Luck of the Wolf by Susan Krinard

street squeezed between two ugly brick buildings. All she needed was a minute to get out of her clothes.
    But her attackers didn’t want to give her any time at all. While one of the men swung the rope, the other came at her again, too fast and strong to be human.

CHAPTER SIX
    A RIA DODGED OUT of his way, furious at her own stupidity. Cort had been worried about her going out alone. She had assumed he was concerned about the men who had taken her the first time.
    But these weren’t the same men at all. She might not have Cort’s ability to recognize wehrwölfe just by looking at them, but she couldn’t mistake the way this man moved, or how easily he countered her attempt to escape.
    It was almost funny that the second werewolf she’d met wanted to hurt her. But he did, and there was no point in trying to warn him off, or ask him and the other man what they wanted.
    And no one was going to help her. She’d learned in her first week on the Coast that the people here knew better than to get in the way of bad men.
    Backing deeper into the alley, Aria swept off her cap, dropped it on the ground and ripped open the front of her shirt. The man with the rope waited while the other werewolf began to remove his own clothing. Aria tore her trousers open with one hand and threw them aside. Cold, damp air wrapped around her arms and legs as she flung her underthings away.
    The strange werewolf finished undressing a moment later. He was big all over and very hairy, and when he Changed his shoulder stood as high as Aria’s head. Sheclosed her eyes and let her own wolf take her. Her enemy went straight for her front legs and knocked them out from under her.
    But Aria was fast, and strong. She had spent years running and riding up and down mountain slopes, and along treacherous trails that wound through dense forest and beside sheer cliffs. Her muscles reacted instantly, propelling her to her feet again. She snapped at the stranger’s nearest foreleg, her teeth sinking through fur, and into flesh and bone.
    Her enemy yelped and snarled, swinging his big head around to seize the ruff on Aria’s neck.
    â€œDon’t hurt her!” the other man cried. “He wants her alive and well!”
    But the wolf didn’t seem to hear. He bore down on Aria, smothering her with his far greater weight. She realized that he could crush her without even trying. She struggled beneath him, gasping for breath, her tongue lolling and her ears flat against her skull as she scrabbled at the mud with her nails and tried to get a grip on the stranger’s belly.
    â€œBaldwin!” the man yelled. “Stop! If you—”
    His voice cracked on a cry of pain. Aria made a feeble attempt to lift her head.
    Cort, she thought. And suddenly she was free, the massive body on top of her tumbling sideways with a grunt of surprise. Aria leaped up, her whole body protesting the sudden movement, and sprang toward her attacker. A warm, thickly furred shoulder brushed hers. Together she and Cort fell on the stranger, who snapped and snarled but proved no match for the two of them working together. He rolled on his back in a grotesque posture of submission, and the stink of urine mingled with the foul carrion odor of his breath.
    Cort stood over him, bristling and growling. Aria couldn’t laugh, not in this shape, but she grinned and danced with joy. She had never felt anything like this before, not even when she brought down the fleetest and noblest of stags after a long and exhausting hunt. She and Cort had won. Together.
    But Cort didn’t seem interested in their victory. He Changed and stood over their enemy, clenching and unclenching his fists.
    â€œGet out of here,” he said, something cruel and rough replacing the usual smoothness of his voice. “Tell your master he won’t have her, even if he sends every loup-garou in California.”
    He aimed a kick toward the other werewolf’s belly,