“I thought so,”—he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and cocked a brow—“I mighta seen her.”

  “Well, if you did, it would be really helpful to tell us.” Trace sounded agitated as he took a step towards him, only to stop abruptly when one of the bobcats snarled in his direction.

  “I don’t reckon I’d do that, mister,” the boy said, a sly grin crossing his lips. “See, those there ain’t like me.”

  “They’re...regular bobcats?” Rane questioned, glancing at the four of them as they continued stalking back and forth.

  “Yep. I’m the only one who can wear shoes if I wanted to.” He chuckled and scratched at his chin, meeting his gaze again. “I guess you’re wondering how I am who I am, and why I’m running with them, huh?”

  “Well, yes,”—he blinked—“But I don’t exactly have time to be concerned with that. Our friend, the pretty one with red hair, might be in a lot of trouble.”

  “She wasn’t in any trouble when I seen her.”

  “Was she with someone?” Decker asked, his voice tired; it took a lot out of a person to shift, and nearly-shifting was just as bad. “Maybe a wolf?”

  The boy wrinkled his nose and spat at the ground. This action caused the bobcats to growl again.

  They were protective of him, it seemed. He’d never seen, or heard, of such a thing.

  “Yeah, there was a wolf,” he muttered in disdain. “But it was just a baby. He was a kid.”

  “A kid?” Trace scoffed. “She could take him if she had to.”

  “But he’s a kid.” Decker’s tone changed to a mixture of confusion and disapproval. “Why would she want to hurt a kid anyway, Trace?”

  “Uh...because he’s a wolf?”

  Uh oh.

  An awkward tension surrounded them then, and he turned his head to look at the couple. They were staring at each other with uncertainty.

  “We don’t hurt kids,” Rane reminded his brother. “Doesn’t matter what they can turn into.”

  Relief washed over him with the realization that Henley was accompanying a young wolf, but at the same time, he knew it meant a mama wolf had to be nearby.

  “What if he belongs with the ones that took your friends?” Trace continued to argue. “What if he was just some ploy to lure her to her death?”

  “Don’t talk like that.” Decker took a step away from him, hurt evident in his eyes. “How can you say something like that?”

  “Because I don’t trust wolves!” Trace cried, throwing his hands in the air. “Do you?”

  “No, but I trust her, and she wouldn’t be that dumb.”

  “Foxes are...”

  Trace’s voice trailed off, but it was too late.

  “Are what, dumb? Is that what you want to say?”

  “No. No, Decker. I wasn’t meaning it like that. I was just saying...wolves can’t be trusted. She’s got a good heart, but it might get her in trouble. That’s all.”

  “And we’re dumb.”

  Rane rolled his eyes and looked back to the kid apologetically.

  As they continued their heated discussion of a fox’s intelligence and whether or not Henley was in danger, he approached the young bobcat and extended a hand.

  “My name’s Rane Warrick. What’s yours?”

  The boy stared at his hand and then met his gaze again.

  “What do you want me to do with that?”

  “You shake it.”—he laughed—“Have you never shaken hands with someone before?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. Well, it’s just a thing you do when you introduce yourself to somebody. Didn’t your father teach you that?”

  “My father?” The boy’s voice became softer, and he instantly knew he’d struck something within him.

  “Do you...have a father?”

  “I did, but it’s been a long time ago. My parents are dead, as is the rest of my clowter.”

  “I see.” He dropped his hand back to his side. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  The boy shrugged and averted his gaze to the bobcats behind them.

  “This is my family now. They took me in as one of their own. We can’t talk to each other, but they seemed to know I needed them, and I find ‘em good food, so they let me stay.”

  He’d definitely never heard of such a thing. But he supposed it made sense as to why the boy was so much bigger than the rest of them. Shifters were always bigger than regular animals. Maybe he wasn’t an alpha, after all.

