In the Werewolf's Den Read Free

slapping her on the back. “Keep his teeth as a souvenir of your first kill. Believe me, I'll recommend you as a vampire hunter. You've got what it takes."
    Danielle smiled weakly. She'd done it. Notched up her required kill, managed a successful raid, and gotten a word of encouragement from the woman every cadet dreaded. She should feel great.
    She vomited against the wall.

Chapter 1
    He didn't look like a werewolf.
    Danielle straightened her uniform tunic, then continued to watch the Were , her eyes hidden behind her mirrored sunglasses. The Were stepped toward her, his tawny eyes staring as if they could pierce the protection of her shades and see into her soul. Even in his prison coveralls, he looked powerful, in control of the situation.
    She knew he was young, in his early thirties, but a hint of silver dusted the jet black of his hair. His footsteps were silent on the hard concrete floor.
    Danielle took a deep breath and reminded herself that she was in charge. She was the warder. He was just another impaired. Her prisoner.
    "Dr. Carl Harriman?"
    He stopped. “I'm Harriman."
    "The courts have heard your appeal. Pending the results of your research, you are released from interment and remanded into my custody."
    She was prepared for gratitude. For earnest shedding of tears. His curt nod was unexpected, chilling.
    "About time they got around to it. And who the hell are you?"
    Danielle drew herself to her full five foot eight. “Warder Agent Danielle Goodman. On temporary assignment as a herder.” Very temporary assignment, she hoped. When Joe Smealy had called her in to his office, she'd expected to be commissioned as a vampire hunter, not relegated to the low-status position as herder. Joe hadn't had time to give her details, but she planned on getting them soon. She'd graduated first in her class from the Warder Academy. She'd taken special training in martial arts, in hypnotic resistance, in emergency transfusions. She had even bought the black-on-black casual dress uniform of a hunter-agent. That uniform took up half the space in the workout bag that held all of her possessions. Wearing it would have to wait until she proved herself once more.
    "Wonderful. Danielle, is it? Well, I guess I'm stuck with you."
    Discourage fraternization. She couldn't count the number of times that message had been beaten into their heads in the Academy. “My name is Agent Goodman, not Danielle."
    Harriman's laugh was short—almost a bark. “If we're going to be living together, I really think we should be on a first-name basis."
    She bristled. “We aren't living together, as you put it. I'm your herder. You are a late-arrival were , released on sufferance, thanks to the generosity of the people of the State of Texas."
    "Very generous, indeed.” He paused a beat. “Agent Goodman."
    His sarcastic tone sent her hand reaching for the silver-tipped nightstick that all herders carried. She had to maintain dominance. Were , like the dogs many people had kept as pets before the return of magic, needed to know who was master. She pulled the stick slowly from her belt, slapped it against a gloved hand, and stared.
    He looked back, unmoved by the threat that the silver represented. Didn't he know what it could do to him? Maybe he didn't. According to his documentation, he'd turned himself over to the authorities as soon as he'd been visited with his impairment. That quick decision had protected him from the fearful mob that would normally surround an impaired discovered living outside the zone.
    He was only a were . Even so, Danielle decided his tone of voice was not enough to warrant using the nightstick.
    "Let's get you situated in a lab,” Danielle said. The sooner she could get him to work, the sooner he could discover whatever it was that had gotten him out of prison and the sooner she could move on to her next assignment. Preferably one involving hunting vampires rather than herding lowlife Were .
    "I've been in prison for six