On the Prowl

Kate Rudolph

On the Prowl © Kate Rudolph 2021.

Cover design by Kate Rudolph.

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied within critical reviews and articles.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Published by Kate Rudolph.

www.katerudolph.net

Created with Vellum

Contents

Guarded by the Shifter

About On the Prowl

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Epilogue

What’s to read next: Soulless

Also by Kate Rudolph

About Kate Rudolph

Guarded by the Shifter

Werewolves. Bodyguards. Mates.

The origins of these shifters are shrouded in mystery, but they're determined to protect their mates from any harm that comes their way.

Hunting Season

On the Prowl

Want a free book? You can get a free full length sci-fi romance novel by joining my newsletter.

Sign up now!

Ready to give audio a try? Get a free audiobook here!

About On the Prowl

Sparks fly when an ex-military werewolf show up to protect his rock star mate.

When a strange monster threatens Em's rock tour she needs help. But when her sister sends dark and mysterious Andre to protect her, Em is sure she'd be better off on her own.

He's too attractive for his own good, but just because her body wants him doesn't mean she'll let him have her heart.

As the ghostly monster escalates the attacks, Em can't keep going without Andre's help. But the beast may be too powerful even for a werewolf. How can Andre fight a monster that disappears out of thin air?

Finding a way to fight a monster made of magic? Easy.

Convincing a stubborn rock star that he's her fated mate? Andre will need to figure it out before malicious magic tears them apart.

1

Andre's fur was soaked through and his paws covered in mud. The scent of rain drenched the air, hiding the precious prey he knew bounded through the forest all around him. The pack sprinted through the muck like it was nothing. Rowe bumped into Jackson, covering her with even more mud. Hunter trailed after Vega.

And Stasia and Owen might as well have been running in their own little pack.

Gibson led them all, and Andre should have felt the pull of family. The rightness of their bond was what kept them all together after the mysterious way they'd all become wolves. But tonight, Andre didn't feel it.

He just felt cold and muddy and he wanted to curl up somewhere warm and sleep.

He must not have been alone. Gibson's farm property spread over acres of Pennsylvania wilderness and they could run for miles without risk of anyone seeing them. But the lights of the farmhouse were in sight through the dense trees, and first Hunter, and then Rowe and Jackson peeled off and headed for shelter.

Andre didn't follow immediately. He didn't want to look too eager, though it was something he'd never admit out loud. He was a goddamned werewolf.

Werewolves didn't cower from a bit of bad weather.

But he'd done his time in the Army and had experienced all the drudgery that went with that. He didn't care if he wore human skin or wolf fur, he just wanted to be clean and dry. Preferably in a comfortable bed.

Whatever sense it was that held him back finally released him, and he padded towards the house, mud squelching beneath his paws. Andre ran faster, letting his muscles bunch in ways no human body could ever contort.

Maybe the rain wasn't so bad.

The run was cut short when he made it to the covered patio behind the farm. He shook himself off as best he could, trying not to think about how he must have resembled his childhood dog, and stepped towards the sliding glass door.

Before he could step inside, Erin Jackson blocked his path, one human hand held in front of her, the other holding closed the robe she'd slipped on after shifting back to human. "The major will kill you if you get mud on his floors."

Andre huffed out a sound that was not a whine, but he backed away from the door and took a deep breath before letting the shift take him. The wolf melted away and he stood up as a man. Even better, most of the mud was gone.

He was naked, but Jackson didn't give him a second look. She only had eyes for one man, not that anyone in the pack would be stupid enough to say that out loud. Once inside the house, he grabbed his robe and pulled it on. He could still feel the mud between his toes, but it was a phantom sensation.

"Hunter's gone to get food," Jackson said, picking up her beer bottle and taking a swig before placing it back down on its coaster.

Andre's stomach rumbled at that. Good. He could eat. Sometimes they hunted prey as wolves and there was no need for pizza afterwards. Tonight was not one of those nights.

