Prey Tell

The wolf died quietly. I appreciated that.

There were few things more irritating than killing something that insisted on making a spectacle of it.

One moment, the bastard was crouched between two pines with its belly nearly brushing the forest floor, gray fur dissolving into the undergrowth and yellow eyes fixed on the back of my neck. The next, my knife was buried to the hilt beneath its jaw.

Its body struck the ground with a soft, wet thump.

I crouched beside it, wrapped my fingers around the handle, and twisted the blade free. Blood welled black beneath the moonlight, soaking into fur already too dark to show much of the stain.

“Really?” A woman’s voice slipped through the trees behind me, dry amusement curling around the single word.

Female. Young. And entirely too entertained for someone who had just watched me open a wolf from chin to throat.

I wiped the blade against the dead animal’s coat before bothering to turn. “You’ve been following me for nearly a mile.” I ran my thumb carefully along the flat of the steel, checking that nothing remained before sliding it home. “Rather poorly.”

A brief silence settled behind me.

“You knew?” Some of the amusement disappeared from her voice, replaced by something closer to offense.

That nearly made me smile.

“I could hear you.” I rose, brushing a smear of blood from the heel of my palm onto my trousers. “I’d suggest putting some effort into stalking lessons for next time.”

A branch snapped behind me, closer now.

“That’s embarrassing.” The confession came with a little huff that suggested she didn’t find it particularly embarrassing at all.

“It should be.” I turned and—

Fuck.

Not what I expected.

She stood perhaps twenty feet away, one shoulder resting against a pine as though she’d wandered across me during an afternoon stroll rather than stalked an enemy through contested territory.

Dark hair spilled around a face that was almost offensively feminine. Full, soft mouth. Delicate nose. Large eyes framed by thick lashes. Even the slight roundness of her cheeks belonged on something gentler than the creature I knew her to be. The kind of face that invited underestimation.

Then I noticed the knife strapped to her thigh.

Mud coated her boots nearly to the ankles, and there wasn’t so much as a flicker of discomfort on that pretty face as the blood from the animal between us seeped into the forest floor.

“Werewolf.” I let the accusation sit between us as my gaze traveled back to her face.

Her mouth crooked at one corner. “Vampire.”

She pushed the word back at me with equal certainty, her eyes dipping briefly toward my own knife at my hip.

“I suppose introductions are complete.” I straightened to my full height, curious whether the difference between us would register now that I wasn’t crouched over a corpse.

It did; perhaps she wasn’t so stupid after all. Her gaze climbed, but it wasn’t fear like I’d been anticipating. She was evaluating me the same way I’d done to a knife or a bow and arrow. I was deadly, and she was… interested?

She hadn’t reached for her knife, but neither had I drawn another so that didn’t mean much. She could shift faster than I could cross the distance between us. I could probably have my hand around her throat before she could get her teeth around mine.

Probably. I disliked probably. Behind me, the dead wolf gave one final involuntary twitch.

“Was that necessary?” Her attention flicked toward the body, one eyebrow lifting rather than drawing together in horror.

“Yes.” I nudged the corpse with the toe of my boot to make certain it was finished.

“Why?” She tipped her head, genuinely curious.

“He saw me.” I met her eyes again.

A spark of humor returned to them.

“So did I.” She spread her hands slightly from her sides, presenting herself as evidence.

I let my palm settle over the pommel of my knife. “There’s still time.”

For half a second, she simply stared. Then she laughed.

Not the brittle little sound people made when they were frightened and desperately wanted me to believe otherwise. Her head tipped back slightly, dark hair slipping from her shoulder as the sound escaped her. She genuinely found me funny.

That was significantly more annoying.

“You’re very confident for someone this far inside our territory.” She pushed away from the tree, closing some of the distance between us with slow, easy steps.

“And you’re very relaxed for someone alone with a vampire.” I tracked each one, waiting for the moment her weight shifted or her fingers twitched toward the knife.

It never came.

“Maybe I’m confident too.” She stopped a sensible distance away, planting one boot slightly ahead of the other.

I looked her over once, slowly. Soft face, small hands. Feminine features that were closed tighter than my dad’s treasury vaults. The knife. But no visible fear.

“Then one of us is going to be terribly embarrassed.” I allowed my gaze to return to hers.

Her smile widened - something about it changed her face. Not prettier, though; she was already pretty. It was sharper. I puzzled over it for a moment before it clicked: the softness was camouflage.

“Why aren’t you attacking me?” She folded her arms loosely beneath her chest, studying me with an openness I wasn’t accustomed to from anyone who knew what I was.

I lifted an eyebrow. “You approached me.”

“And?” Her chin rose slightly.

“And I assumed if you intended to kill me, you’d have made a better attempt at it.” I glanced pointedly at the conspicuous knife strapped to her thigh.

Her eyes followed mine. “Fair.” She rubbed her lips together, apparently considering the criticism rather than taking offense.

