Wolf Slayer. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

system of sight, scent and the image presented to him by way of her body heat.

      It was showtime.

      “Don’t bother to hide,” she called out in a tone that was both combative and dangerously sexy in equal measures. It was a deep voice for someone her size.

      Jonas hadn’t counted on her ability to tune in to him so quickly, though. This was yet another detail that added respect and wariness to his initial assessment of her.

      She seemed to be looking straight at him when she couldn’t possibly see that far. Night-vision goggles might have helped her to pinpoint him, but she wasn’t wearing them. Maybe she had heard his approach? The snap of a twig? A rustle of branches? He used to be better than this.

      She spoke again. “These days I’m fairly good at what I do, and I get better with age and practice.”

      Careful not to make a sound, Jonas inched forward with his wolfishness twisting his insides. A human growl stuck in his throat. The claws that had appeared made his human hands ache. His wolf side was willing to take on this threat, but it wasn’t time to let that happen. He doubted if Tess would take aim at a human form with the silver-tipped arrows he could now smell. Hunters rarely did.

      “Are you coming out, or should I welcome you with a silver-coated handshake?” she challenged.

      All hunters knew about the Were aversion to silver and a few other metals. Tess Owens seemed pretty confident about that aversion.

      Blaming his comeback on his reaction to her voice, Jonas decided to oblige her request, at least in part.

      He said, “Handshake? I wasn’t aware that you had social skills, Owens. People in town told me you rarely show your face there. To some of them, you’re more of a ghost than a neighbor.”

      He wondered what that remark might do to her self-confidence and if it would shake her up in a way that might lead him to find a crack in her admirable armor.

      “People in town don’t actually know me,” she returned, showing no sign of being affronted either by his remark or the fact that he had not shape-shifted like he was supposed to.

      Jonas took another step forward, keeping to the darker spaces. His wolf urges were rising by steady degrees, drawn to the moon, drawn to Tess Owens, ready to take its turn in this face-off.

      “Don’t stall the inevitable on my behalf,” she continued. “There’s no need to fight your true nature. You know you want a piece of me.”

      “What nature would that be?” Jonas asked.

      “The kind that howls.”

      “I think I’d prefer to meet you on a more human basis, at least on this occasion,” he said.

      “Should I be honored?”

      “That’s up to you.”

      “Show yourself and get this over with.”

      “Put down the bow and I’ll think about your request.”

      “How about if you reel in your claws?”

      Her comeback was testy and insightful since she couldn’t actually see his claws. Wild guess?

      Jonas asked, “What if I’m not what you’re thinking I am? Don’t you ever make a mistake when pointing a weapon at someone?”

      “Only one mistake, and I won’t make it again.”

      She might have been alluding to the death of her parents a year ago. But now that he was closer, Jonas finally got a good look at her face.

      He suppressed a growl of appreciation. Tess was incredibly beautiful. All the right stuff was there, in all the right places. She had an oval face with perfectly symmetrical features and large, light eyes. Her brow was wide beneath a fringe of fair hair. Angular cheekbones gave her a regal look, though the deep hollows beneath them accentuated her thinness.

      All in all, she didn’t look anything like any wolf hunter Jonas had ever seen.

      However, she wasn’t perfect. Overlaying all that beauty was a trail of scars. Lavender lines, like crawling vines, crossed one side of her face, running from her forehead to her chin.

      Jonas recognized those scars and knew what had made them. Tess had been mauled by a wolf, and that wolf had done some damage. Because she was here now, it was easy for him to see who the winner of that previous skirmish had been.

      “Are scars the reason you stay away from town, or are hunters loners by necessity?” he asked, earnestly wondering about that.

      A shudder of disgust ran through her, but Tess didn’t drop the aim of the arrow pointed in his direction. Still, Jonas thought he might have found that crack he’d been searching for, however small it might have been. Those scars bothered her.

      “Old wounds come with the territory,” she said calmly enough.

      Jonas nodded as he took another step toward her. She still wouldn’t be able to see him clearly, and he wasn’t going to allow verbal taunts or silver-tipped arrows to mess up this crucial meeting. Two more steps to his right and into the moonlight, and he would become the target she was looking for. He had to stave off that shape-shift. He had to hold on, sensing how badly she wanted to let that arrow fly.

      Tess wasn’t just a hunter out to score. Her level of palpable aggression told him that she had a personal vendetta against the creatures she hunted. Six years on the force with the Miami PD had taught him a lot about dealing with emotion and the concept of revenge. Tess’s hatred for his kind left a sour taste in his mouth.

      “Claws also come with the territory,” he said.

      “Then use them. Do your worst. Or try to,” she taunted.

      “Having animal in my DNA makeup doesn’t make me stupid, Tess.”

      His use of her name surprised her. Her right cheek quivered.

      “If true, that kind of insight would be a first,” she noted.

      “You have no reason to fear or hate me. I’d like to offer a truce,” Jonas said.

      “Like that will happen.”

      “What can I do to force the issue? I have an agenda here that doesn’t include you. My reason for being in the area is important to people other than myself.”

      “People?” She picked up on that word, emphasizing its misuse when pertaining to him.

      Jonas wasn’t used to this kind of treatment. In Miami he was a respected detective on the job, fighting crime both in and out of the shadows. To Tess Owens, he was nothing more than an animal.

      Turns out that she was formidable enough, he supposed. But she was also quite a sight standing there—a delicious, leather-clad, angry sight.

      He wondered what she’d think if he mentioned how exotic he found her voice or how good she looked in that black suit. He could have bet she’d have been insulted then.

      “I applaud your goals,” he told her. “But I’m not one of the bad guys.”

      “Wouldn’t bad guys use that line?”

      “Not around me,” he said.

      Would Tess believe that Weres didn’t like bad guys of any species, including their own? Would she change her mind about werewolves if she knew how many decent wolves there were in the world, and how they fought behind the scenes to further the concept of peace and justice for all?

      What if he showed her his badge?

      “Most of the time, human is what I appear to be,” he said. “That’s what the world believes I am.”

      “Except for those of us who know better.”

      “Yes. But I’m not part of the reason you do what you do, and I’ve already stated that my intention for being here isn’t to