Chapter 4 Blood's Fragrance

It smelled like rain-soaked dirt and something darker, and the air was thick that night. I gazed into the shadowy woods that surrounded my new existence from the back porch of my little home. It was too quiet in the town.

There was a problem.

I took a big breath, my senses more acute than I wanted to acknowledge. The tiniest trace of blood lingered in the atmosphere, almost obliterated by the piney, wet wind. As memories of the past that I had buried with all of my effort threatened to resurface, my heart sped.

However, it was not the moment to be afraid. There was danger out there, and it was real and not far away.

I was about to reach for my phone when I was startled by a loud crash coming from the woods. I paused, listening with my breath held. Once again, there was the sound-a low growl, then the distinct thud of heavy footfall.

Wolves.

It had been three years since I last saw a wolf. I had persuaded myself that I was secure among others and that they had forgotten about me. The strong, metallic smell of the air, however, warned me differently.

My bare feet sank into the damp grass as I walked off the porch and picked up the knife I kept by the entrance. With each step becoming quieter than the previous, I made my way nearer the wood's edge, my pulse pounding.

I had no desire to move. Since the day I left the Moonshadow Pack after Kieran's rejection, I hadn't changed. In order to shift, I had to embrace the part of myself that still longed for what I had lost and wanted to forget.

However, I became aware that I may not have an option as I got closer to the cause of the disturbance.

The first wolf, its growling jaws snapping inches from my face, leaped out of the darkness. I staggered back, stabbing the knife violently. The wolf yelled as the blade made contact, backing off just enough for me to get my bearings.

It wasn't isolated.

Another pair of wolves appeared, their eyes gleaming with a savage hunger that chilled my bones. Rogues. Untethered, chaotic, and completely lacking the pack attachments that characterized our breed, their smell was unmistakable.

My thoughts racing, I tightened my grasp on the knife. I couldn't repel them in this manner. Not as human.

The lead wolf lunged once again as a low roar reverberated through the air. I just escaped before being knocked to the ground by the ferocity of its onslaught. The knife escaped my grasp and fell into the shadows.

My chest ached with panic.

Then it occurred.

The change was all-consuming and relentless, like a tidal wave. The sheer strength of the metamorphosis caused my muscles to stretch and twist, my bones to fracture and reconfigure, and the air to shimmer.

The world seemed crisper and sharper as I opened my eyes. Despite the overpowering smell of blood and horror, I felt energized rather than paralyzed.

With a savage growl, I hurled myself at the closest outlaw. Its blood spattered hot across my clothing as my claws tore through its fur. The others pushed in, around me with vicious purpose, but it yelled and fell back.

One of the wolves lunged at my neck. I caught it in midair and slammed it to the ground as I whirled. It moaned and scurried away as my fangs dug into its shoulder.

However, the battle was far from over.

The lead rogue called for help with a howl. My chest began to flame with panic. I was unable to accept them all. Not by themselves.

The first troops had just arrived when a fresh fragrance broke through the confusion. Like embers smoking in a fire, it was black and smoky.

Lucian.

His wolf form was sleek and muscular as he stepped out of the shadows like a predator pursuing its prey. His eyes were glowing so intensely that the rogues fled in terror, and his fur was midnight black.

He let forth a single, rumbling snarl and charged into the battle.

Like a well-oiled machine, we battled together. With ruthless efficiency, he snapped his teeth around the neck of one renegade. I did the same, cutting through another with my claws. The rest of the wolves paused, their self-assurance faltering beneath our united might.

Lucian turned to face me, his gaze meeting mine. The world appeared to pause for a time. We had a raw, electrifying, and terrifyingly genuine link that was different from the mate bond I had with Kieran.

The last rogue leaped at Lucian before I could comprehend what was happening. I threw myself between them without thinking. The rogue's fangs dug into my skin, causing an explosion of pain in my side.

With a ferocious power I was unaware was conceivable, Lucian yelled and tore the rogue off me. With a horrible thud, the wolf's dead, limp corpse struck the ground.

The sound of our frantic breathing was the only sound in the woods.

First to change, Lucian's human form sprang out of the shadows with a dexterity that befitted years of training. His body was smeared with blood and glistened with perspiration, and he was nude. But he kept his gaze fixed on me.

"You're hurt," he stated in a harsh but worried voice.

Reluctantly, I moved back and fell to my knees as my side ache intensified. "I'll be alright," I clenched my teeth and muttered.

In a moment he stood before me, his hands firm and warm as they examined the wound. "You know you're stubborn?"

My body shook from the adrenaline rush, but I managed a feeble chuckle. "I've been informed."

Lucian's eyes became softer, and he made an incredibly gentle move with his thumb, grazing my face. "You shouldn't have been by yourself out here."

I replied, "I can take care of myself," but my words lacked confidence.

With a sly smile, he briefly looked at my lips before returning his attention to me. "Obviously."

Unquestionably and intensely, the tension between us crackled. His fingers traced the edge of my jaw, leaving a lasting impression.

I started to say, "Lucian," but as he drew in closer, my voice trailed off.

He whispered, his breath warm on my skin, "I saw you shift." "I could see the power and fire in your eyes. You're not simply a nurse in a tiny town trying to hide. You are far more than that.

As his words took hold and the weight of his stare imprisoned me, my pulse raced.

Then he gave me a kiss.

It was neither tentative nor kind. It was aggressive and demanding, as if he had been suppressing his emotions for too long. His lips found mine, and his hands entwined themselves in my hair, drawing me nearer.

I briefly forgot about the past, the agony, and the rogues. His ability to make me feel alive, desired, and noticed was all that counted.

However, the sound of a howl in the distance broke the moment.

Glancing toward the trees, Lucian drew back, his face hardening. "They haven't finished," he said somberly.

With a knot in my gut from fear, I followed his eyes.

The outlaws were reassembling.

They wouldn't stop until one of us was killed this time.