Wolf Slayer. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

over. Still, she wasn’t ready to concede and let this wolf chalk tonight up as a victory. Anger was flooding her with heat. She felt antsy, anxious and ready for a rematch. This time she would be prepared, she told herself.

      “I know every inch of these woods and hillsides,” she called out, hoping her voice would carry. “So it won’t take me long to find you.”

      Setting off again in the direction the unusual Were had taken, Tess imagined he sent a reply.

      “Wait for me, Tess, but give me some time.”

      Hell, that couldn’t be right. She could not have heard him. She couldn’t even see him. What she could do, however, was follow the trail of the scent that this big sucker left behind that was now deeply ingrained in her lungs. The scent underscoring the inexplicable tickle at the base of her neck and causing an internal shakeup. Her new target was both unbelievably handsome and monstrously unique. He was a worthy adversary and as powerful as Weres came.

      She had met a Lycan, and he had not killed her when he had the chance.

      All of those things factored into her renewed desire to find the bastard and put an end to whatever this was, and before she was declared certifiably insane.

      “Give you time?” she muttered. “I don’t think so.”

      She added a thought, “Got that, wolf?”

      She didn’t expect a reply and absorbed another ripple of shock when one came.

      “We are more alike than you know, Tess. If you hunt me, I will haunt you in return.”

      “BS!” Tess shouted to the otherwise quiet hillside as she stood on another rocky ledge dividing her property from the property that she now knew had to be his. But she didn’t go any farther, bothered by the word haunt and inexplicably willing to give that damn Were one more night to get his act together.

      Haunt her in the future?

      Hell, he already was.

       Chapter 5

      Sleep was elusive. Jonas hadn’t stopped pacing since he and Gwen had returned to the safety of the cabin. Chastising her would have been useless and might have driven her further from him, so Jonas kept his fears to himself.

      Tonight was the third time he had seen his sister shape-shift. The sight was both a blessing and a curse. He couldn’t foresee what kind of future Gwen might have if they made it back to Miami. The thought of taking her back there made him sick.

      He doubted that anyone else in his family had known about how special she was. She would have been too precious to everyone in the Lycan community to be allowed to roam freely among the packs.

      When they got back to Miami—and if they did—there would be a highly detailed plan for her to breed and pass along her genes. By bringing Gwen here, he had granted her the gift of more time away from all that, besides the other pressing issue of keeping her alive long enough to see that future.

      In any case, his sister hadn’t yet fully healed from her injuries and needed more time to do that.

      Jonas stood for a while at the window, searching for any hint of the things that would eventually come their way.

      The night was quiet. Tess hadn’t followed them here, and he silently thanked her for that. As for the darker thing on their trail, Jonas hoped they would have a few more days of relative tranquility before that battle took place. He also hoped he’d have time to meet Tess in more reasonable circumstances, though that wish seemed like a stretch.

      Already, and from his first sight of Tess, she had become an unshakable fixture in his mind. When Jonas closed his eyes, she was there. Each breath he took seemed to bring her closer. Leather, smoke and flowers were her calling card, and his cabin seemed to be full of those fragrances.

      He glanced at Gwen’s door and sighed. Leaning a shoulder against the wall, Jonas sent his mind outward to test his theory about his uncanny connection to this hunter.

      “Do you sleep, Tess? Are your dreams peaceful, or are they filled with dark things?”

      It was stupid of him to believe she might hear him from this far away, and yet he could swear he felt his thought travel over the distance separating them. He almost felt himself beside her, as if his threat to haunt her had come true.

      She would have a small bed in a small room, Jonas envisioned. Her fair hair would be loose and spread like sunshine across a lavender-scented pillow, because Tess Owens was actually a creature of sunlight, like other humans were.

      What would you be wearing tonight, hunter?

      He pictured her in something comfortable and light, rather than silks or satins. Tess wasn’t a girly girl.

      Maybe you’ll rest in leather in case a werewolf comes calling?

      After letting her go, she would be doubly on guard. She would have her knife handy. It was obvious that she knew how to wield a blade, as well as what she could have done with one if she had wanted to.

      “Expect me, Tess,” he sent to her. “Rest tonight. Sleep in peace. Meet me tomorrow in the sunlight when the dark things are hiding.”

      Did he see her open her eyes and turn from her pillow to listen? Was there actually a possibility she had heard him?

      What would it mean if you are listening? Am I wrong about a bond forming between us?

      He imagined Tess covering her ears in an attempt to ignore his mental invasion. But he also felt her tuning in, as if she were merely in the next room and straining to listen to him speak.

      As the images floated away, he realized that Tess probably wouldn’t fall sleep in that bed tonight, and that wishful thinking on his part didn’t ease things for either of them.

      “Tomorrow,” he said aloud. “Meet me tomorrow.”

      He felt an unusual drag on his thoughts that made his heart pound and sensed that this new bit of awareness carried no hint of Tess Owens in it.

      Jonas turned to find his sister in the doorway with a questioning expression on her face.

      Had his thoughts been too loud?

      * * *

      Tess sat up in bed after tossing and turning her way through two hours of thoughts. After checking the corners of her room for werewolves a tenth time, she threw off the covers and walked to the window.

      She couldn’t see out. The shutters were closed and locked tight in case he showed up unannounced. Without fresh air, the closeness in the room made her feel claustrophobic.

      Tess doubted if she’d be ever able to sleep again until this werewolf issue was settled. She had an intuitive feeling that tonight wouldn’t be the time for a second meeting but had to remain on guard. There was no telling what this unusual Were might do.

      “Get out of my head,” she muttered, shaking the shutter to assure herself that it was in place. Wood planks would be easy enough for a strong werewolf to destroy, but there’d be enough noise to alert her if one tried.

      Tomorrow...

      Since she’d first heard his invitation, the word had floated in and out of her consciousness with the tone of a whispered command.

      “Get out,” she whispered again, forgoing the bed in favor of a trip to the front door.

      Palming her knife, Tess left the cabin in her shorts and tank top to look up at the moon. Sensing no wolf presence, she sighed with relief and spoke out of frustration. “I accept, in case you’re the one sending this invitation.”

      Brush rustled. Night birds sang. Bugs chirped as tree branches swayed in the wind. All this was normal. Usual. Except for one thing: the feeling of dread that invaded her as Tess studied the moon.

      She dropped