"Shower free?" he asked. The house was big, but old enough that it only had two bathrooms, one of which was attached to Gibson's bedroom. No one was brave enough to use that one without his permission. Which left six adults sharing a single bathroom. It was a good thing stays at the farm were usually short.

"I don't hear water running." Jackson settled into her seat and left him to discover for himself.

No one was in the bathroom, thankfully, but Andre didn't take his time under the hot stream. He'd been cursed with cold water enough times in his life that he didn't want to inflict it on other people.

Once all the imagined dirt was washed away, Andre headed upstairs, where he could already smell the tangy tomato sauce and cheese of the pizzas Hunter had picked up. It had become a tradition over the last few years. They ran in the woods and when they didn't catch their prey, they ended the night with stacks of pizza.

A feminine laugh burst up the stairs before abruptly being cut off by a moan. Sometimes Andre cursed the slightly heightened senses that came with wolfiness.

He didn't begrudge his friend his mate. Owen's discovery of Dr. Stasia Nichols had led to them discovering more about themselves and their wolfish state in a matter of weeks than they had in the entire two years prior to her coming into their lives. And Owen, who had always been gregarious, was truly happy in a way that Andre hadn't known a person could be.

But he was so damn chipper about it that sometimes Andre wanted to slug that contented look off his face.

It wasn't a fair thing to think about his best friend, and he'd never dare say it out loud. But he couldn't help thinking it.

"I'm thinking we don't need to save any pizza for them," Leland Rowe said with a grin, bumping his shoulder into Andre's.

"They can eat it cold." There was always more than enough food. Werewolves ate like ravenous beasts, but Hunter had a knack for always getting enough. Then he took another look at Rowe, who was wearing tight jeans and a decent shirt. "You going somewhere?"

Rowe grinned. "I'm checking out this new bar in town. You're welcome to join me. Lots of lonely ladies this far out in the country. And the alcohol is cheap."

Both were true, but Andre wanted a soft bed more than a soft pair of thighs at the moment. Rowe always seemed to be looking for a party when he wasn't on duty. "Have fun."

"Call if you're too drunk to drive," Jackson added. She'd come up from downstairs while Andre was in the shower and was now dishing up pizza for herself.

Rowe rolled his eyes. "Even with the cheap liquor out here I don't have enough cash to be wasted for long. Stupid werewolf magic," he scowled.

"Remind me you said that next time you heal a stab wound," Andre said. They could heal just about anything, as long as it wasn't silver. And luckily, silver weapons were few and far between.

Rowe made a dismissive sound, grabbed a slice of pizza, and headed out the front door.

Andre grabbed food of his own and sat at the counter beside Hunter and Jackson.

"Should we be worried about him?" Jackson asked. She looked at the door for a long minute before digging back in to her food.

Hunter didn't say anything. She was always quiet.

Andre shrugged. "He's a big boy. He can take care of himself."

"You didn't see how much puke he managed to spew on the floor of the truck." Jackson shuddered.

"You didn't clean it up, did you?" Jackson was a stickler for the rules, but even she couldn't go that far. Right?

"I don't clean." Her tone was icy, and Andre filed that information away. He didn't want to get on her bad side.

That was good, at least. Rowe could make his own messes, but he needed to clean them up as well.

Gibson and Vega came upstairs a few minutes later. Jackson handed Gibson a plate heaping with pizza, which he took with a smile.

"Where's my plate?" Vega asked, eyeing Jackson and Hunter hopefully.

Hunter grunted. "Make your own."

Vega's shoulders sagged, but he did as she said.

This was his family, Andre supposed. For better or worse. And on a night like this, he was inclined to think of them as better.

"Have you heard how Mercy's tour is going?" Jackson asked with deceptive casualness. Mercy was better known as Emerald Selby, Stasia's younger sister and one of the biggest rock stars on the planet.

Something jolted low in Andre's gut. No, not his gut. Even lower.

But his cock was not going to pay attention to that… woman. They'd clashed when they'd met a few weeks ago, and he didn't have any desire for a repeat.

No matter what his cock said.

