Mate Bond(27)

The mud sucked at her, and Kenzie pulled herself out, losing one of her running shoes in the process.

To hell with that. Kenzie kept going, shedding clothes as she ran. She  was leaving a trail, but it didn't matter. She needed to change from  hunted to hunter.

She heard Bowman's growl behind her and then a great gray wolf bounded  past her, Bowman back at full strength. Kenzie's vision changed in the  next seconds as her wolf took over.

She smelled the hunter now, a human who'd been sitting all night in the  woods, his faint odor coating the others in the air. She scented the  acrid smells of gunpowder and metal, heard the ping of bullets on trees  and in the dirt.

Kenzie put her head down and ran. Her wolf could eat up miles before she  tired, could run hard without losing breath. Her paws scrabbled for  purchase on rocks as she followed Bowman up a hill.

He led her below a ridgeline so that their silhouettes would not be  outlined against the sky. The moon was setting, but the sun would rise  soon. Their only hope was to find a thick tumble of rocks, or brush so  thick their forms would be blurred. Better still would be to take  themselves completely elsewhere.

Bowman stopped below a rocky outcropping, his low growl barely  discernible from the wind in the trees. He wanted to go up and over.

He sank to his haunches and began to crawl on his belly. Kenzie imitated  him. Felines were better at slinking, but wolves could be pretty good  at it too.                       
       
           



       

They slid over the rocks, grit and frozen weeds catching in Kenzie's fur. She wanted to sneeze but didn't dare.

Over the ridge, down the other side. The trees were thicker here, the  darkness more complete. Bowman picked up into a run, flowing down the  hill in perfect silence.

Where they were, Kenzie had no idea. She and Bowman had explored the  wild lands around Shiftertown plenty, but a wolf could only patrol so  much, even with trackers. Then again, Bowman might know exactly where  they were-he often went off alone, leaving Kenzie to guard Shiftertown.

No more bullets whizzed around them, at least. Bowman slowed after a  time and stopped, lifting his head to sniff the air. Kenzie also  sniffed, catching unfamiliar scents, both woodsy and human.

Bowman shook himself. He sat down, his tongue lolling, but his ears and eyes alert.

Kenzie lifted her paw to look in annoyance at the thorn wedged deep  between the pads. She closed her teeth around it, and found another  muzzle against her own. Bowman nudged his way in, licking her paw to  soothe it. The gesture was caring, even in the middle of their flight.

Kenzie nuzzled him, and Bowman made a noise low in his throat. They were  alone together out here, the two of them against the night. The mate  bond didn't matter right now. Their knowledge of each other and mutual  trust did.

The thorn dislodged from Kenzie's paw. Kenzie licked Bowman's ear in  thanks, and he shook his head, as though embarrassed he'd been caught  enjoying licky-cuddles.

He turned from Kenzie and trotted off into the woods. Kenzie came behind  him, a few steps from his tail. If this were a more playful time, she  might have lunged forward and grabbed his tail with her teeth, just to  annoy him, but playfulness would have to wait.

The scent of human grew stronger. Bowman halted, Kenzie swerving to halt  beside him. She looked past him and saw why he'd stopped.

They stood on the edge of a clearing. Within it was a small, narrow  house-a mobile home that had been fixed on a permanent foundation. A  wooden step led to the front door, which was flanked by two windows. A  round barbecue with a dirty grill sat quietly beside the doorstep, and  the scent of lighter fluid and burned meat lingered.

Kenzie caught another scent she couldn't place. She had the feeling she  should be able to recognize it, but either she was mistaken, or it was  so covered with something else its identity eluded her.

Bowman's nose wrinkled, and he inhaled deeply. He must have noticed it too.

As they debated in wolf language whether they should approach, the screen door of the house creaked open.

"I know you're out there," a man's voice said. A shotgun poked its way  out the door, followed by a human bundled in a thick jacket. The gun, as  far as Kenzie could make out, had no nightscope attached. "I need you  where I can see you."

Bowman rumbled a low growl, which meant Kenzie should remain behind, then he walked slowly into the clearing.

