Darla’s muscles trembled seconds before she launched herself, shifting in midair as she flew at the man. But the gun never went off. The wolf she’d scented earlier now stood behind the human. The hand holding the gun was crushed, the neck snapped.

Yanking herself away so as not to hurt the wolf, Darla somersaulted back, her wolf body slamming into a large tree. When she hit the ground, she looked up at the male wolf. She didn’t recognize him as someone she personally knew, but she knew he was a Smith. Normal wolves didn’t have shoulders that wide or necks that thick. He also had a full beard and dark hair that hung to his shoulders and in his face, making her wonder how he managed to see anything at all.

He stepped toward her, wolf eyes glaring down at her. At least . . . she thought he might be glaring. It was hard to tell.

Darla started to stand up but the glaring Smith wolf pulled the biggest hunting knife she’d ever seen. Positive he was about to cut her throat because he considered her weak by Smith standards, she recoiled away from him, her back pressing into the tree.

He didn’t, however, kill her, but turned and threw that knife, impaling the human male who’d been coming up behind him.

That’s when Darla realized that the first human hadn’t been alone. Lord. How many humans were running around her little town? Where were the town’s deputies? Where were the other Smith and Lewis wolves? The bears? The lions? Was everybody at the bar just drinking? How was this acceptable?

But most importantly, why did all these human males seem to be coming to her? Honestly, Darla would be in big trouble if it weren’t for this oversized Smith wolf who looked like he never smiled.

The wolf walked over to the human male, who was now on his knees, the life from him gone. Before the body dropped to the ground, the wolf yanked the knife from the human’s head and snatched the gun from the human’s hand. The wolf had just tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans when another human charged.

Darla would have warned the wolf but she didn’t have to. He moved so fast, yanking a second hunting knife from a sheath tied to his thick thigh. Slicing up, cutting the inside of the man’s leg, then he stood and slashed the blades across, nearly taking the man’s head off.

Again the wolf looked down at her, bringing one big forefinger to his lips. “Sssssh,” he whispered and disappeared into the woods.

Although Darla didn’t see anything, she could hear well enough. The sounds of dying men as that big wolf went about killing them. Something that would normally horrify Darla. She was a pacifist after all. And yet . . . she wasn’t horrified; she just didn’t know why.

Then she felt something sticky under her paw. She leaned down, sniffed. Blood. Her blood.

It must have been when she’d hit the tree. She knew she’d hit it hard but not this hard. She thought about calling out to her family.Howling. Or even calling to the wolf. But she was suddenly so weak and tired.

Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a bit . . .

Eggie finished the last human, his hand around the man’s mouth, one of his favorite knives tearing open a hole from bowel to stomach. When the man stopped struggling, he dropped the body, took the weapon, and headed back toward the little Lewis girl. He briefly stopped to pull his second favorite knife from the open mouth of the other man, quickly wiping it on the man’s clothes before sliding the blade back into its sheath.

He stepped out of the woods into the small clearing.

“You all right?” he softly asked the She-wolf, his gaze scanning the woods for any more skulking humans—the only species he knew that skulked, by the way. But when he didn’t get an answer, he focused on her.

She looked like she was sleeping but he doubted it. Poor little thing had been too terrified for a wolf-nap. He walked over and crouched beside her, his wolf gaze instantly picking up the blood that had pooled in the leaves she’d landed in. He remembered her body hitting the tree, so he pulled her a bit away from the trunk and saw what appeared to be a low-growing branch that jutted out.

Carefully, Eggie felt around the back of the She-wolf’s neck and found the wound. If she’d been human, she’d be dead, but she was wolf and that had saved her life.

Sighing, Eggie glanced back at the trail that would lead to the Lewis family house. He could still hear his and her idiot kin arguing and, to be quite honest, he was damn unimpressed with this town’s idea of basic protection. An infiltration like this would never have happened in Smithtown. Any outsiders were caught at territorial lines and, if their presence was just an accident, and they hadn’t seen anything they shouldn’t have seen, then they were sent on their way with a good ol’ Tennessee, “We don’t like strangers ’round here” dismissal. But, if they were trying to get on Smithtown territory or if they did see something that couldn’t be explained away—then things were handled differently. Often by the females of the town.

Smith females really didn’t like strangers on their territory.

But apparently Smithville, North Carolina, handled things differently with their human witch covens and mixed species all living together in sin. Just wasn’t right. Wolves belonged with wolves. Bears with bears. Cats with cats. And foxes should be put down on sight. That was the proper way of things. He honestly didn’t feel right about rushing the pretty little Lewis She-wolf back to the relatives or Pack who hadn’t been able to protect her in the first place.

So he didn’t.

Nope. Instead, Eggie Ray Smith picked that little gal up and carried her to his car. True, he’d driven his brothers here but they could find their own way back.