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  The Hunter And The Hunted

  Kelley Armstrong

  From #1 New York Times bestselling author Kelley Armstrong comes two Otherworld short stories that take readers on an exhilarating honeymoon chase with werewolves Elena and Clay, and a mysterious mission through the afterlife with dark witch-turned-angel, Eve Levine.

  It's not a good sign when Elena Michaels and Clayton Danvers resort to everyday activities on their long-awaited honeymoon in St. Louis. But their encroaching boredom is about to take a back seat to an unexpected threat that catches Clay's attention. A non-pack werewolf is clearly stalking them – out to claim Elena for himself – and Clay has no intention of letting the upstart mutt spoil their romantic getaway, even if that means deceiving Elena as he pursues the rival werewolf on his own. Originally part of an anthology of supernatural romance stories, STALKED is the perfect introduction to Kelley Armstrong's Otherworld series and an action-packed interlude for fans to revisit some of their favorite characters.

  In OFF-DUTY ANGEL, dark witch and half-demon Eve Levine is desperate for a little entertainment while her lover Kristof Nash is detained in afterlife court – enough to volunteer an extra week's worth of angel corps duty just to pass the time. Luckily something even better comes up: a real celestial bounty-hunter mission to trail a shaman, someone who might prove to be a useful lead in Kristof's court case. Following the target goes smoothly, until he leads Eve to The British Museum, where she inadvertently steps into a secret dimensional passage and stumbles upon a far more enticing puzzle.and a much greater danger. Packed with suspense and surprising twists, OFF-DUTY ANGEL reveals fascinating new insights into a beloved series character.

  Kelley Armstrong

  The Hunter And The Hunted

  A book in the Otherworld Tales series, 2012

  Two Stories of the Otherworld

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  When my publishers asked if I’d consider writing an Otherworld short story for a pre-Thirteen eSpecial, I jumped at the chance. I knew exactly which character I wanted to write about: Eve Levine.

  When Eve was first introduced in the Otherworld series in Stolen, she didn’t actually appear in the book-she’d died before the story began. Eve was only important for the role she’d played in the life of her young daughter, Savannah, and for the problems her reputation and past would bring for Savannah’s new guardian, Paige.

  Yet as Eve developed, she became a fully-fledged character, itching for her time on stage. She got that chance in the fourth book of the series, Industrial Magic, when Paige winds up in the afterlife and Eve makes a fateful bargain to get her out.

  That bargain played out in the next book, Haunted, where Eve got her own story. She hasn’t been an easy character to work into the other books, though. Being in the afterlife, she exists in a separate world and can overlap with other characters’ stories only as a ghost. That limits her potential, which makes me thrilled for any chance to give her a story, as I do here, in Off-Duty Angel.

  Another Otherworld character who doesn’t get to narrate very often is Clayton Danvers. None of my guys do. When Bitten launched the series, the official title was Women of the Otherworld… and I was so happy to have an actual series that I didn’t stop to think that it meant my protagonists would all be women. So I quickly began “cheating” by letting the guys narrate short stories and novellas. One of the first of these stories was Stalked, which returns to my werewolves, Elena Michaels and Clayton Danvers, from Bitten. Stalked was originally published in the anthology My Big Fat Supernatural Honeymoon almost five years ago, which means most readers have missed it. I’ve been wanting to reprint it for a while, and this was my chance.

  As the Otherworld series draws to a close, it seems fitting to celebrate it with a return to Clay and Elena in Stalked. And Off-Duty Angel makes the perfect segue into Thirteen, where Eve will… Well, you’ll have to check out the excerpt for that.

  Happy reading!

  Stalked

  I had to get rid of the mutt.

  Killing him would be easiest but, unfortunately, it was out of the question. If Elena found out, I’d still be hearing about it ten years from now: “Clay couldn’t even get through our honeymoon without killing someone.”

  She’d laugh when she said it… in ten years. Right now, she’d be furious.

  She’d argue that there were better ways to handle the situation. I disagreed. The mutt knew we were in St. Louis and that by sticking around he was taking his life into his hands. If he’d skittered into the shadows and stayed out of our way, I’d have said, “Fuck it” and pretended not to notice. After all, it was our honeymoon.

  Even if he’d just stood his ground and refused to hide, I wouldn’t have made a big deal out of it. Beaten the crap out of him, yes. Had to. The Law was the Law, even if a mutt’s instinct to protect his territory was as strong as any Pack wolf’s. Let one mutt break the rules and next thing you knew, they’d be camping out back at Stonehaven, knocking on the door, asking if they could use the facilities.

  But this mutt wasn’t hiding or defending his territory. He was stalking Elena. He’d been following us all morning and was now sitting across the restaurant, gaze glued to Elena’s ass as she bent over the buffet table.

  When your mate is the only female werewolf, you get used to mutts sniffing around. I’d spent the last eighteen years dealing with it or, more often, watching her deal with it. With Elena, interference is not appreciated. She can fight her own battles, and she gets snippy if I rob her of the chance. But this was our honeymoon, and damned if I was going to let this mutt spoil it. He had to be dealt with before Elena realized he was stalking her. The question was how.

