Rogue Huntress Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Rogue Huntress

  Wolf Legacy, Volume 3

  Aimee Easterling

  Published by Wetknee Books, 2017.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  ROGUE HUNTRESS

  First edition. December 15, 2017.

  Copyright © 2017 Aimee Easterling.

  Written by Aimee Easterling.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 1

  Shifter teeth, human blood, glints of ivory against ravaged skin. I woke, gasping against the restraints that snugged limbs tight against my body, only to find my lupine form swaddled by ungainly human clothing. The pants and shirt had fit perfectly when I first fell asleep and would again as soon as I....

  “Ember, don’t shift back!”

  My mate’s voice cut through the haze of returning reality, his deep tones underlain by the sweet scents of chocolate cake donuts combined with his personal bouquet of books, sandalwood, and wolfless man. Blinking watery eyes against the soft light of evening, I wriggled out of no-longer-useful clothing and came erect on all four paws in the passenger seat of my deceased cousin’s SUV.

  Before us, three cops walked down a line of stopped vehicles toward us. A tough-looking woman, a guy so skinny he verged on emaciated, and the stereotypical donut eater. They didn’t look particularly menacing, but....

  “Wolves or humans?” Sebastien asked, his voice filling with grim urgency. And despite the necessity to focus on current danger, the question sent me spinning backwards into a memory so vivid it might as well have been a continuation of my recent dream.

  Blood sprayed across my body like the fine mist from a malfunctioning juicer, my cousin’s form disappearing within a maelstrom of spinning stones and chunks of ripped-apart asphalt. Sebastien slammed me into the ground to protect my fragile body. But my companion couldn’t block the sight of an exploding bomb taking out both a government compound and a family member I’d known for my entire life.

  Meanwhile, on the other side of a thin line of night-darkened trees, Dakota’s pack howled a promise that no innocent bystanders would survive the ordeal. None except me and my not-quite-mate....

  Not that Sebastien and I had been entirely innocent by the time we fled the scene of the crime. We’d slain four werewolves during the course of our own escape, and now both angry government agents and surly shifters were hot on our trail.

  These advancing officers could be either or neither, another danger to overcome or merely one final roadblock on our path to a safe spot to spend the night. It was impossible to tell which while the SUV’s encircling metal cut off all outside air....

  I whined and pawed at the side window, hoping Sebastien would understand my wordless plea. All day long I’d dodged his questions, this most recent descent into lupine form a symptom of my subconscious desire to shut out the relentless, if polite, interrogation that had flowed from the professor’s lips for hours on end. Going to sleep then donning fur had solved that problem at last. But now my lupine form meant I couldn’t communicate using much-needed human words. All I had was wolf skin and wide eyes that failed to convey the intensity of my distress.

  Only, the fickle bond that had proven no more than a liability for most of the preceding day must have clicked into gear while I slept. Because glass slid down without the necessity of words and air whooshed in to fill the space around me. I inhaled deeply then sighed out my relief. Humans. Dakota’s lackeys hadn’t found us quite yet.

  Unfortunately, my relief was short-lived. Even though no werewolves waited in the wings, these cops each wielded a hand-held computer into which they were keying other drivers’ identifying information. Unconsciously, my ears pinned back while a whimper emerged from my furry throat.

  SHRITA can’t find out we’re here.

  If given a choice between SHRITA and shifters, I have to admit that I would have chosen the wolves. Because government agents were remarkably effective despite lacking claws and fangs. They’d kidnapped my mate yesterday, had been implicated in the disappearance of my brother weeks before that, and might even now be hunting Sebastien if anyone managed to survive last night’s bloodbath.

  SHRITA also possessed full access to police databases. As a result, I couldn’t let the professor’s driver’s license fall into these police officers’ waiting hands.

  I tried sending that knowledge down the tether that tied me and Sebastien together. Tried...and failed as the phantom thread slipped away from my searching muzzle and disappeared into the void that kept us resolutely apart.

  Sebastien might have been able to guess that I wanted the window rolled down seconds earlier, but he wasn’t receiving my far more important transmission now. And how could I expect him to when our mate bond hung as loosey-goosey between us as a pan of uncooked custard?

  Chapter 2

  But we were given little leeway to worry about that worst-case scenario. Because the vehicle three cars in front of us pulled away with a grind of unhappy gears, leaving the uniformed female free to leapfrog her compatriots and stalk toward our waiting SUV. “Driver’s license and registration,” she demanded, eyes narrowing as she took in Sebastien’s nearly imperceptible hesitation to obey.

