, relaxing his hand on the gun when the second wolf burst out of the woods, and he almost fell down from the shock. This wolf had more traditional coloring: it was a dusky tan that faded down its legs into white paws. Impossibly, it was even bigger than the first, two hundred pounds or more. Jesse had a sense of immense power, of gorgeous, kinetic grace. Then he realized the new wolf was favoring one leg, and that there was a series of long rusty stripes down its body that didn’t seem natural—blood. It was bleeding.
The tan wolf paused in its chase to look at Jesse. Jesse’s stomach twisted with cold fear as the tan wolf gazed calmly at him. It wasn’t growling or anything, but it was so goddamned big that Jesse felt a rush of stupidity. What was he doing out here with this creature? He raised his gun automatically, and now the animal’s lip curled up, a growl starting in the back of its throat. Its canine teeth were enormous, almost as long as Jesse’s thumb. It moved laterally to put itself between Jesse and the charcoal wolf, which had stopped too, a few hundred feet away. With its enemy distracted, the charcoal wolf began to creep back in the direction of its pursuer.
Shit. Jesse didn’t know how intelligent the werewolves were in their other form, but it seemed like the tan wolf understood the gun. Very slowly, he put the gun back in the holster, hoping to pacify the big tan wolf, who must surely be . . . Will? Jesse cursed himself for not thinking to get pictures of the wolves in the LA pack. As his gun went down, the tan wolf’s growling softened, though it kept its eyes fixed on Jesse. The charcoal wolf saw an opportunity and leapt at its pursuer with the total, determined commitment of hunters. The enormous tan wolf sensed the leap and instantly turned to meet the charcoal wolf as it crashed into him with unnatural speed and power.
The two werewolves were a blur of dark and light movement, like animal fights in those old Looney Tunes cartoons, where there was just a cloud of gray smoke and the occasional paw or tail sticking out. Jesse jumped back to avoid being trampled, trying to make out what was happening in the weak light from Will’s porch. The tan wolf was trying to protect itself, but not really attacking its smaller opponent with any seriousness. The charcoal wolf, on the other hand, was enraged, launching forward to snap at the other wolf’s legs and hindquarters. The tussle took both animals a few yards away from Jesse, and he began to edge back toward the car.
But before he’d gone very far, the wolves separated and the charcoal one let out a hacking bark of frustration. Then it froze, blinking, and Jesse was struck by how eerily human the gesture was. The werewolf had an idea. It wheeled around, snarling, and made a sudden beeline for Jesse.
“Shit!” Jesse yelled, scrabbling for his gun again. He got it out but couldn’t get the safety off before the charcoal wolf had two paws on his chest.
Jesse went down hard, instinctively dropping the gun as he brought his arms up to protect his head. He felt the werewolf’s jaws clamp down on his raised forearm in the same moment, and cried out with pain. The charcoal wolf just bit deeper.
The tan wolf hit the charcoal wolf with a rolling tackle, but the smaller wolf had a perfect lock on Jesse’s arm, and it dragged Jesse with it as it rolled, wrenching his forearm in its jaws. He screamed with the pain as he was flipped sideways, nearly landing on his attacker. The charcoal wolf slipped nimbly out from under him and stepped right onto his goddamned chest, the unexpected weight making him gasp. It never let go of his arm.
Suddenly, the sharp pop of a gunshot exploded in the night. Jesse felt the charcoal wolf’s jaw loosen its grip with surprise, and both of them looked toward the source of the sound. Scarlett was on the lawn in front of them, silhouetted against the house lights, her hand extended in the air. She had his service Beretta raised toward the sky, and was grimacing with pain. Jesse didn’t see her cane anywhere.
“What the fuck,” she said, her voice ragged but calm, “is going on here?”
Chapter 22
Jesse grinned with relief. Scarlett lowered the gun to her side and began limping toward them, taking little hopping steps and dragging her bad leg behind her. The charcoal wolf snarled with frustration and launched itself off Jesse, forcing a little oof of pain out of him as it pushed off his chest. Then it raced back toward the woods, leaving Jesse and the tan wolf alone in the yard.
Jesse staggered to his feet to go help Scarlett, but there was a sudden movement to his right, and by the time he turned his head Jesse could see a very human Will, stark naked, rolling to his feet. Without even looking at Scarlett, Will squared off opposite Jesse and demanded in a panting voice, “Did it break the skin?”
“Huh?” Jesse looked down and realized he was clutching his forearm. It throbbed with hot pain, but he didn’t see any blood. He held it up, angling himself so he could inspect the arm in the dim light. The thick leather of his jacket had caught the werewolf’s teeth—one or two had gone all the way through, leaving perfect little holes in the leather, but the shirt underneath it was okay. “No, my jacket stopped it,” he said, and Will’s shoulders sagged with relief.
It was only then that Jesse understood the alpha’s anxiety. “Wait, could I . . . could he have turned me into a werewolf just now?”
“She,” Will said wearily. He’d dropped down onto the lawn, sitting with his elbows propped on his knees. The shadows hid most of his body, but his nudity didn’t seem to concern him anyway. “That was Anastasia. And it’s unlikely that one bite would have changed you . . . but yeah. It was possible.”