4 Downwind

In human form, Jayden Conaway stalked the rogue shifter lion. The rogue, in human form as well, sauntered up the downtown street in Austin, Texas earbuds blasting country music, iPhone illuminating his sullen face. Oblivious.

The rogue was either new or stupid. Probably both.

Bad news for the rogue. Good news for Jayden.

Jayden shook his head, disgusted. Even before turning shifter, he'd never had been this much of an ignorant moron. He wrinkled his nose as the rogue lit a cigarette, and the smell of tobacco obscured the scents of downtown at night. But even cigarette smoke couldn't cover the stench of human death that coated the rogue.

He was a killer. He had to die. Not just because killing humans threatened the secrecy of all shifter communities. Not just because Jayden believed it to be his moral obligation. But because this rogue belonged to the den that Jayden had disbanded two days ago. The den where he'd seen the female.

Focus. He admonished himself.

Jayden narrowed his eyes on the rogue who stopped under a flickering streetlight and hit the voice-to-text button on his phone.

"I'm heading over to The Lost Ranch to get me some pussy. If you're nice to me, I just might share."

Without waiting for a response, the rogue pocketed his phone, and music blasted through his earbuds once more.

If Jayden wanted to, he could creep up on the rogue and break his neck without even breaking a sweat. But he wasn't a killer. Oh, he'd killed plenty of times, but he never enjoyed it. And after each death, he kept hope alive that he would never have to kill again. But this time, death was necessary. But first, Jayden needed information. The short, scrawny rogue was his best lead, and Jayden wasn't about to screw up the most important hunt of his life.

A detailed picture of the woman he saw in the rogue's den rose in his mind's eye like a corporeal vision. Soulful brown eyes framed by thick, black lashes. Long auburn hair fell in soft waves down her back. Lush curves drove him to distraction every time he thought of them, which was nonstop since he'd first seen her.

He shook himself free of the decadent picture she made. Ever since he'd fought the rogues with his friend, Venor, he'd become obsessed with finding and claiming her—a woman whose name he didn't even know—as his mate.

When she'd run from the rogue lion's den, run from him, every instinct, human and miun, had roared at him to give chase. But he'd stopped himself because he knew that if he hadn't cleaned out the den, there would be even more rogues on the loose, and she'd be in even more danger than she was now. Besides, he knew he'd find her. There was nowhere on God's green Earth, that she could hide from him now that he knew her scent.

So, he'd stayed with his friends Venor and Kissa and done his job—his duty to neutralize rogues before they could kill again. He'd neutralized the rogues and ensured his friends were safely back with their pride in the little town of Oakview, Texas.

Now he followed his best chance of finding his mate into The Lost Ranch, a hole-in-the-wall bar on the corner of Ninth Street and Woodlawn Road. The minute he walked into the dark, dank place, he snarled in disgust. Where was a good health inspector when you needed one? Seemed like someone from the Health Department showed up every other day at Ralph's, the bar where Jayden bartended before he became miun.

The squelching noises his boots made on the sticky floor took him back to the coke and candy-coated floors in the dollar movie theater he snuck into as a kid. The tables and chairs looked like they were all on their last spindly legs. The bar looked like something out of Dali's painting, the pale wood warped, the far end dramatically sloping, the stool legs gangly and unsteady looking. Even worse, it was a hick bar—filled with good ol' boys—making him the only black person there.

So much for blending in.

Giving the heavily bearded bartender a nod of respect, he ignored the curious looks he received from the patrons and reached out with his mind to locate the rogue since he couldn't see him through the dim lighting and heavy smoke.

One positive that came out of him being attacked and turned miun was the ability he developed to hear others' thoughts and feel their emotions. The gift was unstable. He was still learning how to use his mind-walking ability, but his hunting skills went through the roof when they worked.

"Hey there." A blonde waif of a woman cantered up to him, her long limbs and odd gait reminding him of a horse. "I'm Clare."

"Ma'am," he said, giving her a nod. He hoped to God she saw his nod as the dismissal it was, but no, she didn't give up that easy.

Sliding her cool hand up his bare arm, she gave him a sly pout. "Ma'am?" Her voice held a slick sulk that matched her pout. "Hope that's just your manners talking."

Jayden pulled away from her too late. With her touch came an intimate knowledge of Clare. Her boyfriend, Larry, had recently dumped her for another woman for the second time this year. She was looking for a good one-night stand and thought he fit the bill. She'd never been with a black man before and found him exotic, exciting. Forbidden fruit.

How embarrassing for her.

Taking a short step back, he said, "I'm taken."

Clare lifted one sharp eyebrow and peered around him. "Looks to me like you're alone."

So much for taking a hint. Still, he felt sorry for her. She was looking for a boost in self-esteem and badly needed it. "Ma'am," he said, giving her a long look, "if I weren't in love with another woman—"

"Oh, come on. Just a drink. That's all I'm asking for here. No expectations. No strings. Just a beer." She hooked her bony arm in his and tugged at him. Relentless.

Through protecting her ego, he pulled away, simply saying, "Not interested."

She inhaled sharply, her spine straightening, her head coming up. "Oh, lordie!" she said loudly."Never thought I'd see the day a gay, black man would walk into this bar!"

Jayden sighed as heads swiveled their way, bleary eyes evaluating him through the smoky room. Great. Just great. More attention.

He stepped around her and reached out with his mind, searching for the rogue. There. By the bathrooms in the back…looking his way. The rogue's thoughts told Jayden that he was suddenly aware of what Jayden was, and what he was there for.

Too late, buddy.

The rogue spun and hit the back exit. An alarm sounded, jerking the drunks from their stupors. Jayden crossed the room with quick strides, cursing under his breath. An old man with a mustache the color of strawberries knocked his chair over, got up, and yelled, "Fire!"

Chaos ensued.

The bartender barked for everyone to stay calm. A waitress dumped a full tray of drinks on a table and instructed her customers to head for the front door. Drunks weaved on their feet, confused, disoriented, blocking his path, getting in his way. When he finally reached the back door and exited into the narrow alley, the rogue was nowhere to be seen.

"Fuck."

Jayden took off at a run, following the rogue's scent. Genet, the pride's former mane mie or leading female, had gone mad and made these rogues. To what purpose, no one knew, but Venor's mate, Kissa, had been forced to kill her dam, her mother, to protect the pride. Genet could not be allowed to live, and neither could her rogues.

On Woodlawn Road, he took a sharp right and kept running. In a way, Jayden felt sorry for the rogues. He could relate to them, even. Jayden had not been born miun. He had been made by another rogue and had nearly lost his humanity to the lion that lived inside him. If not for Latif, the pride's mane miu or leading male, Jayden would have gone rogue too. But the Oakview pride had taken him in—if not fully embraced him—and helped him balance his human and animal sides.

There. Just ahead of him, the rogue took a right on Third Street. Jayden poured on the speed, catching up to him and slamming him into a heavily tagged brick wall. He could smell the madness on the rogue, feel the murders he had committed, and know that he would have to put him down like all the others. Just once Jayden would like to find a rogue that was still sane, still savable.

Like him.

But unlike Jayden, the rogue had the death of innocents on his hands. The murders, one after another, roared through his head, dizzying him. And the rogue took advantage of his hesitation, shifting his teeth and snapping at his exposed neck.

Jayden ducked his chin, barely avoiding having his throat ripped out. He bashed the rogue's head into the wall, stunning him. The rogue's greasy head made a sick crunching sound, his skull fracturing.