Page 5 of Baiting the Werewolf

I tilt my head. “Yeah, because he makes the best sandwiches and likes to show off.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Or maybe it’s because he’s pining for you too,” he says, then walks away.

I stand there for a second. The lavender scent hanging in the air mocks me. Is it possible? No. Nick doesn’t know Wes as I do. Hell, I haven’t introduced him to anyone I work with, despite Wes’s repeated hints. It’s just too risky. What we do is dangerous, and I want to keep Wes far away from this world.

So, no, he’s not into me, not like that. Just like I’m not into him. I catch up to Nick. “He doesn’t know about us. About me,” I confess without meaning to.

Nick looks heavenward. “Why does everyone have to be so dramatic about the werewolf thing when no one has ever given a single fuck about it?”

I frown, then make the wise decision to ignore him. “Well, it’s not safe. He gets really enthusiastic about things. If he knows, he’ll want in. And I don’t want him involved.”

“What’s wrong with being involved in our world? Literally every human I’ve known has never regretted it.”

“Because they didn’t have any options, did they? The Bureau keeps them on a watchlist,” I say.

“The watchlist is a myth,” he argues.

Leaves scrunch somewhere close, bringing our unnecessary argument to an end. I turn to Nick and press a finger to my lips.

He nods once, then points to the right. Then we’re off. Adrenaline pumps through me, carrying my feet farther into the forest. All of Nick’s stupid suggestions forgotten. This is what I live for. The rush. The feeling of doing something worthwhile.

And the sooner I’m done here, the sooner I can be back on Wes’s couch eating vanilla ice cream and listening to him complain about that fucking asshole.

I ignore the lavender smell I must be imagining.

“I would never understand werewolves who use scented stuff,” Nick says, bringing me to a sudden halt.

“You smell that too?” No. Fuck no.

Nick stops and turns when he realizes I’m no longer walking beside him. He frowns. “Yeah, man. Isn’t that what we were following?”

No, I was following the sound and the rotting musk of blood, probably from one of the animals those werewolves hunted.

But clearly, the scent has been there all along. I just didn’t want to acknowledge it because surely it couldn’t be real. Surely Wes wouldn’t be stupid enough to follow me into the woods filled with wild werewolves.

I pull out my phone and dial him while Nick looks at me, confused.

Chapter Three

Wesley

My phone vibrates with a call. I ignore it without checking and continue walking. I can’t deal with Marissa right now. Not when I’m almost a hundred percent sure someone is watching me. I make an executive decision to ignore that too. Acknowledging it would just give it more power. Or maybe that just applies to fear, not animals scoping out their next meal.

Is that why she’s calling me? Our twin telepathy chose this moment to activate, and she can feel I’m just seconds from bidding the world goodbye?

I quicken my pace. The leaves crunch under my shoes that are absolutely not made for an impromptu hike. Every noise makes my heart jump. I look down at the little dot on my screen that’s farther than I’d imagined when I decided to ditch my car. A drop of water plops down on my phone.

The rain is light, but still very inconvenient.

C’mon, Logan! What have you gotten yourself into?

A shadow moves across my periphery. I whip around to check. There’s nothing. Just darkness beyond the overgrown bushes and a cluster of large trees. I take a few steps toward it without thinking, like I’m being summoned by a siren call that has historically never turned out well for anyone.

My phone buzzes again, making me stop. I look down to find Logan’s name flashing on the screen.

I pick it up. “Where are you, Wes?” he barks in my ear.

“Uh…” I might or might not be dying just a few feet away from him, but is it really worth admitting I made this extremely stupid mistake? If I play this right, or wrong, depending on who you ask, I may never have to tell him anything.