Jace had grown into his position quickly, and as the youngest male Alpha in the world, he was also among the strongest. His leadership had been challenged three times in the four-and-a-half years since he’d taken over the Appalachian Territory, and none of the challengers had come close to beating him. There were only a handful of werecats in the world who could hold their own with him one-on-one, and I was not among those. Nor did I want to be.
He mirrored my stance with his arm crossed over his broad chest, and I could hear the warning before he even spoke. “Abigail Wade, if you’re not in the car in ten minutes, I’ll…”
“You’ll what? Drag me out by my hair? Wouldn’t be a first for me.”
That was a low blow, and I had no right to aim it at him, but the moment the words left my mouth, his anger crumpled beneath the weight of something much worse.
Sympathy.
I found pity and awkward compassion everywhere I turned in the werecat world because all my fellow Shifters could think about when they looked at me was what had happened to me the summer I turned seventeen, and how broken I must be because of it. Which was why I preferred the human world, where I was presumed strong until proven damaged.
“Sorry.” I bowed my head and stared at my boots. “I shouldn’t have—”
“No, you’re right.” He cleared his throat and I stared at his boots. “We all let you down when you were just a kid, and I let you down last October. You could have been killed out there in the woods, and I can’t let that happen again. So I’m ordering you to go get your things and come with me to the ranch. For your own safety.”
That was without a doubt the most overused phrase in any Alpha’s repertoire, and it sounded strange, coming from Jace. As if he didn’t really believe what he was saying. But further argument would do me no good, so I sucked in a deep breath and made myself meet his gaze. “Fine. Give me ten minutes.” Then I turned and walked back to the dorm without another glance at him.
What had happened to me—and to Robyn—on fall break wasn’t Jace’s fault. If I’d told him I was leaving campus, as I was technically obliged to do, he would have sent at least one of his enforcers to watch out for me, hidden in the trees in feline form. I’d kept him out of the loop because I didn’t want to be watched, and Jace had probably caught hell from the other council members for letting one of the country’s few and precious tabbies put herself in mortal danger.
But he must have taken full responsibility for what I’d done—as any good Alpha would—because no one had yelled at me for my lapse in judgment. Not even my parents, during our bi-monthly video chat.
I owed Jace, even beyond the normal respect due an Alpha from one of his pride members, and paying him back with insolence was unacceptable.
In our dorm room, Robyn finally turned away from the window to watch me throw clothes—both clean and dirty—into my big duffle. “You’re leaving? Now?”
“My dad wants me to come home for Christmas.” I threw my toothbrush, its charger, and a nearly empty tube of toothpaste into my toiletries bag, on top of the small, square box that had been there since my previous trip home. Then I scooped my makeup into the bag with one swipe of the counter. “Will you be okay here on your own?” Since she was staying on campus over the holiday, we wouldn’t have to pack up all our stuff and vacate the dorm room, a convenience I hadn’t truly appreciated until that moment.
“Yeah. The nightmares are practically gone. I’m fine, Abby. Really.”
I met her gaze in the mirror, trying to decide whether or not that was true. She had few physical scars from what went down in the woods over fall break, and those bastards hadn’t gotten the chance to molest her. Still, she’d seen three of our friends slaughtered right in front of her, and most people weren’t used to seeing violence or death, up close and personal.
More than anything in the world, I wished I wasn’t either.
“Okay. Knowing my parents, I’ll probably be gone for most of the winter break, but I can come back sooner if you need me. Call if you want to talk. Okay?”
“I promise.” She smiled at me in the mirror. “Now go have Christmas with your family.”
Christmas with my family.
My mother would hover over me and analyze everything I said for evidence that I hadn’t recovered from that summer four years ago. My father would watch me out of the corner of his eye and not-so-subtly mention Brian, and how accomplished he’d become as an enforcer, looking for any sign that I was ready to settle down and turn my parents into grandparents.
My brothers would follow me into town so I couldn’t get snatched off the street during any last-minute Christmas shopping, and they’d mentally dismember any guy who had the balls to even look my way, in spite of my large fraternal guard detail.
Going home for Christmas sounded about as much fun as Thanksgiving spent in prison.
On the bright side, there’d probably be ham.
“So, what’s the big emergency?” I said as I threw my duffle onto the rear floorboard, then slid into the passenger’s seat of Jace’s SUV. His gaze landed on my thighs, where my short skirt had ridden up, and the sudden jump in his pulse was…gratifying.
He’d seen me naked—and I, him—a million times, but nudity means little to most shifters, because it’s required for the transformation to and from feline form. Shifters are aroused by what they don’t see. What they almost see. By the intent implied by flesh displayed behind or beneath strategically placed panels of lace or silk. Flesh that is put on display, in private, for a specific intended audience.
Lingerie is big with shifters, for obvious reasons.
But Jace had never looked at me like that before. As if he wondered what my underwear looked like.
I laughed, and he flushed—I’d never seen an Alpha flush in anything other than anger. Then he looked straight out the windshield and made an obvious, concerted effort to slow his pulse.
“Jace?” I said, and he cleared his throat.
“Hmm?” He slammed the gearshift into reverse and made a production of looking into the rearview mirror as he backed out of the parking space.
“The emergency? Why are we going to the ranch?”
