I was supposed to go into the bar and talk to the locals. I couldn't do it.
I couldn't sit on a stool and pretend I didn't want to take Damien up to my room and finish what we'd only just started.
What was wrong with me? I thought I'd been cured of my need to fuck the forbidden.
"Guess not," I muttered.
Of course, how could I be better when the very delusion that had sent me over the edge wasn't a delusion at all but the truth?
The only thing that made me feel sane was killing the things that had ruined my life. And Edward had shown me that, not a head doctor.
Maybe doing what I did best would help now. Maybe killing a few evil souls housed in wolf bodies could make me forget the taste of Damien's mouth and brush of his skin against mine. Maybe - but I doubted it.
I'd been around enough oddities to know that there was something not quite right about Damien. I needed to find out what that something was before I let him get any closer than he'd already gotten.
I glanced at the tavern, then headed for his cabin. The place was shrouded by trees, shaded from the moon. No one would see me creeping around back here, unless they knew where to look.
I tried the door. Locked. Well, that had never stopped me before.
I picked it in record time, even for me. Edward had taught me how, and I'd excelled at the lesson.
Once inside, I made sure the drapes were drawn before I turned on a lamp. The cabin was a replica of my apartment, only larger, with one room for everything but the bath.
The place was pin neat - the bed made, the kitchen pristine. Damien's clothes were still in his suitcase.
Because he planned to leave in a hurry? Or because he was Felix Unger in a hot, studly body?
I opened his suitcase. I'd been right. He owned nothing but black. I guess that cut down on any clothing confusion.
There were no papers, no books, no notes - in the room or in the suitcase.
"Stranger and stranger," I muttered.
Only people who were trying to hide something had nothing.
Too bad I didn't think to lift his wallet.
Another trick I was very, very good at. If I ever lost my job as a Jdger-Sucher I could make a pretty good living as a thief.
I slid my hand under the chairs, the couch, the bed. All the usual places to hide interesting, incriminating evidence. The only thing I found was a .45 taped behind the toilet tank.
Odd, but not too odd. People who lived out of their suitcases, their cars, often carried guns. Who knows what you might meet on the road? Living in the backwoods, working in taverns or worse, having a gun wasn't an issue. Not having one would be.
I left the revolver right where it was, shut off the light, put the curtains back where I'd found them. I glanced out the window and my heart slammed into my throat.
A white wolf stood between the cabin and the tavern.
I was running for the bathroom before I knew it. I fell to my knees, crawled a few inches, and yanked the gun from the back of the toilet. Tense, shaking, I waited for the sound of the window shattering. That it didn't only made me shake all the more.
I crept back into the front room, checking the gun as I went. One bullet. Damn. I'd have to make sure it counted.
Too bad I didn't carry silver bullets in my shoes. But even if I had time to get them from my bag, the bullets for my Glock wouldn't fit into a .45.
I'd just make do with what I had. A lead slug would slow him down, which would give me a chance to plunge my knife into his evil, murdering heart. I'd dreamed so often of having his blood on my hands; it was the only thing I lived for.
My breath rasped loudly in the dark, silent room. I inched to the window, looked out.
The yard was empty.
Dizziness passed over me in a sickening wave. I nearly fell to my knees.
"He was there," I assured myself. "He was."
I'd never seen the white wolf again after that night. Unless you counted my dreams.
I pinched myself. Yep, I was awake, in Damien's house, holding Damien's gun.
I opened the door just as a howl rose toward the half-moon. The howl was answered by another, then another. I followed the sound into the woods without a backward glance.
Ahead I saw the flash of a tail - white against the darker shade of the trees. Hatred welled within me, acrid at the back of my throat, a stinging tightness in my chest, a burning in my eyes.
I'd dreamed of killing him and now I had the chance.
It was foolish to run into a strange forest alone, with a gun I wasn't accustomed to - a gun that held one useless bullet. Even more foolish to think I would ever catch a wolf on foot. But I followed him anyway. I could do nothing else.