  “I suppose good food is a reason to let somebody stay,” he said with a laugh. He shrugged out of his jacket and held it out for him to take. “Here, why don’t you put this on?”

  The boy wrinkled his nose and scowled.

  “Why would I want to put on clothes?”

  “Well...”

  It wasn’t an entirely ridiculous question, really. Shifters were allowed to do as they pleased—that was the beauty of being what they were. But at the same time, it was a little awkward to have one naked little bobcat shifter and three fully clothed adult men standing around.

  He just wasn’t comfortable with it, no matter how much the idea of running around naked everywhere may have appealed him.

  “It’s the decent thing to do,” he finally said, giving a nod of encouragement. “Besides, it’s a little cold out here, don’t you think?”

  “Cold? Not to me,”—the boy accepted the jacket anyway and slid it on—“I don’t get cold, I don’t guess.”

  “Interesting,” he remarked after a beat of silence. “How long have you been staying with...your family?”

  “I don’t know,”—he shrugged his shoulders again—“I guess a few years? I don’t have much of a good memory. I can barely remember my mom and dad anymore.”

  He’d often wondered if he would come to that point one day—the point of being unable to remember his parents. It would devastate him if he couldn’t remember his mother’s smile, or his father’s laugh.

  Poor kid, he thought.

  ‘Forget it,’ his cat mumbled. ‘We aren’t doing it.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘He can’t come with us.’

  Was that what he’d been thinking about?

  “Well, this is just great.” Trace huffed as he appeared by his side. “He’s the most stubborn fox I’ve ever met in my life.”

  Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Decker was standing a good distance away from them, his arms folded across his chest. His shoulders lifted with a heavy sigh—a frustrated one, at that.

  “You just need to apologize.”

  “Me?!” Trace looked at him, offended. “Why me? He’s the one being a pain the ass right now. He won’t listen to reason. He—”

  “Is worried about his best friend,” he cut him off, giving him a knowing glance. “Pretty sure I can relate to that.”

  The anger disappeared from his brother’s eyes then, and he sighed in defeat.

  “I know. Don’t you think I’m worried about her, too?”

  “I believe you are,”—he nodded—“but you really need to be supportive right now, Trace. You kinda came off a bit aggressive.”

  “Blame my cat—he’s an idiot.”

  He quirked a brow.

  “And...”—he huffed again—“I’m an idiot, too. Damn it.”

  “Just apologize, trust me.”

  As his brother stomped away to make amends, he focused his attention on the young bobcat-shifter once more.

  “It’s my fault the wolf got hurt,” he admitted, dropping his head in guilt. “I set that trap.”

  “You did? Why?”

  “’Cause my dad never really got a chance to teach me how to hunt.”

  It took a few seconds for the kid’s latest emotion to hit him, and when it did, he cursed beneath his breath.

  He knew those feelings all too well: the feelings of loneliness, confusion, and anger. He’d felt that way, too, when his parents died—he’d been much older than this boy; he couldn’t imagine how difficult life had been for him thus far.

  “So, you’ve just always been with these bobcats since then?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking...what happened to your parents?”

  Certain he already knew the answer, he gazed at him intently, awaiting his response.

  Scratching the side of his nose, the boy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes focused on the ground.

  “I don’t really remember...”

  He became distressed then, and Rane realized he was pushing too hard.

  He’s so young, he reminded himself.

  “Hey, it’s okay.” His hand landed against the boy’s shoulder as he offered a friendly smile. “We don’t have to talk about that. Let’s talk about what you catch in those traps, huh?”

  “Everything,” he replied, seemingly perking up. He grinned somewhat proudly and made his way towards the trap. “Deer, rabbits—the occasional beaver. I don’t really like to eat them, though—the beavers, I mean. Have you ever tried to eat one?”

  “I can’t say I have,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “But I do like deer and rabbits.”

  “Oh, me, too!” He said excitedly as he crouched by the trap and examined it. “I feel bad I hurt that wolf.”

