The Culler and Her Devil

Chapter 2—The Devil’s Taste

He moved faster than a bullet. One second he was ten feet away, the next he slammed directly into my chest. The impact blew the air clean out of my lungs and my boots skidded across the mud.

The Academy’s training kicked in before my brain could register the shock; I dropped my center of gravity, bringing my left elbow around in a sharp arc aimed straight for his jaw.

It felt like hitting a steel pillar and the force rattled up my arm to my shoulder, but it gave me just enough space to raise my sidearm. I squeezed the trigger.

The muzzle flash bloomed bright white in the torrential downpour. The silver-composite round should have taken him right in the lower abdomen, but he twisted mid-air with impossible agility. The bullet tore clean through his jacket, grazing his hip, and ricocheted off a tree root behind him.

A heavy, calloused hand shot out of the dark, locking around my wrist, pain flared instantly as he squeezed, forcing my fingers to numbly release the gun, and it splashed uselessly into the mud below.

"f*****g human," he growled. His voice was low, laced with absolute hatred.

The feeling was mutual.

He shoved me backward, driving my spine hard against the trunk of the oak tree. The rough bark bit into my back through my tactical jacket. Before I could reach for the combat knife strapped to my thigh, he pressed his entire weight against me, pinning my upper body. His free hand slammed against the wood right beside my ear, sealing me in.

He was suffocatingly close and heat rolled off his skin in waves, defying the freezing rain pouring over us. Up close, his scent hit me; it was a potent mix of pine, ozone, wet earth, and something else. It made my blood hum.

His golden eyes burned through the dark, pupils slit like a wild animal's, fixing on mine. The jagged scar along his jawline stood out starkly against his golden-brown skin.

"You shouldn't have come back, little Culler," he rasped, his breath hot against my wet cheek. Fangs clicked against his lower lip as he spoke.

I bared my teeth right back at him. "You're trespassing on a Directorate crime scene, wolf. Hand over whatever you just stole from the mud, or I'll make sure the next round goes between your eyes."

A dark, mocking chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Always so quick to threaten.” He leaned in closer, his nose brushing the shell of my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. He inhaled deeply, his grip on my wrist tightening just a fraction. "You smell like blood... and another man's sweat."

My jaw clenched. "Let go of me."

"Or what?" He brought his face back in front of mine, his golden gaze dropping to my lips before rising back to my eyes with an intense, possessive disdain. "You're in my woods now, Operative Locke. I could snap your throat before your boots hit the dirt."

"Try it," I spat, and used the brief distraction to drive my knee straight up into his groin. I wasn’t surprised he knew who I was…they all f*****g did and for good reason. I was the f*****g reaper.

He caught my knee with his thigh just in time, but the sudden shift in momentum gave me the lever I needed. I slammed my forehead directly into the bridge of his nose and his head snapped back with a low grunt.

The pressure on my wrist slackened for a split second, and I didn't waste it. I twisted out of his grip, dropped to a low squat, and swept my leg out, catching him at the ankles. He went down on one knee in the mud, but he didn't stay there. He rose like a demon rising from hell, his claws fully extended, his jaw opening into a terrifying roar as his form began to warp. The bones in his shoulders cracked and shifted to unleash his full wolf.

I unholstered my reserve taser from my lower belt, aimed, and fired. The two silver prongs sank into his chest, delivering a high-voltage payload designed to drop a full-grown Alpha. Voltage crackled bright purple across his torso and he roared in pain, sinking back to both knees as his muscles violently spasmed under the current.

I took two quick steps back, reaching into the mud to retrieve my dropped sidearm. "Stay down!" I shouted over the thunder.

Through the electrical arc, he locked his glowing eyes on me. With a guttural snarl, he reached up with his bare hand, grabbed the live wires, and ripped the prongs clean out of his chest, snapping the cord.

My heart hammered against my ribs but before I could chamber another round into my sidearm, he pushed off the ground and plunged into the dense, black thicket of Blackwood Forest.

"Stop!" I yelled, giving chase for ten paces into the heavy brush. But he was already a shadow and the sound of his heavy strides faded into the pounding rain within seconds.

I stood alone in the dark, my chest heaving, water dripping from the barrel of my gun into the mud.

"f**k," I swore under my breath, wiping the rain and sweat from my forehead with the back of my gloved hand.

I walked back to the oak tree, my pulse slowly settling back. I searched the mud where he had been crouching. The rain was rapidly washing away the tire tracks and foot impressions, but there was no mistaking it: he had deliberately returned to this exact spot to retrieve something the forensics team had missed.

A piece of evidence? Was he the killer? Highly likely, the man had the reputation of the devil.

I stood up straight, holstering my weapon.

If I reported this to the Directorate right now, Director Harlow would deploy two full squads of heavy Cullers to burn down the border settlements. The entire sector would go into lockdown, the packs would riot, and the investigation would turn into a bloody political circus. Worse... I would have to admit to the Director that I had Noxen's Devil trapped against a tree, and I let him escape.

“f**k!”

This was my case and the Devil wanted to play in the dark? Fine. I would track him down myself and tear whatever he stole out of his cold hands, and put him in a cage where he belonged.

I turned on my heel, heading back toward my sedan parked on the lonely road. By the time I pulled into the underground garage of my apartment building, it was nearly 4:00 AM. I peeled off my soaked tactical jacket in the elevator, my wrist already swollen and purple where his fingers had locked around me. The scent of pine and rain still clung stubbornly to my collar.

The apartment was empty; Tom was gone, leaving only his empty bourbon glass on the kitchen counter and the unmade sheets on my bed. Just the way I liked it.

I walked straight to the bathroom, turning on the hot water until steam filled the glass mirror. I stripped off my clothes, stepped under the scalding spray, and let the water wash the Blackwood mud down the drain.

As I washed my face, I leaned my hands against the wet tile, staring down at the drain. Every time I closed my eyes, I didn't see the mutilated body of the female wolf. No, I saw those glowing, golden eyes. I felt the suffocating heat of his body pressed against mine.

Noxen's Devil.

“f**k!”