The starlight that filtered down showed a regal gray wolf, ears pricked,  head up, unafraid. Kenzie tensed, ready to spring the moment the man's  trigger finger so much as twitched.

The shotgun lowered, and spectacles flashed as the man peered more  closely at Bowman. "Hello, my friend," he said. "Tell me, are you Canis  lupus? Or Canis lupus shifterensius?"





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN




Kenzie watched from the shadows as Bowman shifted back to human.

He did it slowly, drawing out the process for greatest effect. His back  legs grew thick and strong, his body straightening as he changed. By the  time he was standing upright, his arms and legs were human, and his fur  receding. His head shifted last, his wolf face flattening to human.

His eyes remained the same, gray white and fixed on the man in the clearing.

"It's Shifter," Bowman said clearly. "There's no such thing as Canis lupus shifterensius."

"There is now," the man said. "A new classification has been approved by  the scientific journals. A new one for your Felines and your bears as  well."

His voice bore the faint soft drawl of a Southerner, from coastal South  Carolina, Kenzie surmised. He sounded cultured, educated-he should be  lounging in his sophisticated house in the city with swimming pool, not  roughing it in the backwoods. Why he was out here, she couldn't guess.

"Were you the one shooting at us?" Bowman asked in a stern voice.

"No." The man sounded surprised. "Is someone shooting? Thanks for the warning."

He didn't seem to be at all bothered by Bowman's lack of clothing.  Bowman didn't move, assessing the man and his threat level, as did  Kenzie from the shadows of the trees.

"Why don't you and your friend come inside?" the man asked. He uncocked  the shotgun and slung it over his arm. "I've got coffee going. Also  blankets, if your Shifter friend is shy."                       
       
           



       

"Do you have a phone?" Bowman asked, not hurrying to obey.

"I do. I have to tell you, though, sometimes it works; sometimes it  doesn't. But you're welcome to try." He opened the door and gestured  Bowman inside.

"Bring the blankets first," Bowman said.

"Sure thing." The man stepped up into the house. When he returned, he  was minus the gun and had an armful of thin fleece blankets. He flipped  on a porch light, walked to Bowman in its yellow glare, and put the  blankets into Bowman's hands. "My name's Turner. Wayne Turner. Would you  happen to be Bowman O'Donnell?"

Bowman's hands closed on the blankets. "Do you prefer it if I am?"

"I study Shifters," Turner said. "In a good way. I know that Bowman  O'Donnell is the leader of the local Shiftertown. Your picture gets in  the papers. So, you are either him or his twin brother, and you don't  have a twin brother."

"You're right; I'm Bowman. My mate, Kenzie." Bowman didn't gesture, but  Kenzie knew the signal to walk out of the woods. Still wolf, she joined  him, sat down next to Bowman, and gazed up at Turner.

Turner returned the look, interest in his blue eyes behind his glasses.  "If it doesn't offend you, can I say she's beautiful? A Romanian gray  wolf, right? A number of them survived in the wild lands, didn't they?"

"They did," Bowman said.

"Her eyes are different. Tawny rather than blue or gray. Means she's from a different strain, different pack."

"Yes, we know."

Turner grinned. "Sorry, I don't often get the opportunity to see  Shifters close up. I've talked to a few, but I know that coming to  Shiftertown and grilling you is rude. I'll try to contain my curiosity.  Come on in when you're ready."

He turned his back on them and walked away. Bowman bristled, but Kenzie  knew Turner didn't show his back to be insulting, like Uncle Cris did.  The man had no idea what the gesture meant.

Bowman, carrying the blankets, walked with Kenzie under the cover of the  trees, away from the circle of porch light, and waited for her to  shift. When she was finished, he wordlessly handed her a blanket.

Kenzie wrapped it around her, glad of its protection in the sudden chill. "Are we really going in there?"

Bowman lifted one shoulder in a shrug. He'd folded a blanket and wrapped  it around his waist like a bath towel. With it hugging his hips, he  looked good enough to eat.