“Yeah, but we’re still on our land. Trust me, there’s going to be someone who wants to try to change that fact, if for nothing more than the bragging rights. The pack that knocks out the Silvercrest, even when we’re not at our best, will be one that makes others cower. After what happened between Eric and the Whiteclaw a few weeks ago, you know those bastards have to be drooling for it.”
Wyatt didn’t doubt that she was right. Eric had met his human wife while she was searching for her younger sister, Perry. Making a bad choice, Perry had gone chasing after the wrong guy and ended up falling in with the Whiteclaw pack who lived to the south of the Silvercrest. With the Runners’ help, Eric had been able to prove that the Whiteclaw had partnered up with the Donovans, a corrupt local Lycan family, on a number of illegal activities, the most horrific being one that involved human girls. With the Donovans’ support, the Whiteclaw had been drugging the girls and pimping them out for Lycan gang rapes. The drugs not only acted as an aphrodisiac on the girls, but also impaired their memories of the attacks. The Runners had managed to close down the strip club in Wesley, a human town at the foot of the mountains, that the Whiteclaw had been using to find the girls, but tensions between the two packs had never been higher. Roy Claymore, who led the Whiteclaw wolves, was thirsty for Silvercrest blood, and Wyatt knew it wouldn’t be long before the Silvercrest found themselves embroiled in battle.
“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, running a palm down his face to clear away the misting drops of rain. “I’ve got a feeling something’s coming down. Soon.”
There was a wry edge to Carla’s worried tone. “And here I thought you’d have nothing but butterflies in your belly after that little performance on the dance floor tonight. We were all damn near riveted by the steam coming off you two smoldering little lovebirds.”
Christ. Wondering how long it would be before Eric confronted him about his sister, he muttered, “I don’t have time for you to mess with my head right now, Reyes. I wanna check the area, see if anything’s around.”
“Okay. But if you find trouble, don’t be stupid,” she told him, all traces of teasing gone. “We’re gonna check out where the sighting took place after we’re done in town, so we won’t be far. Call me before you go charging in like a bull or I’ll never let you live it down.”
“You never let me live anything down,” he grunted, ending the call before she could come back with another smart-ass remark.
Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Wyatt pushed away from the tree and began making his way through the woods, careful to keep one eye on Elise’s house. He’d learned the hard way when he was younger to always trust his instincts, and right now they were shouting at him that something wasn’t right. The restlessness of his inner wolf told him that the beast agreed. He drew in a series of slow, deep breaths, but the slight mist of rain made it impossible to pick up any trace of Lycan musk, the damp affecting his keen sense of smell. If there were someone out there with him, he was going to have to find him using good old-fashioned tenacity and skill.
Wyatt almost relished the thought of getting his hands on the trespasser, thinking a good knock-’em-down, claw-’em-up scuffle was exactly what he needed to work out his frustration. And if the bastard came anywhere near Elise, he was going to get more than a fight.
If he so much as set foot on her property, Wyatt was going to personally send him straight to hell.
* * *
Breathe in, breathe out. In...out. Slow and easy.
Setting her purse and car keys on her kitchen table, Elise rolled her head over her shoulders, repeating the silent mantra while wondering if her heart rate would ever return to normal. The drive back up to Shadow Peak tonight had seemed to take twice as long as it usually did, her hands damp against the steering wheel, the rhythmic slapping of the windshield wipers keeping perfect timing with the frenzied rate of her pulse.
Considering she was reeling from one innocent dance, she couldn’t deny that Wyatt Pallaton certainly had a way of playing havoc with a woman’s equilibrium.
By the time she’d spun around on the dance floor, ready to tell him to stay the hell away from her, he was gone. Needing to get out of there, she’d found Eric and Chelsea and told them she wasn’t feeling well, then immediately headed home. Now all she wanted was to run a hot bath, put on some soothing music and soak in her tub, doing her best to forget about the man who had practically seduced her with nothing more than a smoldering look.
And the way he’d called her El had damn near made her melt.
Shivering with the decadent memory of every huskily spoken word he’d said to her, she moved to the counter and opened a cupboard, taking down a tall glass and filling it with ice-cold water from the door in her refrigerator. She tilted her head back and took a long drink, then pressed the chilled glass against her forehead, her thoughts in turmoil. Why her, damn it? There were no doubt dozens of single women in Shadow Peak who would have been ecstatic at the prospect of drawing his eye, regardless of his Runner status. But for some insane reason, Wyatt seemed to have singled her out, and she had no idea why. Was he one of those macho jerks who got off on a challenge? Had he been dared? Was this all just some kind of cruel, sick joke to him?
Cut it out, her conscience lectured. He isn’t like that, and you damn well know it.
“What I know is that I’m going out of my mind,” she grumbled into the lonely silence of the house. Hating that awful silence, she’d just lifted the glass to her lips again, when someone softly knocked on the kitchen door that opened onto her carport. Startled, she flinched, sending water sloshing over the side of the glass and onto the tiled floor. Taking a hesitant step forward, she asked, “Who is it?”
“Elise?” a deep, familiar voice called out. “It’s me, Eddie.”
Setting the glass down on the counter, she lifted her hands, pressing her fingertips to her temples, unable to deny the slight twinge of disappointment fluttering in her chest. Had she actually hoped that it might be Wyatt at her door? How freaking crazy was that?
“Elise? Are you okay?”
“Just a second, Eddie,” she muttered, reaching for a dish towel to mop up the floor. Damn it, she was too tired for this. Too tense. Too everything to deal with her well-meaning if slightly obsessed neighbor tonight.
Several weeks ago, not long after Eric had first met Chelsea, Elise had come home from work one day and found her kitchen door slightly open, when she was always careful to lock up when she left. She’d been receiving threatening phone calls for some time and had been worried someone was inside, waiting for her. When her neighbor, Eddie Browning, had come home from work at his stepfather’s garage and found her lingering on the doorstep, he’d searched the house for her to make sure no one was hiding inside, and then she’d thanked him and sent him home. But there’d been a lingering vibe in the air that had completely freaked her out. Nervous and scared, she’d tried to have someone from the pack-run security offices in town come over to take a look, but they’d refused. So she’d contacted Eric, asking him for help, but he also hadn’t been able to detect an intruder’s scent. Then all hell had broken loose when an angry crowd had gathered in front of her house, and a jackass named Glenn Farrow had publicly accused her of making the whole thing up in some kind of bizarre plea for attention. The crowd had joined in, and the accusations had grown ugly, bred by lingering animosity toward her father. Eric had kicked Farrow’s ass, and the bastard had thankfully given her a wide berth ever since.
Shaken by the experience, Elise had made plans to have a new alarm system installed the following afternoon. Eddie, however, had proven to be even better than her security system, keeping a watchful eye on her property for what seemed like all hours of the day. The only problem was that he claimed to see someone snooping around her house on a regular basis, and now she rarely put any stock in his claims. He was a nice young man, and she knew he meant well, but she also knew he was easily confused...and she couldn’t help but wish that he’d be just a little less focused on her life.
Stepping to the door, she pulled back the short curtain that