What a strange woman.

“Why aren’t you attacking me?” I shifted my weight onto one leg, returning the question.

“I haven’t decided yet.” She said it lightly, as though choosing whether to kill me ranked somewhere alongside deciding what she wanted for dinner.

I looked down at myself. The dark clothing. Mud to my knees. Blood streaked across one sleeve. A knife wet with something she presumably considered kin. Then I looked back at her.

“What additional information do you require?” I gestured vaguely toward myself.

Another laugh slipped from her. Fuck, that sound was pleasant. I hated that immediately.

“Maybe I like to be thorough.” She stepped around the dead wolf and came closer.

I didn’t move. At ten feet apart, I could smell her. Pine. Smoke. Something faintly floral beneath it. And wolf.

Definitely wolf.

The scent sat strangely against the woman in front of me. Too wild for the softness of her features.

Werewolves had always struck me as a contradiction no civilized species should have tolerated. They built houses, wore clothing, governed territories. Then turned into beasts and slept in the dirt.

It was honestly barbaric.

“You’re scouting.” Her gaze traveled down my clothing again before lifting to the trees behind me. Not a question.

I tilted my head. “That would be an exceptionally stupid thing for me to admit.”

“You’re alone in wolf territory dressed like you’re trying not to be seen.” She gestured vaguely at the dark clothes covering me from throat to boot. “Unless vampires have developed an unfortunate obsession with black.”

“I could simply have poor taste.” I glanced down at myself as though considering the possibility.

Her eyes made another leisurely trip over me.

“You do.” She delivered the judgment with such confidence that my mouth betrayed me with the faintest twitch.

Her eyes immediately brightened.

“Ah.” Triumph transformed her expression. “There is a personality under there.”

I killed the almost-smile. “Don’t get excited.”

“Too late.” She turned on one heel and started walking right me. As though I weren’t a vampire and could kill her in fractions of a second at this distance.

I watched her step over the dead wolf without giving it another glance and continue deeper into the trees.

“What exactly are you doing?” I called after her, genuinely baffled.

“Walking.” She lifted one hand over her shoulder without turning around.

I stared at the back of her head. “I can see that.”

“Congratulations, Captain Obvious.” Her fingers fluttered once before dropping to her side.

How utterly… insufferable. Good thing she was attractive.

“Where are you going?” I asked, mostly because I couldn’t imagine what answer would justify simply wandering away from an armed vampire she’d caught spying on her territory.

“There’s a clearing ahead.” She ducked beneath a low branch without even pausing to address me.

“And?” I took one step after her before realizing I’d done it.

“I’m going there.” She disappeared through a wall of brush.

I should leave. I had work to do - two hours until I was expected at the rendezvous point. Then another day of reconnaissance tomorrow before I returned home with everything Father needed to determine the best approach into the western territory.

The wolf packs had grown too bold. Too numerous. Too comfortable pushing against vampire borders while preaching their tiresome philosophy about coexistence.

They called themselves guardians. Of humans, primarily. As if humans needed them. As if slaughter became righteous if you waited for someone else to throw the first punch. Hypocrites.

We were at least honest about what we were. And I was currently following one.

I realized that approximately thirty seconds too late.

“You’ve made a compelling argument.” I pushed through the brush after her, catching the faint swing of dark hair between the trees ahead.

“I thought so.” Satisfaction warmed her voice.

The trees opened perhaps a hundred yards farther on, revealing a narrow clearing split by a shallow stream silvered beneath the moon.

She was already sitting on a fallen log. I stopped at the tree line.

“What?” She looked up at me, catching the stare.

“You’re very strange.” I leaned one shoulder against the nearest pine rather than joining her.

“I’ve been told.” She pulled one boot onto the log and began tightening the laces.

“Frequently?” I watched her work the leather cord through mud-stiffened fingers.

“Constantly.” She tugged the knot tight with unnecessary force.

That, for some reason, I believed.

“You understand that I’m here gathering information that will likely be used against your people.” I watched for some crack in that infuriating composure.

“Probably.” She lowered her boot and scraped the sole against a patch of moss.

“And you’re not concerned.” I let the statement sharpen into something almost accusatory.

Her hands stilled over her knee. “I didn’t say that.” The answer came quieter this time.

Something guarded flickered across her face, gone almost instantly. But I saw it.

“You haven’t called anyone.” I glanced deliberately toward the surrounding forest. No footsteps. No approaching heartbeats. Nothing.

“No.” She plucked a loose piece of bark from the log and began peeling it apart between her fingers.

“Why?” I asked.

She worried the bark until it broke before she answered.

“I wanted to know what you were doing.” Her eyes remained on her hands rather than me.

“I believe that’s been established.” I folded my arms.

“Now I want to know why.” She brushed the pieces from her palm and finally looked across the clearing.

“Why what?” I asked, although I suspected I knew.

