Page 37 of Lycans & Lattes

The alarms inside my head didn’t immediately go off. Lots of harmless things lurked in the shadows in this town. But my gut twisted and told me to keep going. I turned and kept walking when I heard the crunch of gravel footsteps behind me, growing preternaturally closer with each stride.

I whirled back around to see nothing. “Hello?” I called.

“Hello,” came a smooth, playful, feminine voice from behind me.

Before I could whirl back around, a sharp pain split through my head. I stumbled, falling to one knee as my vision spun, but I quickly recalibrated, my wolf taking over. I snarled as I spun and launched myself at my attacker. She was covered in ink-black shadow, her cloak seeming to pull all the light into itself as it whipped around her. She let out a cackle of delight and lunged for me.

Her fist collided with my mouth, splitting my lip. I howled then swung and managed to land a blow to her side, but she sent a quick jab to my gut. We were a flurry of fists and claws. It felt like I was fighting some sort of hellcat. I tried to dodge her next blow, but she got me right in the temple, which sent me straight to the ground, seeing stars.

The next moment, the collar of my shirt was ripped open and my skin burned with the scratching of long, sharp nails. I hauled my fist back and launched it up into her torso. She grunted in pain at the force of my strike but didn’t stop, not until I grabbed the fabric of her hood.

My attacker gasped, clearly not wanting to be discovered.

As if a spell had broken, she twisted out of my grip and fled back into the dark wood.

I stumbled after her. My ears were still ringing, but I was hot on her tail until she stepped into the trees. In a single stride, she completely disappeared, not leaving a single sign that she’d been there to begin with. Aside from my bloody lip.

I doubled over, hands on my knees, panting and groaning in pain.

Who in every circle of hell was that? Who had shrouding magic like a witch, could fight like a monster, and could teleport like a demon?

I touched a hand to my busted lip, spitting blood onto the cold earth. Maybe I could follow her scent, but her paranormal speed told me it would be one hell of a chase. And something far more important flashed to the front of my mind: Willow.

I ran in the direction of the café, rubbing a hand across my collarbone that stung like I had been stabbed. It was too dark to see, but my kind healed quickly; humans didn’t. And if someone dangerous was in town, I needed Willow in arm’s reach.

17

Willow

“What the hell, Willow!” Harlow shouted. “Someone is blackmailing you and you didn’t tell me?”

Jordyn turned over the crumpled-up pieces of paper that I’d stashed away, eyes darting between them and the butcher knife. “We could probably do a reverse location spell, find out who wrote these.”

“Yes,” Harlow insisted. “And that knife might have fingerprints on it. No one touch it. We should call Dougall.”

“Dougall is the most incompetent police officer in the world,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes. “The fewer people who know about this right now, the better.”

“Does Wyatt know?” Harlow asked, and I gave my sister a look that made her roll her eyes. “Seriously, Willow? You didn’t even tell him?”

“I didn’t want him to worry.”

“Well, too bad, he’s going to be worried,” she snapped. “You need to tell him.”

“Fine,” I relented. “But no one else. Not until we know more.”

“Especially considering this person is probably a werewolf,” Jordyn agreed, scrutinizing the paper. “It’s probably some pack member who wants Wyatt to marry another wolf.”

“Like Aisling,” I grumbled under my breath.

Harlow rubbed her temples. “It’s so archaic.”

“Welcome to werewolf politics,” Jordyn sniped. “It used to be arranged marriages of the great wolf families all across the Eastern Seaboard.” She folded her arms tightly. “Patriarchal nonsense. Witches would never.”

“The witches weren’t too keen on you dating a human, either,” I pointed out. “Need I remind you, my sister and I were almost killed because your jealous ex wanted you to marry a paranormal.”

Jordyn grimaced. “Oh yeah. That.”

“Speaking of exes,” Harlow added, pointing to the knife, “this seems very jilted ex to me. Does Wyatt have any that you’d suspect?”