Tess Owens didn’t like dark things. Or the full moons that brought dark things out of hiding.
Standing in the front yard of her secluded South Dakota home, she could see a vague imprint of the moon rise over the treetops. Familiar sensations tied to the big silver orb flooded her system in waves. Flush of heat. Spikes in her pulse. A sudden upswing of anxiety.
Full moons messed with her nervous system in a way Tess supposed similarly affected the creature she’d go after tonight when the stars came out. Although it was only late afternoon, her body was doing its thing, readying, gearing up for the time when adrenaline would push her beyond normal human limitations and she’d become the thing she had been created to be. Hunter.
Tonight, she’d need every ounce of strength she possessed if she met up with the dark thing that had taken up residence in the area. Because tonight was going to be special.
Rumors about the newcomer had been spreading throughout the towns nestled in the hills of South Dakota for a few days, and those rumors didn’t begin to address the level of danger this new threat posed. She had been aware of the trespasser since it arrived.
The thing in these woods wasn’t human. Its otherness was rich and dangerous. Acknowledging it gave her a thrill, because hunting anomalies is what her family had done best when they were alive. As bad luck would have it, she just happened to be the only Owens left in this part of the Dakotas, so the job was hers.
Hunting big bad creatures after nightfall wasn’t for everyone and definitely not for the faint of heart—especially the kind of hunting her family was known for among certain circles. As far back as anyone could remember, the Owenses had been big-game specialists, not after lions or tigers, but wolves of a certain variety—the kind that walked upright on two legs and often looked like everyone else until a full moon rolled around.
“Plenty of light tonight,” Tess muttered.
There were no clouds and not one hint of a storm system rolling in...unless she counted that damn newcomer as a special kind of storm. The werewolf that had dared to come here.
“Wolf,” Tess said, standing near her front gate and searching the area west of the tall pine trees. “I know about you. I can taste your presence.”
The fact that ninety-nine percent of the world’s population didn’t know Weres existed was a testament to how talented that species was at keeping secrets. But Tess and her family had been wolf hunters for nearly as long as werewolves had been around.
She was going to have to be careful, though. The nervous twitch in her shoulders suggested that this sucker had an ominous vibe. Tonight wasn’t going to be easy. Even now, Tess breathed in the uniqueness of this creature’s essence.
Either a particularly powerful new werewolf had moved to the neighborhood, or she wasn’t worth the O carved on the hilt of her hunting knife.
O—the symbol for a pledge some ancient-based Owens had made to cull werewolf numbers.
O—a sign that was symbolic for zero, as in the number of werewolves that had gotten past her family since they had moved to the Dakotas thirty years ago.
O—for the look on miscreant werewolf faces when a well-placed silver knife or arrow terminated their freakish existence.
“And now you,” Tess said, pacing the yard. Although some were rumored to be good, she hadn’t seen the good stuff in any of the man-wolves she had hunted. Those creatures left a lot of damage behind. And she had never set eyes on a full-blooded Were, male or female, because Lycans, as those pure-bloods were called, tended to run in secretive, close-knit packs.
“So why are you trespassing where you don’t belong?” Tess whispered. “It’s my duty to catch you, you know. My job. My calling. I take my vows seriously.”
After her first hunting expedition with her father at the age of eight, she had accepted her role and had never looked back. At the ripe old age of twenty-four, she had the family name to live up to and didn’t take that honor lightly.
She was fast, strong. Her life depended on those things. One mistake, one too many hesitations and death would be the result. Even talented hunters didn’t usually last very long.
“I know you’re out there somewhere, wolf. Will you offer me a game of hide-and-seek or just magically appear?”
South Dakota wasn’t a hotbed for supernatural activity, unlike big cities in the West and East. There were slim pickings here for monsters, so a werewolf hadn’t crossed her path in months.
“Until you.”
She paused to scan more of the forest. Being alone for so long had made talking to herself out loud an acceptable habit.
“A beast like you took down both of my parents, leaving me without backup. But don’t assume that means I’m weak.”
On the contrary, the loss of her mother and father last year had energized her need to take care of problems that arose. So here she was, fighting back, fighting hard and willing to go to extremes in order to deal some payback to the creatures that had taken so much from her.
“I will find you. That’s a promise.”
If luck was on her side, the new Were wouldn’t get wind of her before she found it. Out of necessity, she had become good at stealth, but werewolves also had keen, fine-tuned senses that were apt to be better than hers. She bore the scars to prove it and wore those scars like notches in her belt to mark the fights she had not only survived but won.
Would