Men of the Otherworld by Kelley Armstrong Read Free Book Online

Next, my nose led me to the decaying carcass of a nutria and I ate. And life continued.
    Days, maybe weeks later, I was sunning myself on a rock by the bayou, enjoying one of the last rare bouts of early winter heat. A cloud kidnapped my sunlight, and I shifted my position. As I moved, I caught sight of something. It was him—the werewolf who'd beaten me—standing downwind less than twenty feet away. My heart jammed in my throat.
    He leaned against a tree, arms crossed. When I moved, his arms fell to his sides and his lips curved in a crooked, almost hesitant half-smile, nothing like the arrogant grin of my nightmares. Also, I remembered him as shorter, more muscular. Older, too. This man looked barely out of his teens. But the dark hair and something in his face matched my memories exactly.
    I began to wonder if I'd fallen asleep and was dreaming. I rubbed my eyes and looked around. Everything was as it should be. Everything except the intruder. I shaded my eyes from the sun to get a better look.
    Yes, this man definitely resembled the werewolf who'd invaded my den. Therefore it must be him. So why was I sitting here? Was I eager for another beating? My gaze slid from side to side, evaluating my escape options. The man was still watching me, making no move to approach.
    Maybe he didn't see me. I focused on his eyes. They were black and slightly slanted over high cheekbones. When I saw them, I knew this wasn't the man who'd violated my den. I had looked into the other man's eyes and I would never forget them.
    The stranger said something. The inflection reminded me of the other man, but the timbre was different, deep and low. He tilted his head and smiled, even more hesitant this time. Hespoke again. I barely heard him. My attention was focused on his body, waiting for the first twitch of movement. I was in human form, vulnerable.
    After a short silence, the man resumed talking, his voice low and soothing, the sentences stretching into a monologue. Then his left leg moved ever so slightly. I tensed. He stepped forward, moving slowly, still talking. I inched backward. My toes brushed water and I froze. I looked from side to side. The bayou surrounded me, blocking off all escape.
    The man continued his approach. I began to shake. He stopped, now only five feet away, then dropped to one knee. I watched his hands. He lifted them and turned them, palms toward me. Bending down more, he tried to make eye contact. His shoe slipped in the mud. At the sudden movement, I panicked. I leapt at him. He yanked back, fast, but not fast enough. My long nails raked down his forearm, three rivulets of blood springing up.
    He inhaled sharply. I fell back, shielding my head, waiting for the retaliatory blow. Everything in my early life had conditioned me to recognize this simple cause and effect. I cowered, head under my arm, eyes clenched tight.
    Nothing happened. My heart thudded. I knew this trick. He was waiting. The second I exposed myself, the blow would come, a cuff across the head or shoulders that I'd feel for days.
    I opened one eye, keeping my arm over my head. He crouched on his heels, tying a handkerchief around the wound with one hand. When he noticed me watching, he managed a pained half-smile. Then, still crouching, he eased backward and stood.
    I closed my eyes, tensed and waited. When I peeked again, he was gone.

Domestication
    Only a few hours passed before he returned. The day was darkening and I'd begun to hunt. I'd changed to a wolf, possibly in a subconscious reaction to the fear.
    I was chasing a mouse when I heard a noise behind me and turned to see the man step into the clearing. He smiled. I wheeled and ran.
    I ran full out until I was certain he wasn't following. Then I turned around and went back to find him.
    I crept through the undergrowth, ears perked. As I approached the clearing, I slowed, crawling along the ground, ready to bolt at the first sign that he saw me. I slunk into a thicket bordering the clearing.