  So Sebastien was aware of our current danger despite the dulling effects of hours of driving combined with a severe deficit of sleep. I relaxed back onto my haunches even as my mate hastened to fumble through
paperwork in the glove compartment, giving the officer no further reason to doubt his good intent. “It’s right here,” he murmured. “I just need a minute to get it out....”

  Meanwhile, a wordless plan filtered from my companion down our mate bond so clearly it might as well have been a movie playing in my mind. Sebastien planned to charm the cop, to charm her then to sidetrack her with...donuts?

  I glanced down at the floorboards between us where a half-empty box of pastries lay tucked nearly out of view. Sebastien must have stopped to load up on sugar as I dozed away the journey. And while I appreciated his selection—all chocolate all the way—I didn’t see how rings of fried dough were going to get us out of this roadblock without relinquishing more information than we cared to divulge. Only in cartoons could cops be lured away from the scene of a crime with a donut dangling from the end of a homemade fishing pole....

  I couldn’t guess at Sebastien’s end game, but the first stages were clear in my mind. My lap, he murmured silently, actual words coming down the tether this time around. And I obeyed without question. Wriggling between the steering wheel and the professor’s rock-hard chest, I stretched upwards to lick sloppily at my human partner’s stubbled chin.

  To my surprise, the cop’s professional mask broke into a girlish smile at the display. “She’s a handful, isn’t she?” the female asked as Sebastien pretended to wrestle me aside in an attempt to reach the wallet sticking halfway out of his back pocket. I expected the policewoman to succumb to impatience as the two of us engaged in a dance so intricately intertwined that it might as well have been choreographed. But instead, the woman merely added: “How old is she?”

  “Old enough to know better,” my mate grumbled, his feigned embarrassment enough to force a real whine from my lupine lips. But while my animal half cringed at the counterfeit reproof, my rational human side was beginning to get an inkling of Sebastien’s plan at long last.

  Because there was a hint of canine tang to the officer’s nearby clothing. She owned pets—a neutered male and a spayed female dog if I had to guess. Which meant....

  “How about we just start with your name?” the policewoman prodded, pulling out the computer I’d hoped would somehow manage to slip from her fingers and shatter onto the pavement before she got ahold of our registration. Half of me thought that a cute and cuddly “dog” could perhaps be forgiven for lunging forward and prompting precisely that chain of events, but...

  ...Donut, the professor repeated for the second time that evening. And now I understood what Sebastien wanted with sublime clarity. His plan was not only brilliant, it was also tasty. Given that perfect combination of metaphorical and literal good taste, I gladly moved to oblige.

  Down onto the floor mat went my two front paws, up into the air went the top of the cardboard box, sliding into my mouth went the first donut out of six. Yum, chocolaty goodness, I thought, barking out a yip of crumbs and excitement even as I swallowed the sweet concoction in one great gulp. Donut, my wolf agreed, her voice silent yet smug.

  And as my psychology-professor mate had predicted, the female cop was far less sanguine about the encounter than I was. Losing track of words, job, and even that dratted computer, the female nearly fell through the window in an effort to snag a collar that wasn’t actually present around my furry throat.

  “A dog can’t eat chocolate!” the cop roared as she landed half in and half out of the vehicle.

  The struggle that ensued was as amusing as it was edifying. Sebastien twisted and turned so artfully that he managed to come up with no more than a handful of fur despite the fact I hadn’t moved out of his way quickly enough to prevent being caught. Then I was scampering in seamless synchrony, scarfing down donuts until a mere dog would have required the fast action of a vet.

  With every bite on my part, the female cop’s eyes grew rounder and her efforts to halt my feasting increased in intensity. “We have to stop her! Now!” the woman gasped.

  Her elbow came in contact with Sebastien’s jaw as she struggled to catch the tip of my tail. And pain ricocheted down the mate bond so severely I froze for a split second to ensure Sebastien hadn’t been seriously harmed.

  Luckily, the accidental contact had produced only a glancing blow...which hadn’t, I now noticed, prevented my mate from assembling an impressive array of props to finish setting the scene for our deception. Insurance and registration papers lay face up on the dashboard while a driver’s license had slid halfway out of the open wallet on the professor’s left knee. Together, the lineup of documentation proved we weren’t breaking any laws...but at the same time, Sebastien had made it abundantly clear that typing our data into one of those portable computers wasn’t going to be worthy of anyone’s time and attention.

  To ensure the law-enforcement officer got the message, Sebastien cleared his throat and looked the policewoman directly in the eyes. “I just need to start driving,” he explained breathlessly. “Ember knows to settle down once I get the SUV into gear....”

