A garbage can rocketed from its placement near a garage to smash into Doorway. It sent him flying. While his friend stared in shock, she sent the can’s partner careening into him. Followed it up with an old bicycle. And then a cracked planter, complete with dried up plants.
That last one made Doorway bleed when it bounced off his arm. His friend jumped back to his feet and retreated the way he’d come. Clutching his arm, Doorway followed.
A wave of exhaustion passed over Dani as she lowered her shaking arms. Too much. On top of the battle she’d fled, this was too much. She longed to curl up in a dark corner and sleep. But as Dani resumed her skulk along the alley, she glanced back over her shoulder. Doorway and friend were long gone, but her every instinct told her she was not alone.
Dammit.She’d hoped to have more of a lead on the true predators that tracked her. This was about more than mere sight. Her pursuers had noses too.
They’d have her if she didn’t throw her scent.
The moonlight flickered, and she ducked into the deep shadows of a garage, squinting upward. Just a cloud passing overhead, but it reminded her that pursuers weren’t restricted to the ground.
Dani was running on empty, but movement was her friend. Pushing her aching body into a jog, she hugged the shadows as she traversed the alley.
Her ears, much keener than they used to be, gave her the answer. The sound of water. Not the babbling of a brook, or the crashing of rapids, but the much slower swirl of a behemoth.
Even in midsummer ebb, the Red River was something never to be taken lightly. It curled its way straight through Winnipeg and the surface’s lazy ripples appeared gentle. But the current that ran beneath had swept many to their deaths.
Her mind coughed up a desperate plan to throw her pursuers off her scent. First, she had to lay the track. Her feet raced across pavement—even a bloodhound would have problems tracking over that surface—so she brushed against buildings, garbage cans, fences, trees, and bushes as she ran, leaving clear “Dani was here” signs to follow.
She headed east of the overpass, traveling through the back alleys toward the river in a slow arc. Every time her skin prickled, she ducked into deep shadows.
Once she looked up—what passed between her and the moon was no cloud. Swift. Huge. Deadly. Her heart hammered, and the resulting adrenaline lent wings to her feet.
She circumvented the Mennonite Brethren Collegiate with its open parking lot, and then used the trees for overhead cover as she ducked through yards rather than sticking to the street.
The murmuring water sounded much closer now. She hid in a hedge and looked to the park that lay between herself and the river.
Not as many trees as she’d like there to be. The open ground looked like a trap. And the grass would carry her scent like a beacon, straight to the river.
As she debated her plan, the wind whistled as something huge dropped from overhead.
Nearly fifty feet in length with a wingspan close to forty, the Dragon landed in a small open area bordered by trees that lined the walking path. It barely made a sound as it touched down.
Dani held her breath. The moonlight reflected off scales that glittered blue and green. It began to change shape, and in a flash, the Dragon gave way to a human.
Not any ordinary human. She supposed anyone who spent part of their time as a Dragon couldn’t be expected to be anything less than nearly seven feet of Greek-God type.
But man, did he ever fill the eye. Shoulders like a mountain, tapering to slim hips with a butt to drool over, and the thighs of an athlete. He should be naked, but he glittered as though his scales had stayed with him as clothing. His black hair hung free to his waist, lifting in the slight breeze. Every move he made was smooth and powerful.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Her heart thumped erratically, and her entire body vibrated. Her skin suddenly seemed too tight, as if her beast wanted to break free.
Pure, unadulterated predator, Dani reminded herself. Not someone to be ogled. Someone to run from.
Besides, he broke her “no testicles” rule, and that rule was there for a reason. Men were always trouble. She hadn’t met one that wasn’t.
A slight exaggeration, but sadly, not as much as one might think. Her last experience had been her worst—Remy, the alpha of her pack.
Even just thinking his name caused her gut to twist into painful knots and her heart to flutter like a trapped moth. No. She had no time for an anxiety attack. Not with hunters on her trail.
The Dragon might be gorgeous, but Remy had been damned good looking too. And she couldn’t fight this guy, either. Not even a werewolf could fight a frigging Dragon.
He bent to lift something from the grass. A sword. Where the hell had that come from? It was the same type that she’d seen wielded in the battle, with a five-foot, glowing blade.
She had to get out of here, but there wasn’t a way for her to leave her handy hedge without setting off every alarm the Dragon possessed.
He stared at the sword as the glow faded. Then he set it into a nearby shrub and ran his hand along his ribs. A moment later, he put on sunglasses.
Sunglasses at night? Weird. And why was he shoving his sword in the bushes?
