He prodded me forward when I slowed. "Did you see that stuffed one in the hotel lobby? Damn near eight feet tall. I see anything that big, I'm running, too."

The moon passed behind thicker clouds and I slowed again, blinking hard as the path went dark.

"Get behind me," he said.

Clay's night vision beat mine, so he led the way, slowly but sure-footed. As we walked, I swear it got darker, even the glow of the cloud-covered moon erased from the night sky.

I was about to say we definitely needed to invest in flashlights. Then a scent wafted past my nose, that awful musky smell coming from downwind meaning it was right beside-

Clay spun, his fist in flight, eyes widening as he realized he'd led with his bad arm. He checked himself, his left punching as I wheeled. Something plowed square into my back, knocking the wind from my lungs. My feet flew off the ground and I braced myself for a fall. Instead I jerked up short, legs windmilling, suspended in the air, that stench washing over me, held aloft by the back of my coat. As I twisted to see what had me, Clay pile-drove the beast. It grunted in surprise, and I went flying, my jacket ripping.

I slammed into a tree. Pain exploded. As I tumbled into a heap at the base, I blinked, barely able to see. Clay's face appeared over mine. He gave a whoosh of relief, seeing my eyes open.

Before I could speak, trees crackled, branches snapping. A snarl. Then a snort. Clay spun, fists sailing up. The crashing continued, growing distant. Clay waited, poised for a fight. When he was sure the beast was gone, he scooped me up. My head throbbed, hot blood trickling down my neck. Clay broke into a jog, carrying me.

When we reached the SUV, he bundled me inside and tried checking my injuries, but I pushed him away.

"Drive," I said. "Even the extra vehicle insurance isn't going to cover a bear attack."

He swung into the driver's seat and had the tires spinning before the door slammed shut. He tore to the end of the trail. When we reached the end of the next one, he pulled over.

"The blood is from my nose," I said, holding a handful of tissue to it. "It's not even broken."

He said nothing, just came around to my side to assess the dam age for himself. He cleaned me up and when he was done, he checked for other cuts and found two scrapes.

"Jacket off."

I didn't argue. If he'd been the one thrown into a tree, I'd be doing the same. Maybe that's the wolf. Maybe it's just us.

He helped me out of my jacket. As he pulled it away, I saw four long tears in the back, tiny feathers fluttering out like snowflakes.

"Shit."

I wanted to ask what had attacked me-a bear, I presumed-but the set of his jaw said he wasn't ready to talk yet, cheek muscles working, gaze hard as he checked my ribs and neck.

When he finished, he stood. His nostrils flared, breath puffing, then he wheeled, fist slamming into the nearest tree.

"Fuck!" He hit the tree again, so hard it groaned. "I used the wrong fucking arm. Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

I slid from the SUV and stepped in front of him, grabbing his fist as it flew again.

"That thing could have killed you," he said. "All because I led with the wrong fucking arm."

His fist drove toward the tree. I caught it, held both his hands tightly, then leaned in to kiss him. He didn't respond at first, his breath coming hard and fast, rage and frustration roiling in his eyes. I kissed him again and the watershed broke. He grabbed me in a fierce, bruising kiss that had none of the playful edge from earlier. I wrapped my hands in his hair and returned it, ignoring the pain in my nose, feeding on his rage and the frustration, feeling it slide away and, under it, the raw taste of fear-that terror that he wasn't as good a fighter anymore, not as good as he needed to be, not good enough to protect his Alpha and his family.

He pushed me up against the tree, then stopped as I winced.

"Your back," he said.

"My neck." I made a face. "I'd say it's okay, but on second thought, this is one escape we should probably complete before having sex."

He helped me into the car despite my protests that I was fine.

"So what was that?" I asked as he got in. "A bear?"

"All I saw was something big and hairy. I was busy watching you get tossed around by it."

"It was strong, whatever it was," I said, rubbing my sore neck.

"I tried to get a better look as it ran away, but it was too dark."

"I think it did that on purpose."

"What?" he said.

"It waited until the moon was completely behind the clouds, then stayed downwind so we wouldn't smell anything until it was right beside us. One very smart predator."

"A bear's not that smart."

"No. But a yeti might be."

He looked over sharply. Ten years ago, he'd have known I was joking, but with all we'd seen since then, the supernatural world unfolding before us, he wasn't sure until he caught my smile.

"The yeti is from the Himalayas, darling. That'd be a helluva swim. Around here, it'd have to be a Sasquatch or Bigfoot."

"I stand corrected, professor. But on that subject, I wonder if that thing has anything to do with Dennis's research. He saw it and was trying to figure out what it was."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking. We need to go over those notes. First, though, I want to find a grizzly-or at least a stuffed one. Get a good whiff of that."

I nodded. "Cross off the mundane possibilities before we start looking at the supernatural ones. And speaking of supernatural, what was up with that mutt? A werewolf running with a wolf pack?"

"There's stuff like that in the Legacy."

The Legacy was the Pack's bible-our combination of werewolf myth and genealogy. It did include a few stories of werewolves who'd embraced their wolf nature, choosing to immerse themselves in that side and that society. I'd always brushed them off as stories.

We reached the highway. It was so empty that I had to check the clock. Not even ten o'clock? Hard to believe.

As I ratcheted back my seat to rest, I noticed Clay gripping and ungripping the steering wheel with his right hand, flexing it.

Just before the twins were born, a zombie had scratched Clay. It'd broken the skin, but his arm got so badly infected that we'd been sure he'd lose it. Instead, he'd lost muscle and some function when the infected tissue had to be cut out to save the rest.