  At any other time, he would have asked why, but given it was a little wolf that had been injured, he wasn’t going to. As he’d reminded Trace only moments before: they didn’t hurt kids.

  It should have been a universal rule for every shifter, but wolves...well, they were a different breed of predator in every sense. They didn’t care about age or gender, or familial ties. The poor foxes had certainly learned that the hard way, hadn’t they?

  ‘We have to find her,’ his cat reminded him. ‘She may be in danger.’

  “Say, uh....what’s your name?”

  “I think my name’s Ezra. At least, I remember being called that when I was little.”

  “Ezra—that’s a good strong name.”

  “Thanks.” He gave him a boyish grin and straightened up, squirming inside the way-too-big coat he was currently sporting. “I may not remember a lot from back then, but that’s the one thing I’m positive of.”

  “Well, thank goodness you can remember your name, or else I’d have to give you a new one,”—he eyed him seriously—“Probably something like Henry, or maybe Jeffrey.”

  “What?” He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Those are terrible names!”

  He laughed then, and he could sense the boy was beginning to relax; becoming more comfortable with him.

  ‘I can’t just leave him here.’

  ‘Oh yes, you can. And you will. We can’t take him where we’re going. It is too dangerous.’

  His cat did have a point, and he knew it to be true. Taking Ezra with them would lead to terrible consequences—they were already going to be dealing with enough as it was.

  “Okay, no new names for now. But can I ask you for a favor, Ezra?”

  “Sure thing, mister...erm...Rane.”

  “Can you tell me which way they went?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  How did she manage to get herself into these situations?

  It was the only question she could ask herself as she fought to free herself from the grasp of a smelly—and she did mean smelly—werewolf.

  “Keep movin’,” he said, his voice deep and threatening. “I ain’t afraid to hit a woman.”

  “Let her go!” Dimitri wailed from somewhere behind them. “She didn’t do anything! She’s a nice fox!”

  “Quiet, you!” A second werewolf growled.

  She winced as she heard the sound of a fist connecting with flesh, and Dimitri released a whine of pain.

  “Leave him alone!” She cried, pushing back against her captor. “He’s just a baby!”

  That outburst earned her a stars-inducing slap to the face, which sent her to the ground. She landed hard upon her knees, but refused to let them know how much it hurt.

  Hot tears stung at her eyes, and her ears rang from the impact. That sound, however, was no match for the beating of her heart as various scenarios ran through her mind.

  What are they going to do to me?

  ‘It was a trap,’ her fox sobbed. ‘It had to be a trap.’

  No. It wasn’t possible that Dimitri was involved. He couldn’t have been.

  She refused to believe it.

  “This rabbit is pretty tasty,” he’d said as he took another bite and groaned in satisfaction.

  “I’m glad you like it—rabbit’s my favorite,” she replied, picking off another piece of meat and popping it into her mouth. “I’m sure we can find another one if you want more.”

  “Oh, yeah,”—he nodded excitedly, eyes sparkling—“I definitely want more. I bet I could eat five of them!”

  “Five? My goodness, that’s a lot for such a small fellow. I suppose we can build up the fire and get some more. Are you sure?”

  “Uh huh. But I’ll still share,”—he grinned at her, his cheeks bulging with food—“You’ve been so nice to me, and I want to be nice back.”

  “Awe, you’re so sweet. I think I might just have to take you back to—”

  “Well, well, well,” a newcomer’s voice had said, sending both of them to their feet instantly. “Isn’t this just disgustingly adorable?”

  Dimitri’s whimper of fright had been the first sign they were in trouble, but as the tall, barbaric-looking lycanthrope stepped out from behind a tree, she knew, without a doubt, they were in danger.

  “L-listen,” she’d stammered, pulling Dimitri behind herself. “We’re not trying to impose. We only stopped to—”

  “What are ya doing all the way out here, orphan?” The lycanthrope cut her off, practically ignoring her, as he glared at the trembling wolf behind her. “You weren’t supposed to run off on your own. You know what happens to little shits who disobey.”

