Blind Wolf Bluff: Shifter Romance (Vanguard Elite Book 3)

  Blind Wolf Bluff

  By

  Annie Nicholas

  Vanguard Elite, book 3

  Table Contents

  Note to Readers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  More Books by Annie!

  About Annie

  Note to Readers:

  Every time I return to the Vanguard world, it’s like taking a trip down memory lane. I’ve never been the type of person who fits in with the popular crowd. I marched to the beat of my own drum, even now as an author. So why wouldn’t I love writing about the outcasts of the wolf shifter packs. Sometimes a woman just wants to root for the underdogs.

  To receive updates on future releases, contests, and events join my mailing list.

  Chapter One

  The macabre photos pinned to Agent Sonya Camp’s corkboard should have turned her stomach. She studied the close-ups of burnt corpses. Victims. Young women torn from their families forever.

  She checked her watch. Was it time for lunch already?

  “When was the last time you ate?” William, the task force’s lead investigator, leaned against the door frame of the office. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and he’d lost his tie on the return trip from the last crime scene.

  “When was the last time you slept?” She took a sip of her drink and grimaced, the bitter taste of cold coffee coated her tongue. The pressure to catch their serial killer was increasing every hour. He’d already murdered three women in the Chicago area in the last two weeks. The third body had been found earlier today.

  “Touché.” William sat in the chair next to hers, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. They stared at the carnage on the corkboard. “This guy is a monster.”

  The killer burned his victims once they were dead, leaving little to no physical evidence. Sonya felt as useful as an empty water bottle in the Sahara desert. The leads were slim and far apart. FBI agents had to maintain public confidence, but cracks were starting to form in their poise and the press hounded their every move.

  Sonya glanced at the table against the far wall covered in forensic reports. They needed a break in the case before the killer added another victim to his sick list.

  The office door opened and Sean, another agent on their team, entered with a man.

  No—a werewolf.

  She resisted the urge to curl her lip. Asking the local pack for assistance hadn’t been her idea. Shifters made unreliable partners.

  William rose and offered his hand. “Thank you for your time, Alpha.”

  The shifter shook his hand. “Eric is fine. The Vanguards are at your disposal.”

  Sonya joined them by the door. “I doubt we’ll need the whole pack. Did you find anything useful?” She directed her question to Sean, who had come up with the idea of using a shifter to smell the crime scene. The FBI had dogs for that, but they couldn’t talk back like a werewolf, so William had agreed.

  Sonya preferred dogs to wolves. They knew how to heel.

  “The scents were too tangled,” Eric answered for Sean, his stare slightly hostile. “Too many people walked the crime scene for me to track. It’s like trying to unknot a tangle of strings.”

  Her heart sank. She had tried not to place any hope on the werewolf, but apparently she had. “What if we called you early to the next crime scene?”

  “Sonya!” William had his hands on his hips as he frowned.

  “What? We all know they’ll be another. We haven’t stopped him and we won’t without divine intervention at this point.” She turned her attention back to Eric. “Could you identify a scent that matches at this crime scene?”

  The alpha gave her a slow blink. “Like store the smells in my memory? All thirty-two of them?”

  She hung her head. “I take that as a no.”

  Every cop in Chicago was strung tight searching for a faceless ghost. Another burned body would be found and more of her soul would shrivel to dust.

  What kind of world was she trying to protect where innocent women were allowed to die like this?

  Eric rubbed his chin. “I can’t, but I know someone who might be able to help you. He’s reported to have special smelling abilities.” He gave the agents an uneasy look. “But you have to make some concessions.”

  “Is this person illegal?” William stood straighter, appearing more like the chief investigator Sonya had met two weeks ago.

  “No.” Eric let that answer fade. “But it’s pack business and humans don’t seem to understand we do things differently.”

  William set his hand on Sonya’s shoulder before she could speak. “Whatever you need, Alpha.”

  Eric gave them a sharp nod. “He’s not in Chicago. I’ll send for him and, Agent Camp, I want your personal assurance that he’s taken care of while he assists your investigation.”

  She managed to keep her exterior calm, but inside she cringed. “Why me?”

  “Because you asked for him.” The alpha turned and left them staring at an empty doorway.

  “Well, that was cryptic.” Sean picked up her cold coffee and finished it off.

  “Nice, Sean. I wanted to finish that.” How had she become a werewolf babysitter?

  ***

  Blain viewed the world differently than everyone else. Just because his eyes didn’t work, that didn’t mean he couldn’t see.

  As a wolf shifter, he’d learned his other senses could help him maneuver as well—or even better—than others of his kind. He was considered legally blind in the human world, but as a shifter, he didn’t need eyes to see. What his vision lacked, his hearing and nose provided.