  When Elena walked back to our table, the mutt had the sense to busy himself gnawing on a sparerib.

  “You okay?” she asked as she slid into her seat. “You’ve been quiet since the Arch.”

  The mutt had started following us at the Gateway Arch.

  “Just hungry. I’m fine now.”

  “I should hope so. After three plates.” She buttered her bread, then studied me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I don’t know…” I shrugged and pretended to ease back in my chair, then I lunged and snagged bacon from her plate. I folded it into my mouth. “Nope, still hungry.”

  She brandished her fork. “Then get your own or-”

  I snatched another slice, too slow this time, and she stabbed the back of my hand. I yelped.

  “I warned you,” she laughed.

  The women at the next table stared in horror. Elena glanced their way. Five years ago, she would have blushed. Ten years ago, she would have found an excuse to leave. Today, she just murmured a rueful “Whoops” and dug into her potatoes.

  I went over and got another plate of food, avoiding the temptation to pass the mutt’s table. He’d made a point of staying downwind outside and now sat partially obscured by a pillar, too far away for his scent to carry. For now, I’d let him think he was safe, undetected.

  When I came back, Elena said, “I think I have an outing idea for us. Someone behind me in line was talking about a state park. Could be fun.” Her blue eyes glittered. “Of course, we shouldn’t go during the day when there are people around.”

  “Nope, we shouldn’t.” I speared a ham slab. “This afternoon then?”

  She grinned. “Perfect.”

  ***

  When you resort to everyday activities on your honeymoon, you know it’s not going well. Planning our second run already meant Elena was bored and trying very hard not to let me know it.

  The first couple of days had been great. With two-year-old twins at home, the only time we normally got away was when our Alpha, Jeremy, sent us to track do
wn a misbehaving mutt. Being on a mission doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves. There’s nothing like celebrating a successful hunt with sex. Or working out the frustration of a failed hunt with sex. Or dulling that edge of pre-hunt excitement with sex.

  But there was also something to be said for skipping the whole “track, capture and maim” part and being able to go straight to a hotel room and lock the door. Still, we could only stay in there for so long before we got restless, and when we came out, we’d discovered a problem with our honeymoon destination: There wasn’t a helluva lot to do.

  ***

  Back at the hotel, we called home and talked to the kids. Or they listened as we talked and had their answers interpreted by Jeremy. As much as we loved our daily call, we spent most of it braced for the inevitable “Momma? Daddy? Home?” or, in Kate’s case, “Mommy! Daddy! Home!” Jeremy managed to spare us this time, stopping as soon as Logan asked, “Momma where?” and bustling them off with his visiting girlfriend, Jaime.

  Next Jeremy and Elena would talk about the kids and discuss any new Pack or council business that had arisen. Normally, I’d listen in and offer my opinion-whether they wanted it or not-but today I told Elena I was going downstairs to grab a map and a bottle of water, then took off.

  ***

  I was reasonably sure the mutt hadn’t followed us from the restaurant, but I wanted to scout to be sure. We planned to walk back to the hotel, which would give him the opportunity to follow. A cab would have solved that, but if I’d voluntarily offered to spend time trapped in a vehicle with a stranger, Elena would have been on the phone to Jeremy, panicked that my arm was reinfected and I was sliding into delirium.

  So I’d suggested we take the long route back. The mutt hadn’t followed. Maybe he’d had second thoughts. If he’d heard the rumors about me, he’d know he could be setting himself up for a long and painful death. But if he’d believed that, he should have hightailed it the moment he crossed our path. So while I hoped, I didn’t trust.

  I grabbed a brochure on state parks, stuffed it into my back pocket, then headed out the front door to circle the hotel. I got five steps before his scent hit me. I stopped to retie my sneaker and snuck a look around.

  The bastard was right across the street. He sat on a bench facing the hotel, reading a newspaper. Cocky? Or just too young and inexperienced to know I could smell him from here?

  I straightened and shielded my eyes, as if scanning the storefronts. When I turned his way, he lifted the paper to hide his face, but slowly. Cocky. Shit.

  Normally, I’m happy to show an overconfident young mutt how I earned my reputation. At that age, one good thrashing is all it takes. But damn it, this was my honeymoon.

  I crossed the road and headed into the first alley.

  ***

  There were two ways the mutt could play this, depending on why he was stalking Elena. It could be his misguided way of challenging me. Stupid-any wolf knew his mate wouldn’t lift her tail for the first younger male who sauntered her way. Only a human would fly into a jealous rage and call a man out for it. But if challenging me was his goal, he’d follow me into the alley.

  Or he might really be after Elena. He wouldn’t be the first mutt to think she might not object to a new mate.

  I walked far enough into the alley to disappear, then crept back along the wall, lost in its shadow, stopping when I could see the hotel door. After a few minutes, a car horn blasted and a figure darted through the heavy traffic. It was the mutt, heading straight for the hotel.

  I loped down the alley, circled around the block, then came in the hotel side entrance, beside the check-in desk. I stopped there, partially hidden by a huge fake plant. The stink of the plastic fern overpowered everything else.

