Wolf at the Door Read Online Free Page A

left it, propped open
on the armrest of her recliner. Timber paused, staring at the spot
where Brandt had been sitting. He wasn’t typical of the Hounds
she’d come to know over the years.
    If she hadn’t known better, she’d have
thought he truly cared.
    “Except you do know better,” she murmured.
Hounds never cared when it came to shifters.
    She tried to wrestle her attention back to
the book, but she couldn’t bring herself to go over and curl up in
that chair. The room felt stuffy, too small, cramped. The wolf
inside her paced, uneasy. The hunter never liked being the
hunted.
    She’d had enough of that when she’d been
imprisoned in Charles’s version of Hell.
    Fine . Timber stalked to the front
door, braced her hands against the wood, and leaned up to look out
the peephole. It wouldn’t hurt just to open the door for a second
and breathe in some fresh air, right? If it had been any of her
wolves making that argument she’d have lectured them until she was
hoarse.
    And yet she quietly slid open the locks and
cracked open the door anyway.
    The cold night air flowed over her skin like
a soothing balm. The wind brushed over her cheeks, and she wanted
nothing more than to close her eyes and soak it all in.
    The smell of blood hit her first, and her
stomach twisted, wild with fear. Her hand tightened on the doorknob
and she was about to slam the door shut when she saw the hair
scrunchie lying on her front steps.
    Red smears across the rich hunter green.
    There were still strands of long brown hair
tangled around the small bit of cloth. Her throat locked around a
whimper. Becky’s. But it was the deep, masculine scent, the
combination of wood smoke and an aftershave she would never forget,
that had her knees buckling. Only her grip on the door kept her
from hitting the linoleum.
    Oh God. Oh God. Oh God . Timber jerked
backwards and slammed the door, her hands shaking so hard she
fumbled with the locks. It was a dream. It was a nightmare and, oh, God , she had to be wrong. The chain lock slid into place,
followed by the deadbolt, the lock on the handle, but none of it
could possibly be enough.
    She sank down against the door, the world
spinning around her, as if the entire universe had been rocked
right off its axis. It wasn’t real, her brain tried to tell her. It
was too much of a shock. Charles was gone. He couldn’t find her
here. Whoever had left Becky’s hair tie on her porch had to have
been someone completely different.
    She tried to believe it. She truly did.
    Timber concentrated on getting her control
back. In and out. In and out . The words were a silent chant
as she forced the air through her lungs. It was only when she could
breathe without feeling the drive to hyperventilate that she
dragged herself to her feet. Her knees wobbled, fear leaving her
weak, and she staggered toward her living room.
    Her cell sat on the table next to her book
and her hand closed over it. Sinking into the chair she forced
herself to pick up the small card the Hound had left behind. A
hysterical laugh built, threatening to bubble out and break
loose.
    The last time she’d gone to the Hounds for
help they’d laughed her off, and she’d ended up in Hell.
    She wasn’t sure she could survive if Shifter
Town Enforcement did it to her again.
    It’s not him . She reminded herself. It can’t be him. You’re only calling to alert them to a tiny a
bit of evidence for their case, once they’re here and pick it up,
you’ll see. It’s just your demented mind playing tricks on
you.
    But no matter what she told herself, she knew
the truth.
    With trembling fingers she dialed. It took
her four tries to get the number right, but the moment it started
ringing, she longed to hang up, go back up and pull the covers over
her head, and pretend none of this had happened. Maybe she’d wake
up in a second and discover it was just another nightmare after
all.
    “Shifter Town Enforcement, what’s your
emergency?” a woman’s voice came