“Why do I smell…” said a large blur of a man at the door. My attention wasn’t on him. This was my chance. I wouldn’t get this close again.
Clint spun in slow motion toward me, too late to react. My feline body uncoiled, pouncing on him. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of my teeth sinking into the soft tissue of his neck. I ripped it out in a large chunk. Clint made a gurgling sound as blood sprayed across the room.
Whirling in the air, my paws hit the floor and I leapt toward the balcony.
“Shoot her,” a voice snarled.
I smelled wolf. Goddammit.
Leaping from the balcony, I spread my limbs out and willed the shift again. Paws stretched and shrank into feathery wings. The air took hold and the exhilaration of flight lifted me. I soared away in victory. Aloft in the dark night. Free.
An unexpected burst of pain blasted through my right wing. Wha...? They shot me! My breath caught and a sudden coldness hit my core. The air whistled past feather and bone, spiralling my body out of control as I plummeted toward the ground. My heartbeat thrashed in my ears, and my lungs locked as I fought to correct my alignment, somehow managing to aim my damaged body toward the forested park area the hotel bordered.
The sting of snapping branches and the intense pain of the bullet wound vibrated through me before I felt the cold, hard impact of the ground.
Chapter Two
Cold spring air laden with the rich loamy smell of earth and sweet cherry blossoms scraped my lungs as I sucked it in. The muscles around my chest constricted like a synched-up corset and made breathing difficult. I couldn’t do it fast enough to fill the empty feeling inside. Slowly, I drew in more air, one breath at a time, and one stabbing pain to the heart at a time. Then, the clamp around my lungs released and the tang of pine and fresh blood flooded my senses.
I pried my eyelids open and winced. Dirt caught and scratched against my eyeballs. My tear ducts kicked into overdrive and I fluttered my lashes against the damp ground, trying to get the muck out. Sharp pebbles dug into my face. I brushed them away when I lifted my head. And stopped. Blood covered my hands. I sat up and held them out, spreading my fingers. The blood stuck to my skin, partially dried and muddled with grime. Mine? Clint’s?
My upper arm throbbed. An angry swell of damaged tissue surrounded a gaping bullet hole. Though shifting would’ve healed the wound a bit, it still burned. I twisted my arm back and forth to look at the injury more closely. At least it had gone straight through. I prodded around the tender damage from the bullet’s exit and winced.
A deep boom thundered overhead. I glanced up and the night sky glared back, dark and ominous. Storm coming. Time to go. Locals nicknamed this city Raincouver for a reason.
Pulling my feet under my body, I straightened slowly to a standing position. My shoulders and thighs ached like I’d been in a football training camp. A dank earthy taste filled my mouth. I turned to the side and spat out dark brown soil and pebbles, leaving my mouth dry and gritty. I ran my tongue over my front teeth and spat again.
The forest remained silent—too silent. Only wind whistled through the leaves.
At least I didn’t have to worry about witnesses. A naked woman covered with blood, face planted into the dirt tended to make the news. My body sometimes shifted back on its own during sleep or when I lost consciousness. I didn’t know why.
The wind changed direction and a new smell hit me. Wolves. They must’ve seen where I landed. I needed to get out of here, and fast. A ripple of pain traveled down my body and my sleek feline fur replaced naked flesh.
Another crash of thunder rocked the air, followed by a streak of lightning. The storm moved closer. My claws dug into the sodden bark as I scampered up the nearest tree, moving with as much grace as my injury allowed, through the canopy, tree to tree. I could trust my strongest and most agile form, the mountain lion.
A wolf howled in the distance, punching through the silent night—to the south. Another answered to the east. They were closing in. No doubt they also came from the other two directions, but remained silent. That’s where they wanted me to go—herding me, hunting me as a pack.
That was fast. A Werewolf pack on call? From the beginning, nothing about this assignment seemed right. Maybe Clint hadn’t been so normal after all.
Then what was he?
During The Purge, a series of natural disasters and deadly viruses had swept the world. As the fragile human population declined, the death defying presence of the supernatural led to one preternatural group after another being exposed—Werewolves, Vampires, Fae, Demons, Skinwalkers, Witches, Angels, everything from our dreams to our nightmares. Pandora’s Box had opened.