Christmas Moon by Sadie Hart Page A

gun crack behind her. Plaster flicked across the floor from
where he’d struck the hallway wall. Shit .
    Bree sprinted for the living room, flinging
open the front door, and bolting into the cold. The icy wind
wrapped around her and her breath froze in her lungs, burning, but
she pulled her inner-dog to the surface and shifted. In a single
stride she went from woman to a brilliant red hound dog. Another
shot fired but she was running for the trees, the dark bushes and
haunting shadows seemed to reach out for her as she dove into
them.
    But she didn’t stop running.
    She bolted into the forest, running full out,
when she heard the terrible howl rip through the wind behind her.
The rogue giving chase. And no matter how fast her dog ran, she
knew the wolf would be faster. Stronger.

Chapter Fourteen

    Hunter stirred awake, tossing off the heavy
blankets as he blinked up into the dark. His muscles were tense and
the wolf under his skin stirred, eager to get out. Worried. Hell.
He rubbed his forehead. Maybe it was Rylie. The wolf always seemed
to know when something was off with the pack and he’d learned not
to ignore the animal.
    Dragging his ass out of bed, he grabbed his
phone off the table and dialed the wolf in charge of guarding her
tonight. “‘llo,” the gruff man answered.
    “How is she?”
    “Fine. Sleeping like a rock. Doc says she’ll
be fine. He’ll release her in the morning.”
    “Good.” Hunter severed the connection and
rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the growing tension out of
him. A muffled pop sounded in the distance and he tilted his head,
curious.
    He was just about to reach for the covers and
go back to bed when he heard the eerie howl, distant and faded, but
it rocked the beast inside him and sent a chill down his spine. It
wasn’t from one of his wolves and he knew the direction the sound
came from.
    Bree’s house.
    Son of a bitch. Hunter leapt from his
bed and sprinted down the hall. He should have known the bastard
was going to go after her, that he wouldn’t have just settled for
being one-upped at Wolf’s Peak. He’d just thought they’d have more
time, that the rogue would be too rattled to worry about attacking
now.
    Hunter rammed open his front door and bolted
barefoot out into the snow. The wind slapped against his chest,
leaving an icy sting across the broad expanse of bare skin. But he
didn’t stop. Instead he yanked the beast inside him out and let the
wolf flow free. He didn’t make a sound as he raced towards the
woods behind Bree’s house and the direction of the second howl,
triumphant as it gave chase.
    His wolf longed to answer, but Hunter clamped
down on the beast. The rogue didn’t deserve to know danger was
coming from him. That the hunter was also the hunted. He didn’t
want that bastard to know he was coming until he ripped out the
rogue’s throat.
    And Bree, he trusted she could stay alive
until he got there.
    It hadn’t been long, but already he knew her
well enough to know she could handle herself. He knew if that wolf
was howling through the forest it was because it was already
pursuing her, which meant she had a head start. She’d make the best
of every situation that turned up—including backup.
    His lungs screamed against the rush of bitter
cold air flowing down his throat with every breath, every stride
pumping hot blood through his veins. His nose registered the wolf’s
scent the moment they neared his trail, followed by the unique,
feminine scent that was Bree. He spun and followed the trail,
rushing headlong through the dark bushes.
    A snarl rippled ahead followed by a thump of
bodies hitting the snow. Desperation clawed through him, but no
matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t go any faster. The growl
that poured from him was beyond his control, nothing could stop the
beast from crying out. If that rogue so much as touched her, Hunter
was going to rip him apart.
    There was a yelp ahead, then a second later a
gunshot. The piercing pop