Night Wolves: Volume One

1 Damon wandered around the outskirts of the boisterous party, amused at how eager humans were to drink and dance near a precarious bonfire. This was his last night in town, and luckily it fell on the same evening as this event—whatever it was. One of the humans had called it tailgating. He didn’t understand the significance. No matter. He held an empty cup in his hand, just to blend in. One thing and one thing alone would tempt him tonight. Across the fire, a group of young women were preening, pretending they didn’t notice him watching. Out of the few that didn’t reek of cheap liquor, he couldn’t decide which seemed the worthy conquest. Who would let him go further? The blonde, or the one with pink braids? He smiled at the group, baring his human form’s perfect white teeth and running a hand through his short black hair. Whichever one he asked to join him, he wanted to show his wild side. Always a risk, but then again, he wouldn’t see this town again. The bonfire popped, and as a log settled, a fresh burst of heat escaped. Those closest to it stepped back, and a fresh layer of laughter rang out. Side-stepping a drunken frat boy, Damon tossed his cup aside and flipped a coin in his mind. Heads—pink braids. Tails—the blonde. The frat boy doubled-back and collided with Damon, but before he could push the fool away, a strange scent tickled his nostrils. Leaning down, he sniffed the young man’s pink collar. “Hey, what the f**k?” the frat boy slurred. He tried to slap Damon away, but Damon took hold of his shirt and pulled him close. “Who were you with?” Damon asked. “Huh? Look, what? I was just playing with—” “Who?” Damon growled. The man pointed a shaking hand across the bonfire. “Charlotte.” Damon narrowed his eyes at the lone woman seated at a picnic table beyond the pointed finger. He took a deep breath. Lupine? But what was she doing here? He dropped the man and shoved him away before stalking towards the tables and benches in the shadows. As he approached, the woman glanced up with a confused expression. He froze, not wanting to startle her. He’d never run into another lupine flying solo, so to speak. There were only so many explanations for her to be here, and yet he immediately crossed off the chance that she was a runner like himself. Something about her smelled… lost. She looked around, eyes only catching him for a moment, and returned to staring down at the table. Several cans surrounded her, but she didn’t appear drunk by any means. She seemed bored, and she kept rearranging the thin blue strap of her tank top, which kept falling down. The wind shifted, blowing through his hair and ruffling his shirt. Again, the young woman lifted her head. This time she stared at him. He waited for recognition, a look that would tell him she knew what he was, but it never came. Instead, she looked unnerved. Frightened, even. She rose and walked briskly away, her short black skirt ruffling in the breeze. Her tiny form, five feet of delicate curves and lean muscle, disappeared between the trees lining a path. Stumped, Damon didn’t rush to follow. There were no active packs in this region. He’d made sure to check before passing through the area. Was she doing the same? Passing through? Again, something told him no. She could be an outcast, but it took a lot to get tossed from the pack. She didn’t look the type. He walked to the table where she’d sat and sucked in a deep breath. Her scent was a sweet mixture, like berries and midnight, and carried an odor of wolf. He followed its trail down a winding path from the bonfire and revelry to a dark building. Earlier in the day, he’d seen the humans using the grills inside this place. The building was shaped like a cabin, but only one side had a full wall. It was more open space than anything else. Was she trying to hide, though? The thrill of hunting her plucked a wild chord within him. His wolf rose, eager to play this game. Perhaps that’s what she wanted, then. Females of his kind loved the thrill of a chase. He stood still and took in the sounds of the night while his eyes adjusted and searched the darkness. Given the sharpness of his night vision, the sun may as well have been out. Her light, breathy pants made his adrenaline spike, and he followed the sound to find her crouched behind a counter. It wasn’t much of a game after all. Up close, he admired the long black hair that fell around her face like a silky curtain. The hunt didn’t last, but she was still a nice find. “Poor spot to hide,” he commented, slightly disappointed. She gasped, and her pounding heart echoed in his sensitive ears. “What do you want?” “I thought—” He let it drop. The fear in her tone confused him, and her gently angled eyes glittered as if they held back tears. He lowered his voice. “Never mind that. Charlotte, right? Are you okay?” She stared up at him like she expected him to hurt her, filling him with unease. He’d never encountered a scared female like this. Her gaze darted around. “Please, just leave me alone, okay? I don’t know what you are or who you are but, I won’t say a word. Just leave me.” Damon squatted down, assuming his over six-foot frame did little to ease her discomfort. At eye level, he raised his hands, displaying his empty palms. A sign of showing no aggression, something he’d seen the humans do. “What I am? I’m like you.” “Your eyes are glowing. Like fire,” she whispered. “Are you a monster like me?” He sat back. Is she serious? “Sister?” he asked. “Where is your pack?” She shook her head. “You mean my purse? I don’t have anything.” Damon scrubbed a hand over his face. Was it possible? Didn’t she know what she was? He reached for her hand, but she flinched away. “I’m not going to hurt you. We need to talk.” She nodded, but her already racing pulse sped more. Her body slumped forward, landing against his outstretched arms. She fainted?