Huntsman - Morgan Brice Page 0,28

could find for this overwhelming feeling. He hoped that someday, he might feel it just as strongly as a man as he did as a fox.

Maybe someday.

Liam darted among the trees, nearly drunk on the heady smell of balsam. His runs back in Ithaca had been short and careful, limited to a few parks where he felt safe. He hadn’t known to fear Kelson, but he did have a healthy respect for Animal Control and had no desire to wind up on the wrong end of a dogcatcher’s pole.

His human side couldn’t help being intrigued by the cemetery behind the weathered stone church. This was the old section, with stones and monuments clearly dating back to the middle of the eighteen-hundreds. Liam vowed to come back in his skin to read the inscriptions. Maybe he could find someone steeped in local history to show him around and tell him stories. Wandering old graveyards was a passion, one he had not indulged in a long time.

Do shifters bury their dead here? Or does it vary by the type? Liam’s mother had no skulk of her own, and so when she passed, he had mourned her in human fashion. He’d known only a few shifters and none of them well enough to pick their brains about shifter etiquette. What little he found online hadn’t always been accurate. Maybe now that he was in Fox Hollow, he could embrace his full shifter heritage, without fear or shame.

I bet our wolf could teach us a lot of new tricks, his fox said with a smirk.

Liam chose to ignore his other side and trotted along the edge of the woods, crossing over from the older section directly behind the church to the more recent gravesites in an adjacent plot.

New markers just don’t have the same style and artistry, Liam thought. The old stones seem more personal, less slick.

Liam caught Russ’s scent before he spotted the man striding through the new section of the cemetery. He paused to watch, hidden in the shadows among the trees, enjoying the view as Russ moved with power and confidence. His wolf is never far from the surface. I wonder if he sees the fox in me?

At first, Liam thought Russ might just be out for a walk, looking for a bit of peace at the end of a busy day. But then he could see that Russ had a purpose, heading for one stone in particular.

Hmm. Who is he visiting? His mother? A friend? His fox nature craved knowledge, and it took all of Liam’s restraint to keep from trotting over and sticking his pointy nose into Russ’s business.

Russ hunkered down in front of a glossy black stone. His lips moved, but at this distance, even Liam’s fox hearing couldn’t pick up the words. Russ’s one-sided conversation went on for a while. From the hunch of his shoulders and the way he kept his head bowed, every line of his body showed his grief.

Liam twitched his ears, a nervous habit. Russ’s scent seemed different, heavier. Sad. An overwhelming need to comfort and protect swept over Liam, something he’d never felt before. His fox might be smaller and lighter than Russ’s wolf, but he was just as much a predator, and he could be a fury of fangs and claws when necessary. Now, everything in him fought to be at his mate’s side, steadying him and watching his back.

Mate, his fox snarled. Our mate is in pain.

If it were up to their animals, Liam wouldn’t have doubted his presence was welcome. But their human sides also had a say, and no matter what Liam sensed about their connection and attraction, they were nearly strangers. He didn’t have the right to intrude.

Finally, Russ stood. Perhaps his wolf caught Liam’s scent, because he turned just as Liam tried to fade into the forest. Had he caught a glimpse? Liam waited until he was certain that Russ was gone.

He padded out into the fading light and made for the headstone where Russ had paid his respects.

Anthony Moretti, the stone read, with two intertwined hearts and the dates. Beneath that, Beloved husband, gone too soon. Always remembered.

Husband.

The thought sent a shock of emotion through him, strong enough to make him quiver. He’d expected the headstone to belong to a family member or a close friend, but not a partner. By the dates, Russ’s late husband had been gone for two years, which was barely time to grieve so deep a loss.

He figured Russ to