“Oh. Someone’s killing humans, and the local news has picked up the story.”
“Local?” Not good. “How local?”
“For us? Very. The victims have all been killed in our territory.” Jace looked left, then right on his way out of the parking lot, and my stomach clenched as the details began to coalesce into something that almost made sense. “Right now, the cops think there’s a wild animal on the loose, but if we don’t find the rogue and take him out, they’re going to start suspecting foul play. Or they’re going to shoot one of our guys while they’re out hunting this mythical black cougar, then they’ll have biological proof that humans aren’t the most dangerous thing out there. The council’s in self-defense mode. They’ll do whatever it takes to keep us from being outted.”
“You’re sure the killer’s one of ours? Couldn’t it be a thunderbird or a bruin?” Please let it be a thunderbird or a bruin. Bird- and bear-shifters could be every bit as vicious as werecats, and if it wasn’t a cat, it wasn’t our responsibility.
“Definitely a cat,” Jace said, and I had to grab the door handle to keep from landing in his lap with he took a turn too hard. He still didn’t drive like an Alpha. “But probably not ours.”
“You think it’s a stray,” I said, as more of the pieces fell into place.
“We didn’t get to examine the bodies—the cops got there first, and we don’t have anyone on the inside—but we know for a fact that there are no natural wildcats in Appalachia.” Or anywhere else heavily populated with shifters. Natural cats avoided us like the plague. “So it better be a stray,” he continued. “Because if one of our own’s gone rogue, we’re all in big trouble.”
But what he didn’t say aloud—what I could see etched into the brand new Alpha-lines on his otherwise youthful forehead—was that we cou
ldn’t afford for it to be a stray either. Not when they were so close to voting on the resolution he and Faythe had cosponsored in the territorial council.
For the first time in U.S. history, the council was being asked to formally acknowledge a Pride made up entirely of strays who wished to carve out a territory of their own in one of the free zones. Faythe’s husband Marc—a stray adopted as a child by her father—had been acting as liaison to the potential new Pride, helping them get all their Ts crossed and Is dotted, in order to present themselves at the next meeting.
If the council discovered that the murderer was a stray, that resolution would never pass. The project Jace, Faythe, and Marc had hoped would bring lasting peace between strays and Pride cats would fail before it ever even had a chance.
“That’s why I have to go with you to the ranch,” I said, and Jace gave me a small nod. If there was a murderous stray loose in the Appalachian territory, my dad wouldn’t want me to stay at the lodge for the holidays. Even though Jace had probably tripled his security measures to protect his mother and sister.
Tabbies were too rare and too precious to risk, and having two of them of childbearing age in the same house would only strengthen the temptation for a stray who’d probably never even met a female of his own species.
“So, this is history repeating itself? The big strong tomcat has come to drag the helpless council chairman’s daughter home from school for her own good?”
“It was the right thing to do for Faythe, and it’s the right thing to do for you. But you’re far from helpless.” Jace’s voice rang with admiration that warmed me all over. “I know a few hunters rotting in shallow graves in the woods who could attest to that.” His pride in me became misplaced nostalgia, and alarms went off in my head. “Faythe taught you well.”
The warm smile he gave me would have felt wonderful—if it were meant for me. “Jace…I’m not Faythe.”
He laughed again, and those inner alarms began to fade. “Glad to hear it. Things never seem to work out in my favor, when she’s involved. You, however…” He aimed another blue-eyed glance at me, and I caught my breath “You’re my new lucky charm. Kiddo.”
Read the rest Abby and Jace's story in LION’S SHARE, coming in late 2014. If you’d like to be notified when future books in this series or other books by Rachel Vincent are released, sign up for her mailing list here.
About the Author
Rachel Vincent is a former English teacher and an eager champion of the Oxford comma. She shares her home in Oklahoma with two cats, two teenagers, and her husband, who’s been her # 1 fan from the start. Rachel is older than she looks and younger than she feels, and she remains convinced that writing about the things that scare her is the cheapest form of therapy—but social media is a close second.
Also By Rachel Vincent
Shifters
Stray
Rogue
Pride
Prey
Shift
Alpha
Unbound
Blood Bound
Shadow Bound
Oath Bound
Soul Screamers
My Soul To Take
My Soul To Save
My Soul To Keep
My Soul To Steal
If I Die
Before I Wake
With All My Soul
Coming Soon
Lion’s Share
The Stars Never Rise
Menagerie
Acknowledgements:
Thanks must go, first and foremost, to my husband, who has put countless hours into my career in the form of artwork, web design, brainstorming, and moral support. You are my anchor and I love you.
Thanks also to Rinda Elliott, my long-term critique partner, who critiqued and proofed both “Hunt” and LION’S SHARE, as well as the entire Shifters series.
Thanks to Jennifer Lynn Barnes, for untold hours of Panera-fueled writing and company.
Thanks to Carrie Ryan and Jeannette Battista, for endless resources.
Thanks to Melissa, Molly, and the Deadline Dames for encouragement on this independent venture.
And thanks most of all to all the Shifters fans who asked for more.
Table of Contents:
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Hunt
A Note From Rachel
Excerpt from Lion’s Share
Acknowledgments
Rachel Vincent, Hunt: A Shifters Short Story
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