Wow, it's been forever since I updated this story. Sorry. I've been working on Transformers projects. But I just got Fair Game, so I have been inspired to continue with Alyssa's story.

I sometimes wish I owned a werewolf, but most of these belong to Patricia Briggs.

Chapter 4: Stronger

(Alyssa's POV)

I watched the russet wolf – Charles – as he tracked the two wolves that had turned Blake and me. He moved like he'd done this before – which I supposed he had. He moved like one of my trackers, but with more grace. As if sensing my scrutiny, he glanced back over one rust-red shoulder and regarded me for a long moment. I let him. Then, impatient to get on with the hunt, I met his gaze and growled softly to let him know it was time to keep moving. His ears went back. Mine did not. I narrowed my eyes instead and curled my lip. He looked away.

He is very dominant, my wolf murmured. But if he crosses us, he will learn that we are stronger than him. She sounded almost sympathetic when she added, that wily old wolf hasn't met many who can stand up against him, let alone a wolf who can make him look away.

Surprises keep the senses sharp. If he's old enough that we bother him, he needs to learn more tricks to keep him on his toes, I replied, allowing a wolfish grin to show on my wolfish face. Blake, trotting at my shoulder, nudged me gently. I turned and he flicked his ears worriedly at Charles, then at me.

He wants to know if we're going to fight that relic again, my wolf guessed. I nipped Blake's silvery shoulder and did a wolf's version of a shrug – a twitch of my shoulder fur. Which was a bit sore, like the rest of me, from Changing so often in the past hour or so. Human and back was a lot for me in so short a time – though the redwolf didn't seem to have any trouble with it.

(Normal POV)

Charles growled inwardly – but made absolutely sure that the white she-pup behind him didn't notice. He'd stopped to look at her, trying to figure out what to do with her and her sub once these two rogues were taken care of, but she'd clearly ordered him back to tracking. And he'd obeyed.

Playing along and humoring pups in order to keep harmony in the pack must be dome sometimes, Brother Wolf rumbled. Charles agreed. But he knew neither he nor his wolf-brother was humoring this pup. She had real dominance – so much of it that he'd bared his throat to her. And that made him uncomfortable.

The sub growled. Charles twisted around to see what it was about and saw a lithe black shape slinking through the trees. How had that rogue gotten so close without Charles smelling him? The white she-wolf that was the dog trainer – which was another thing that puzzled him, a dog trainer so far from her dogs – kept trotting, flicking the sub with her tail and glancing at Charles in a clear order to keep moving. What was she thinking? Couldn't she smell the rogue?

`I do not like this, Brother Wolf growled. But the dog trainer in her new white fur coat was glaring at them, so they kept moving. The black rogue suddenly charged, and the white she-wolf leaped impossibly far to intercept him and send him sprawling. Charles caught the scent of fox, and realized that the black had disguised his scent with fox dung or blood – possibly both.

This was no new rogue who'd left his pack and lost control, Charles realized. This wolf was in control – or he wanted to be. And that made him more dangerous, but nothing Charles couldn't handle.

(Alyssa's POV)

I bowled the black wolf over and let him go when he rolled to get away from me. I didn't care where he went, as long as he left Blake – and the redwolf – alone. We were hunting him, true, but I wanted him and his skinny brown crony. And the brown would bolt if the black died.

Blackie tried to get past me, intent on attacking Charles for some reason. I wasn't about to allow that, so I used my shoulder to slam him away. I braced myself for his next charge, ruff bristling and ears back.

Mine. I was more dominant than the redwolf. Therefore he was mine to protect. It was my right, and I was claiming that right. The black wolf was below me as well, but he had threatened me and my wolves – my Blake and my redwolf – hurt me and hurt Blake – and he would not live long enough to learn from his mistake. I snarled, this newfound knowledge and need to protect fueling my need to punish this wolf for what he had done to me and mine. I was debating whether to rip his throat out, gut him, or snap his neck when two more wolves approached.

One was a black she-wolf with ice-blue eyes. She was small for a werewolf, and slender rather than the bulky build that redwolf and the two I was hunting shared. And thinking of the ones I was hunting…the brown wolf trotted just behind the black she-wolf.

I fought to keep my attention on Blackie One, who was the main threat – I could feel it – but Blackie Two – the female – called for my protection even more than redwolf and Blake combined. And Brownie called for killing. Then Charles, my redwolf, started to step forward to greet Blackie Two.

I snapped my head around to glare at him. I growled to get his attention, and flicked an ear to let him know he was to stay put, where I knew where he was so I could do my job and protect him. Blackie Two narrowed her eyes at me and her lip curled in the beginnings of a snarl. Taking advantage of the distraction I'd tried so hard to avoid, Brownie and Blackie charged. Brownie tackled Blackie Two, and Blackie One charged the redwolf, who he obviously considered a bigger threat than me.

Redwolf is ours, my wolf snarled. I leaped forward and shouldered Blackie One off course, then shoved him with my shoulder hard enough that he fell. I seized his neck in my lovely new crushing jaws and jerked my head violently, snapping his neck. I let him drop and then faced Brownie, who had Blackie Two pinned.

As much as my Blake called for my protection, Blackie Two suddenly called to me even more. My wolf surged against my control, indignant that Brownie would dare harm this she-wolf. I turned my head and met the redwolf's gaze. And I understood. He was mine to protect, though he didn't consider himself as such, and she was his to protect. But he knew I was more dominant than him. He lowered his head in a barely visible show of surrendering the situation to me.

Our wolves understood each other in that moment. I began stalking toward Brownie, head low and threatening. Brownie tensed and lowered his own muzzle in a much greater threat. His fangs brushed the soft fur on Blackie Two's neck. The message was clear: if I came closer than he liked, he would kill Two in a heartbeat. His amber eyes met my cold blue ones, challenging me to charge and give him an excuse to kill Two.

I stopped where I was and drew myself up. It was like catching an untrained dog who didn't want to be caught. I would distract them – sometimes with food, sometimes with my presence, like I was doing now – and someone else – usually a junior trainer who didn't have the experience to play distracter – would grab the wayward mutt from behind. I never took my eyes off Brownie, never let him direct his attention elsewhere.

That's why he never saw Charles coming. The enormous redwolf's jaws clamped down on the back of Brownie's neck, crunched, and flung his limp form several yards away before the other wolf knew what hit him. But then, I doubt Brownie cared what hit him by that point.

The black she-wolf got to her paws and shook out her fur calmly, like she hadn't just been attacked by a raging brown werewolf. Her clear blue eyes rested on me, and suddenly they were icy rage. And I understood. She might belong to my redwolf, but he also belonged to her, and she didn't like that I'd stopped him from greeting her, then made him save her my way. I tilted my head, curious about this wolf who could more than likely take care of herself if she and redwolf belonged to each other, yet practically screamed for protection.

Blake whimpered. I turned my back on the black she-wolf and trotted to his side. He was shaking. I nuzzled his shoulder reassuringly, and he quieted. I looked back at the redwolf – Charles. He met my searching gaze for a few heartbeats, then looked away. I huffed. We needed to talk, and I didn't want to Change back and go through all that pain to have that talk while naked.

So I turned and trotted back toward where I'd first met the redwolf – which also happened to be where I'd left my clothes when I'd Changed so we could track the brown and black wolves.

Well, there's chapter 4. Hope everyone likes it. Please r&r! Flames will be used to burn any vampires I don't like.