  “I’m s-sorry,” Dimitri said quietly, his voice shaking. “I didn’t m-mean to.”

  “And what’s this?” The lycanthrope stalked towards them, in the same manner most of them displayed while hunting prey: slow and unnervingly calm. “You’ve found something new for me to play with?”

  Her heart felt like it was about to burst out of her chest as he reached out to twirl a red curl around his dirty finger.

  It sickened her, truly, the way he gazed at her.

  “You’re a pretty thing,” he said gruffly, his rancid breath fanning across her face. “I like breakin’ pretty things.”

  Much beyond her own understanding, her first instinct was not to run and hide, but rather to stay and protect Dimitri.

  Before she realized it was happening, her claws had burst through her fingertips and made their way down the side of his face, leaving angry, deep gashes.

  “Run, Dimitri!”

  The lycanthrope growled from the pain, which was probably more of an annoyance than a set back, and she suddenly found herself sailing through the air.

  The world went topsy-turvy; she felt like she was going to throw up; everything became a blur of uncertainty and absolute terror.

  She slammed into the unforgiving surface of a tree and fell to the ground, the wind knocked from her lungs.

  “You stupid bitch!” He roared, stalking towards her. “You think ya can get away so easily? You foxes really are the dumbest of our kin. Come here.”

  She clutched her side as she gasped for air, pain searing through her head as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and jerked her up.

  Despite the pain and the tears blurring her vision, she could see that Dimitri was gone.

  At least he would be safe...

  “You’re pretty,” the lycanthrope murmured as he nuzzled his nose against her cheek. “But if you pull a stunt like that again, the only hole I’ll be fillin’ tonight will be the one with yer body in it—got it?

  “Oh, no,” she sobbed softly, squeezing her eyes shut. “No, no. Please don’t do this. You have to l-let me go. Please.”

  He hummed in approval as he spun her around, shoving her against the tree.

  Pain shot down her leg and she cried out, taking note of the injury she’d sustained: her hip had been dislocated upon impact, and it was agonizing.

  She stumbled forward and hissed as her palms scraped against the merciless bark of the aged tree, the tiny cuts burning with a vengeance as her claws retreated into her fingertips.

  Scared. Her fox was scared, and so was she.

  “I like the way you beg, foxy,” he whispered in a faint Irish accent, his body pressed against hers from behind. “I bet you feck good, too. Hm?”

  “Please, please, please...”

  She repeated the word over and over again as tears spilled down her cheeks. Her body felt like one earthquake after another, trembling and shaking with alarm.

  She’d never felt anything like this before in her life.

  The sound of fabric ripping made her wince, and she knew what was about to happen as his fingers circled around her throat and yanked her head back. His tongue slid up the length of her neck, over her cheek, and near the corner of her mouth.

  She gagged at the thought of being with him.

  “R-Rane,” she tried to say between gasps for air. “H-he...”

  “Shhh, shhh,” he whispered, lightly raking a razor sharp canine over her bottom lip. He forced her head to turn, and silenced her whimper of pain with a putrid kiss.

  If she thought she was going to throw up before, she definitely was now.

  “Hey, Phelan! Lookie who we found—oh.”

  He grunted in dismay and pulled away from her, much to her relief. His grip loosened on her throat as he glared at the newcomers.

  “What have I told you about interrupting me?” He barked, grabbing her by the hair of the head once more.

  He turned her around violently, and her eyes landed on two more lycanthropes.

  She hadn’t any hope of taking on one, let alone three of them...

  “Sorry, Phelan. Just thought you’d like to see what we found,” the shorter of the two said in an accent similar to her attacker’s.

  Dimitri stumbled forward as he was shoved, and he fell to the ground with a small grunt.

  “Oh, no,” she said softly, shaking her head. “Oh, Dimitri...”

 

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