  I peered through the fronds. There he was, hovering at the other end of the desk, sizing up the staff. Hoping to get our room number?

  I stepped out. Just as he turned, a pale blond ponytail bounced past on the other side of the lobby. Elena.

  I turned away from the mutt before he realized I’d made him. I opened my mouth to hail Elena, then stopped. If she saw me, she’d head over here. Better for her to keep walking and I’d catch up outside the front doors-

  Shit. He’d walked in the front doors. His scent would still linger there, and Elena’s sense of smell is even better than mine. I started walking fast to cut her off.

  “Elena!”

  I yanked the park guide from my back pocket and waved it. I moved to the left, blocking her view of the mutt. She couldn’t smell him from here, but she was in charge of the Pack’s mutt dossiers and might recognize him.

  “Got the maps,” I said. “I was looking for water. I can’t find a damn machine-”

  She directed my attention to the gift shop.

  “Shit. Okay, let’s grab one and go.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the mutt watching us. Elena’s gaze traveled across the lobby. I took her elbow and wheeled her toward the gift shop.

  She peeled my fingers from her arm. “I’m looking-”

  “The gift shop’s behind you.”

  “No kidding. I’m looking for the parking garage exit. I was going to say we can get a water on the drive. It’s too expensive here.”

  “Good. I mean, right. The stairs are back there, by the elevators.”

  She nodded and let me lead the way.

  ***

  The park wasn’t busy, so avoiding humans was easy. That took some of the challenge out of it, but a new place to run is always good.

  We spent most of the afternoon as wolves, exploring and playing, working up a sharp hunger for the hunt. We’d found a few deer trails, but all of our tearing around scared the small herd into hiding. Probably just as well-in places like this, people pay attention to ripped-apart deer carcasses, and we’d have felt guilty later, knowing we’d nudged the line past acceptable risk. We settled for rabbits, the fat, dull-witted sort you find in preserves with few natural predators.

  The snack was enough to still the hunger pangs without making us sleepy, so we followed it up with more games, these taking on an edge, the snarls sharper, the nips harder, fangs drawing blood, working up to the inevitable conclusion-a fast Change back and hard, raw sex that left us scratched and bruised, happy and drowsy, stretched on the forest floor, bodies apart, feet entwined.

  I was on my back, shielding my eyes from the sun shifting through the trees, too lazy to move out of its way. Elena lay on her stomach, watching an ant crawl across her open palm.

  “What about a second stop for our honeymoon?” I asked.

  Her nose scrunched in an unspoken What?

  “Well, I know St. Louis isn’t shaping up to be everything you’d hoped…”

  “This afternoon is.” She grinned and rubbed her foot against mine. “I’m having a good time, but if you’re not…”

  How the hell was I supposed to answer that? No, darling, our honeymoon sucks. I’m bored and I want to go somewhere else.

  If it were true, I wouldn’t have minded saying so, though I supposed, being a honeymoon, I’d have to phrase it more carefully. Walking away from a threat set my teeth on edge, but it was better than having this mutt ruin our holiday. Still, given the choice between staying and making Elena think I was having a shitty time, something told me option one-even if it meant fighting a bigger, younger werewolf-was a whole lot safer.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “You just seemed a little… bored earlier.”

  Alarm brightened her eyes and she hurried to assure me she was most certainly not. I should have known. Any other time, Elena would have no problem telling me she wasn’t enjoying herself. But a honeymoon was different. It was a ritual and, as such, came with rules, and admitting she was bored broke them all.

  Shortly after I met Elena, I’d realized that while she squirmed and chafed under the weight of human rules and expectations, there was one aspect of them she embraced almost to the point of worship: rituals. Like Christmas. Ask Elena to bring cookies
for the parent-and-tot picnic and she’ll buy them at the bakery and then dump them into a plastic container so they’d look homemade. But come mid-December, she’ll whip herself into a frenzy of baking, loving every minute because that’s part of Christmas.

  When the subject of “making it official for the kids’ sake” came up, I knew she’d want the ritual-a real wedding, the kind she’d dreamed of eighteen years ago when we’d bought the rings, her face alight with dreams of a white dress and a new life and happily-ever-after.

  Instead of the happily-ever-after, she got a bite on the hand and the kind of new life that had once existed only in her nightmares.

  I won’t make excuses for what I did. The truth is that your whole life can change with one split-second decision, and it doesn’t matter if you told yourself you’d never do it or if you stepped into that moment with no intention of doing it. All it takes is that one second of absolute panic when the solution shines right there in front of you, and you grab it… only to have it turn to ash in your hand. There is no excuse for what I did.

  After I bit Elena, it took eleven years for her to forgive me. Forgetting what I’d done to her, though, was impossible. It was always there, lurking in the background.

  When Elena vetoed a wedding, I thought it was just the weight of human mores again-that it didn’t feel right when we already had kids. So I’d decided I’d give her one, as a surprise. Jeremy talked me out of it, and it was then, as he waffled and circled the subject of “why not,” that I finally understood. There could be no wedding because every step-from sending invitations to walking down the aisle-would only remind her of the wedding she’d planned all those years ago and the hell she’d gone through when it all fell apart.