"Stasia hasn't said anything," he replied gruffly. "Why, did you want tickets?" It came out sharper than necessary.

Jackson blushed and sank down a bit on her bench. "I'd buy tickets if I wanted them."

The major heard their interaction and glared at Andre. "Did something crawl up your ass?" Gibson demanded.

"No, major." But Andre scooped up his plate and headed for the bedroom he was sharing with Vega and Rowe.

He didn't want to talk about spoiled rock stars who made his dick hard. He had enough to deal with these days.

2

Em was the kind of tired that only happened when she went on tour. Bone deep exhaustion made all of her limbs heavy, and the strenuous workout that was every performance made her muscles ache. She was only a few weeks into this US tour and her body hadn't yet adjusted. Give it another week and she'd be fine.

She hoped.

But she couldn't help the nagging sensation that there was something off about this tour. Something didn't feel right.

Or maybe it was her. Em was hiding out in a closet hoping to snag five minutes of privacy before someone came searching for her so that they could shepherd her to her next task. Sound check, she was pretty sure.

At least she had five whole days in the city, even if three days were already gone. She wasn't actually sure what city it was. Little details like that fell by the wayside when she bounced from place to place on a daily basis.

Touring had seemed glamorous when she was a young star. It was a way to experience the kind of life she never imagined she could have.

No, that was a lie. She was a Selby. She could have any kind of life she wanted. Jet setting didn't need to come attached to a grueling schedule.

But this was the life she'd chosen.

Em groaned and leaned back against the wall. She was nestled in beside several shelves which were stacked high with cleaning products. If one of the reporters following the tour spotted her in here, they would probably think she was getting high and have the story up online in the hour. It wouldn't get far before her publicist had the counter narrative ready to go. That kind of life had never really been her MO.

But she didn't want the rumors. With the new album just out and not doing as well as expected, she couldn't afford bad press, no matter how good her publicist. Though her record label would probably say that any press was good press.

She had a hell of a story for them. How would they take it if she told them that her sister was a werewolf?

The thought startled a laugh out of her. Yeah, she wasn't going to be telling anybody about Stasia's new condition. That would definitely have people thinking she was on drugs.

If Em wasn't in her dressing room, she might have to face annoying questions. She was supposed to be in charge. That was what everybody thought when they thought of a rock star on tour. But Melinda and her army of very efficient assistants had way more say in what was going on than Em did.

She pressed her ear against the door and listened carefully for a moment. But the door was thick and she couldn't hear anything. Rather than wait any longer, Em slipped out of the closet and headed toward her dressing room.

She was thankful that they were staying in the hotel that was connected to the convention center where she was performing. It meant that fans were swarming the place, but at least she didn't need to leave the building for anything. It made her feel safer than normal.

Not that she ever really dealt with danger. She had screaming fans, a few obsessed ones, and there was a lot of fanfiction out there. But her security kept her safe, and she'd never felt like the fans were a danger to her.

She was lucky in that regard. She had heard horror stories of some of her friends who appealed to a slightly younger and more rabid audience. But Em had made the decision to be a rock star, not a pop star, and that came with a slightly different fan base.

At least that was what the record company said.

There were dozens of people milling around in the hallways doing their best to get the stage prepared for the concert. They'd had the luxury of letting the stage stay up between shows, which meant everyone was a bit more relaxed than usual. Stopovers like these were sort of like mini vacations. But Em would be expected to do meet and greets and other events when she wasn't busy performing.

She'd chosen this life, she reminded herself. She didn't get to complain.

At least, not out loud. But it was about time to give Stasia a call and let all of her complaints fall on her older sister's ears. Besides, she wanted to hear how werewolf life was going. If she thought being a rock star was special, Stasia had blown her out of the water.

Em slipped into her dressing room. It wouldn't be long before her makeup artists and costume people showed up to get her ready for the night. But Em had three more minutes to herself. She sank into her chair and looked at the table in front of the mirror. At first she didn't know what she was looking at.

It should have been covered with makeup and jewelry and all of the things that she would need to become her alter ego Mercy, the international rock sensation.