  His pack surrounded the practice ring, creating enough noise that it wouldn’t surprise Blain if the deaf could hear them. It made judging his moves more difficult as he had to adjust his perception of the ground from the sound waves. The ring was covered in other shifters’ blood and sweat, smearing the scents, but he was very familiar with the terrain. Even more familiar with his pack mates’ weaknesses. Hispack would agree after Blain kicked their asses individually all week.

  Blain stripped off his loose sweater and tossed it on the snowy ground, getting ready for his turn to fight.

  Cold air bit at his exposed arms. Contrary to popular belief, shifters weren’t immune to the cold, but being bare-chested meant his opponent didn’t have anything to grab.

  Speaking of his opponent, who would Ian pick to fight him?

  Pallas, their vampire trainer, had the bootcamp practicing hand-to-hand combat. As most shifters, this came naturally to wolves. Pack hierarchy was determined by winning challenges. The strongest, the smartest, the fastest—however they won—rose in rank. From the time they changed from human to shifter, they learned to fight. Or to heal. Depending on their skill.

  Training should have been simple, right?

  Pallas wanted them to determine bootcamp hierarchy in a single week. What took packs a lifetime to figure out, they had seven days. To make things bittersweet, the lowest five members were going to be sent home. That would leave twenty-five shifters in training. Twenty-six, if Blain included the ass-wipe
Alistair, who was healing from a gunshot wound on their pack room couch.

  The sharp scent of wintergreen pine mixed with determination and pride drifted around Blain, followed by a light crunch of boots on the crisp snow.

  Blain rose from his ready stance. “You’ve got to be kidding. Clare?” He had to shout over the noise of the crowd. She had no place in these fights. Her position was solidified as alpha.

  She laughed. “Afraid?”

  “Shouldn’t I be fighting Darrell or Yanis?” He should be. He’d beaten everybody else.

  “Darrell doesn’t want the beta position and Yanis prefers being a sigma.”

  Alphas led the pack; betas were second in command and sigmas were the packs defensive role. Yanis always was more of a protector than a fighter.

  “Okay…” He heard her pacing and bent his knees to prepare for an attack. “Why are we fighting?”

  “Because I want to. I need to know what my beta can do.”

  “Shit.” He ducked as he sensed a shift in the air. Clare’s punch skimmed past his ear. “I can’t hit a girl.” Especially his alpha’s mate. This was a no-win situation.

  Their audience cheered even louder.

  “So I’ve noticed.” She feinted to the left and he fell for it. Then she came in close, smashing her fist into his nose.

  Sharp pain exploded in his face as his head whipped back. He tasted blood and went down on a knee.

  “I don’t have a problem hitting the disabled.” The sound of her steps changed as she bounced lightly on her toes.

  He jumped out of the way from her next hit. His nose throbbed. It would swell and leave him scent-blind until it healed. That would be an hour of hell with only sound and shadows as companions.

  The bitch knew his weakness.

  Something caught his ankles and he hit the ground flat on his back, jarring his teeth right down to the roots.

  “Fight!” Yanis shouted next to his head as if Blain had lost his hearing as well.

  Blain sprang to his feet and skipped to the right. The bootcamp wolves practiced at night so he had little shadow play to judge by with his limited sight.

  Clare’s steps sounded even lighter. She must have kicked off her shoes. God, she hated losing and would mop-up the challenge ring with his blood if he didn’t pull his shit together.

  She had started the fight in human form and he didn’t have time to shift. She’d skin him alive by the time he finished changing. He couldn’t shift fast like her and Ian.

  “Kick her in the balls,” Yanis shouted again. He was always helpful, that one.

  Blain stilled and breathed, letting the air flow over his skin, telling him what he needed to know. The hairs on his arm tingled with Clare’s advance. Her scent, though faded with his swelling nose, grew stronger to his left. Her foot dragged as she swung her next punch.

  Ducking low, he sensed her arm as it brushed over his hair. Blain grabbed her wrist, letting Clare’s momentum work for him as he flipped her over his body.

  She twisted, but he recognized the maneuver from training. He grabbed her ankle and slammed her into the frozen ground, pinning her small body under his knees. Before Clare could react, Blain grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it in her face.

  “Blain!”

  He added more. “Snow job.” She was from Colorado with lots of brothers. She knew the drill.

  Clare grabbed his hair and head butted him.

  He fell onto his back, head spinning.

  She sat on his chest. “Can’t you take anything seriously?”

