Dark Wolf Adrift by Aimee Easterling

Author:Aimee Easterling
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: urban fantasy, werewolf action, wolf shifter series, urban fantasy series, shapeshifter, EOD, SEAL, military fantasy, alpha hero, alpha male
Publisher: Wetknee Books
Published: 2017-02-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

There were no guards. No wolf-form shifters sniffing the air. Not even any two-leggers alert enough to notice my approach.

In fact, I’m pretty sure I would have been able to tiptoe around the perimeter without anyone being the wiser if I hadn’t noticed a kid toddling away from his parents. The boy was old enough to walk...barely...and I found myself pausing to make sure he didn’t wander too far and end up hurt before his merrymaking elders clued in to his absence.

Junior Junior. My nose informed me of the child’s identity long before I would have made the connection with my naked eyes. If the similar aromas were anything to go by, this was Stormwinder’s grandson and likely also the son of the male who had pounced on my back a few days prior.

Blood will tell. Because the kid appeared to be just as intrepid as his forefathers. Rather than remaining close to the gaggle of womenfolk who kept the pack’s other youngsters restricted to a small patch of well-mown lawn, Junior Junior was heading directly for the bushes in my general direction. And despite his auspicious heritage, no one had yet noticed the youngster’s jailbreak.

I caught the flash of a white rabbit tail at the same moment the boy did, then nearly laughed as the toddler attempted to pounce with entirely human teeth and nails. The bunny eluded his grasp easily, but the child pulled himself back erect and staggered off in not-so-hot pursuit.

The slow-motion game of tag might have gone on indefinitely had the child’s third pounce not landed him in entirely the wrong position. I’d found myself padding ever closer as Junior Junior staggered on an intercept course with my own planned route. So I was only twenty feet distant when he began to scream bloody murder.

The sounds of gaiety from the nearby picnic stilled, but I couldn’t be bothered with glancing back over my shoulder to see who would come to the kid’s rescue. Instead, I frantically scanned the boy’s tear-stained face, trying to figure out what was wrong.

Had he skinned his knee? Fallen on a thorn? Or had something much worse taken down the third generation of Stormwinders?

There. The dive-bombing insect heading directly for the kid’s face was apparently the second in a long string of yellow-jackets scrambling out of a hole in the ground by his feet. Having dealt with more than my fair share of stinging insects during my wild youth, I knew yellow-jackets were second only to paper wasps in pure agony-inducing defensive capabilities.

In other words, they hurt like hell. And if the kid was allergic, his first sting might already be one too many.

So I closed the distance between us in a few quick strides. As predicted, the yellow-jackets changed tactics when faced with a taller intruder, zooming toward my face instead of bombarding Junior Junior’s. Good. Their moment of confusion gave me the opportunity to stuff the kid halfway under my shirt before dashing for the safety of Stormwinder’s residence.

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