“Why you’re doing it.” Her brows drew faintly together.

I stared at her.

“Because you’re my enemy.” The answer seemed obvious enough that I couldn’t understand why she needed it spoken aloud.

“That’s not a reason.” She shook her head once, dark hair brushing across her cheek.

“It actually is.” I sneered as I watched her tuck a strand behind one ear.

“No.” She drawled, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. “That’s an explanation.”

Christ.

“Is there a distinction?” I folded my arms more tightly.

“Yes.” The answer came immediately, annoyingly certain.

“I’m beginning to regret not killing you.” I let my eyes drift toward the knife at her thigh.

“There it is again.” Her mouth curved.

I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

“The personality.” She looked entirely too pleased with herself.

I exhaled through my nose as she smiled, the expression both cute and menacing.

I should have left. Instead, I walked into the clearing. Still, I remained on the opposite side of the stream and found a broad rock protruding from the earth. A sensible distance.

“You want to know why vampires and werewolves are at war?” I lowered myself onto it, keeping her in my peripheral vision.

“No.” She shook her head and nudged a pebble toward the water with the toe of her boot. “I know why we’re at war. I’ve been listening to people explain it since I could walk.”

“Then what exactly are you asking?” I rested my forearms across my thighs.

“Why you care.” Her eyes lifted to mine as the pebble dropped into the stream with a tiny splash.

That stopped me. Not because I didn’t have an answer; because nobody had ever asked.

“My father cares.” The words sounded inadequate even to me.

Her nose wrinkled. “That might be the worst answer you could’ve given.” She leaned back on her palms.

“You asked.” I gave a small shrug. Really, my reasons didn’t matter all that much, and it was self-explanatory to any being with a brain.

“And you’re just doing what your father tells you?” Curiosity softened the question where judgment should have been. Somehow that made it worse.

“My father is king.” I heard the mistake the moment the words left my mouth.

Her eyebrows climbed. Shit. I’d given her more than intended.

Not enough to identify me. There were dozens of vampire kings scattered across the continent, most ruling territories barely large enough to deserve the title.

Still. Careless.

“So you’re important.” Her gaze sharpened as it swept over me again, apparently searching for whatever evidence she’d missed.

“I didn’t say that.” I straightened slightly.

“Your father is a king.” She gave me a look that suggested I was being deliberately obtuse.

“And?” I asked.

“Unless vampire inheritance works significantly differently than ours, you’re at least genetically close to important.” She lifted one shoulder.

A reluctant smile tugged at my mouth. “Perhaps.” I allowed her that much and nothing more.

She studied me, and I returned the favor. There was quality in her clothing I’d missed at first. Not wealth exactly. Werewolves weren’t known for ostentation.

But good leather. Good boots. The knife at her thigh wasn’t decorative. Important, as well, then. Perhaps that explained why she wasn’t afraid.

Or perhaps she was simply stupid.

“So your father hates us.” She picked up another pebble and rolled it between her fingertips.

“All vampires hate wolves.” I watched it travel across her knuckles.

“And you love your father.” Her fingers stopped.

“Without question.” The answer escaped before I considered why I was giving it to her.

Her expression shifted to thoughtfulness; I’d been expecting pity.

“That’s complicated.” She tossed the pebble into the stream.

I watched it vanish beneath the black water. “Not at all.”

“Of course it is.” She drew one knee toward her chest and wrapped her arms loosely around it.

“My father is a good king.” The defense came automatically, irritation prickling beneath my skin.

She rested her chin against her knee, saying, “I didn’t say he wasn’t.”

“He’s a good father.” I growled, holding her gaze.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t that either.” Her voice remained maddeningly even.

“Then what exactly is complicated?” I asked, sharper than necessary.

Her gaze dropped to the stream, the moonlight fracturing across its surface in pale ribbons.

“Wanting to be what your parents raised you to be when you aren’t sure you actually are.” She rubbed her thumb slowly across the seam of her boot, the words losing all trace of teasing.

That sounded remarkably specific. I watched her for several seconds, turning the words over and inspecting them.

“Is that what you’re doing?” I asked. “Trying to become whatever they decided you should be?”

Her thumb stopped.

“No names. No families.” She lifted her eyes to mine, a warning sitting beneath the softness. “You don’t get mine, and I don’t get yours.”

What an interesting reaction.

“You’re terrible at avoiding questions.” I leaned back slightly on my hands.

“You’re terrible at following rules.” She tipped her head. “You were going to ask who they are.”

“I was going to ask whether they’re important.” I wasn’t entirely sure that was true.

“They are to me.” She smiled, pleased with the answer.

“Clever.” A quiet laugh slipped from me.

“I have moments.” She settled more comfortably against the tree behind the log.

Silence stretched.

It should have become uncomfortable.

It didn’t.

That was the first thing about the night I couldn’t explain.

The second was that I stayed.