  Air was forced out of Blain’s lungs and he gasped, only to be smothered in snow. It tasted vaguely of dirt and sweat. He coughed then grinned, swinging his arms and legs back and forth in the snow, making a snow angel. He sensed the tension in her body melt. Much better. She took everything too seriously and she needed to know he had no intention of ever trying to replace Ian, their alpha and her mate.

  Even though he could have so kicked Ian’s ass. Blain, like Darrell, didn’t have any desire to lead others. Second in command did have a nice ring to it, though.

  Her body shook with laughter before she smashed another handful of snow into his face.

  The noise of the crowd lessened, turning to laughter and fading as the other shifters departed for the manor.

  “I guess we’re done for the night?” Blain spat muck and rolled Clare off his chest.

  “No, but we’re taking a break. Pallas wants to see you in his office.”

  Blain maneuvered his way inside the manor, taking his time. Not because he wasn’t in a hurry. His busted nose made following the usual scent trails harder.

  Aha, there was the one he wanted.

  The fresh scent of vampire led him to their taskmaster in the basement. Blain entered his office and stood at attention. Clare said he didn’t take things seriously. Not true. He took dealing with Pallas very seriously. He could smell things from people, such as lies and emotion. Death clung to Pallas like a morbid cape. He might act civilized, but underneath lived a cold-blooded killer. Blain wasn’t going to be the one to let that part of Pallas escape.

  The vampire sat at his desk. The chair creaked as he leaned back. “I just finished speaking with the alpha of the Vanguards pack. Apparently, I’m lending you to the FBI.”

  Chapter Two

  The airline stewardess took Blain’s hand as if he were a child and led him out of the plane. He would have bumped less people and chairs if she’d let him maneuver on his own. Roaring engines didn’t help his hearing and the tunnel to the airport muffled the sound, disorienting him.

  He hated new places.

  Once out of the confined space, he pulled his hand free and extended his cane with a snap. “Thank you for the assistance. I can manage from here.” He could have managed from the plane, but she smelled of compassion and worry. She’d wanted to do a good deed. Who was he to deny her? His pride wasn’t so huge he couldn’t swallow it for five minutes.

  Sound carried differently in an airport with its high ceilings. He compensated for the change and followed the thickest scent trail of people. Silhouettes passed in his limited vision, which helped him avoid stepping on a child. He’d only brought a small rolling carry-on so he wouldn’t need to ask for help locating his bag on the conveyor.

  “You must be Blain,” a deep male voice spoke to his left.

  Blain held out his hand. “You must be Daedalus.” Pallas had explained that his brother would meet him here. He’d forgotten to mention his brother was also a vampire. That explained the need for taking a Red-Eye flight from Albany, New York to Chicago. Sunlight was deadly to their kind. “Who’s the wolf with you?” Blain could smell the shifter.

  The vampire shook his hand, making his knuckles crack. “This is Eric, alpha of the Vanguards pack.”

  “I’m honored, Alpha.” Blain bent his head in submission. Everyone at bootcamp had exchanged stories about the Vanguards, who funded their training.

  Eric squeezed Blain’s shoulder. “Nice to finally lay eyes on you.”

  “You’ve heard of me?” This was the alpha that had started the change. He’d brought back the Accords, sent the copies of the ancient code of conduct to present day packs. He and his small pack of unusual wolves had taken Chicago by storm with the help of Daedalus.

  The alpha chuckled. “Pallas keeps us apprised of everything in the bootcamp. We’re even recruiting the next wave already.”

  “Do you need help with your luggage?” the vampire asked.

  “No, I pack light.”

  “Pallas tells me you can see with your nose.” Curiosity was clear in Daedalus’ voice. Air rushed by Blain and he retreated as the vampire waved a hand in front of his face.

  “Oh my God, I can’t take you anywhere.” Eric’s words were followed by a smack as if he hit Daedalus upside the head.

  “Look, he moved. It’s not like I hit him,” the vampire responded.

  Blain rubbed the bruise on his chin where Clare had landed a punch. �
�Unlike my alpha female.” An uncomfortable silence followed. “Hand-to-hand combat training.”

  “Pallas reported you had earned the beta position. Second in command is quite an achievement.” For a blind shifter. He didn’t have to say it for Blain to hear it. Eric shuffled his feet. “This way to the car. The task force is eager to meet you. I hope you’re not too tired. They wanted us to bring you to their office straightaway for a meet and greet.”

  Listening to their footsteps, Blain followed them out of the airport. “Yeah, about that…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “What is it they want? Pallas was kind of vague.”

  That was putting it mildly. Blain had been handed a plane ticket, told to pack an overnight bag, and not to embarrass the bootcamp.