  For my part, I continued to wreak as much havoc as possible. Tearing into the cardboard box the donuts had come in, I chewed up a piece that did taste significantly better than it looked due to the saturation of sweets and oil. So that’s why the average dog continued consuming wrappings after running out of the food inside....

  And maybe it was the cardboard that did it. Whatever the reason, our ploy worked at last. “Go,” the lady cop told us, stepping backwards without another glance at papers that would have blown our cover wide open. She waved us onto the shoulder so we could bypass the pickup truck parked in front of us, then called out a final word of advice as we rolled away. “The vet on Third Street is open until seven....”

  “Thank you!” Sebastien answered, reaching over to settle his warm hand atop my furry forehead. True to the image filtering down the bond toward me, I’d settled obediently into the passenger seat as soon as the vehicle slipped into gear. Now, I smeared the passenger window with my nose as I barked a farewell to the trio of watching cops.

  And that’s how my mate and I circumvented a police roadblock armed with nothing more than a boxful of chocolate cake donuts. Our weapon of choice—and ability to work in tandem—were almost unbearably sweet.

  Chapter 3

  Unfortunately, our mate bond returned to its former state of noncompliance within the hour. I’d shifted back into human form as soon as we lost sight of the police barricade, but furless lips proved far less capable than lupine skin at bridging the chasm I’d recently created between myself and my mate.

  “Can you tell me about Dakota? Is she a criminal, a loose cannon, or someone with full blessing of the shifter government?” Sebastien asked, his words more tentative than they had any right to be. Because he was my mate. He shouldn’t have had to nibble around the edges of these enigmas like a lone wolf seeking a hole in a clan’s defensive perimeter.

  Still.... “I can’t,” I told him honestly, knowing even as I spoke that my companion would instead hear: “I won’t.”

  The trouble was—the shifters hunting us would execute Sebastien if they thought he possessed even a fraction of the information I’d already let slip. Tonight, we were heading toward a safe house where we could rest and lick our wounds for the foreseeable future. But we could only hide out there for so long. Eventually, I’d need to reenter shifter society and Sebastien would go back to his ordinary life...at which point the professor’s remaining naivety might be the only armor protecting his tender human skin.

  I couldn’t say any of that, though, without risking the precise ignorance I was trying to nurture. So we drove in silence for another endless hour, the sweetness of cake donuts gradually disappearing beneath the scent of my mate’s bitter frustration. And then, finally, Sebastien proved his tenacity by opening his mouth yet again.

  “Ember, I know you’re tired,” the professor murmured even as he skillfully followed the GPS’s directions and turned onto the tree-lined driveway leading toward our final destination. “But som
etime soon, we need to talk....”

  Meanwhile, his hand drifted down to settle upon my bare knee, ruining any impulse I might have harbored to keep him safely at arm’s length. Warmth, contact, precious unity. When we were physically touching, I could almost believe that Sebastien and I might find a way to make this unconventional relationship work against all odds. Could almost believe that the professor’s lack of an inner wolf wasn’t an impassable hurdle too tall for me to overcome. Almost....

  But then the SUV ground to a halt in front of a large white porch and my mate’s calloused fingers slipped aside so he could shift the vehicle into park. Reality asserted itself like a slap in the face and I peered down at my burner phone in an unlikely attempt to change the subject.

  Not that I expected rescue from that direction. After all, Sebastien and I had ditched our own personal devices hours ago in an attempt to prevent both sets of pursuers from tracing us to our current lair. The only person I’d contacted using this replacement phone had been my father...

  ...Who, true to form, had performed the hazardous errand I’d requested of him with ruthless alacrity. “Dad found it,” I breathed, excitement revving up blood that had slowed to near hibernation levels as we approached a safe place to spend the night.

  “Found your brother?” Sebastien demanded, interest in our previous line of discussion fading as he leaned forward to read over my shoulder.

  “The key was under the egg compartment as expected,” Dad informed us. “Decoding Derek’s message now. More information to follow.”

  Wolfie’s message was terse yet welcome. And, in response to the good news, the mate tether that had hung lax and ungainly between me and Sebastien only a moment earlier tightened up, relaying similar emotions emanating from the other end of the bond.

  My mate was exhausted after spending more than twenty-four hours avoiding guns and bombs and dangerous enemies. He was understandably wary of the secrets I continued hugging to my chest like a miser. But Sebastien was also committed to finding and protecting my kid brother while keeping me close by his side.