But the table was empty. Empty, and covered in deep gouges. Em reached out to touch, her fingers digging deep into the pulp of the wood. This wasn't some decoration. It looked like a wild animal had gotten in and attacked the table.

Werewolf.

The thought whispered in the back of her mind. It would have been crazy if she hadn't just met a pack of them a few weeks before. Her heart rate kicked up and she spun around, eyes darting madly trying to find the threat.

But she was alone in her dressing room.

Was this some kind of prank? Was somebody having fun at her expense? They couldn't know about Stasia. Not about Owen or Andre or Rowe or any of the rest of them. She hadn't said a word. Though maybe one of the assistants or one of the band members had caught her looking up the Wikipedia page to try and learn more about wolves.

No.

One of her costumes was on the ground, and Em bent to pick it up. Shredded. Some of her costumes had artfully gaping holes that let people see her skin or a mesh approximation of her skin tone, but this wasn't anything done by design. She set the top down on the desk, and the rip in the clothing matched the gouges in the desk.

Wicked claws. She could imagine them.

Her hands shook and there was a scream caught in her throat, but she couldn't articulate it. She was too aware of all of the people outside of the dressing room who would come running if she made a noise.

And she couldn't let this information end up in the tabloids.

With shaking hands, she reached for her cell phone and brought up Stasia's number, dialing and praying and hoping that her sister picked up. It took several rings before she did.

"Hey! Are you supposed to be on stage?" Stasia asked, a smile clear in her voice.

"I need your help." Em didn't waste time with small talk. "I think I have a werewolf problem."

3

"She's my sister, I have to go." Stasia paced back and forth in the living room of the farmhouse while the pack watched her move. She cast a helpless glance at her mate, begging for his agreement.

But Owen had an uncharacteristically grim expression on his face. "Stasia…" Whatever he needed to say, he couldn't get the words out.

"You aren’t stable enough," Andre said, saving him from delivering the blow himself. He liked Stasia. He really did. She was good for Owen. But she'd only been a werewolf for a bit more than a month, and she didn't quite have control of her shift. Given the likelihood of cameras swarming around Em, they couldn't risk Stasia giving them away. Not only that, Stasia would not want the spotlight on her.

But she was adamant. "I have control. I'm a doctor. If I don't have control, people get killed." Her eyes flashed gold as she made the statement, and her lips pulled back to reveal too sharp teeth.

Andre raised his eyebrows as if that answered that. A little bit of eye shine wouldn't give them away, but it was just the first step. What if her fangs dropped? Or her claws came out? What if she shifted all the way? He didn't say any of it out loud, and he didn't have to. Owen grabbed her hand and stopped her pacing.

"She's my sister. She needs help." Stasia sounded desperate.

"I could go," Bryan Vega piped up from where he sat on the couch in the corner of the room.

"No." The denial came from all of them.

"We don't need another accidental pack member," Leland Rowe said with a glare at the young wolf.

"That was one time. And I had been shot," Vega protested, his face a mask of indignation.

"That doesn't change the facts," said Gibson. The major surveyed them, his steely gaze taking all of them in and analyzing what would be best.

"My schedule is free," Rowe offered with a grin.

Andre tamped down the growl in the back of his throat. Rowe was a good bodyguard. Even if he was a party boy. He could do the job just fine. But Andre didn't want him around Em.

And why was that?

He had no claim on the woman. He didn't even like her. She was, at best, a distant acquaintance. He owed her nothing. And he should just be happy that Rowe wanted to go and be done with it.

He was anything but happy.

"I'll do it," Andre spoke before the thought fully entered his mind.

That quieted everyone. Gibson gave him an unreadable look. "That could work," he said cautiously.

"I offered," Rowe challenged with a bristle. He glared at Andre as if Andre had taken away a particularly juicy meal.

"I’m pulling rank." They didn't fall back on their military ranks all that often. Things had gotten so weird after they were drummed out of the military that clinging to old hierarchy didn't make any sense. They were all equals when it came to knowledge about werewolves. Except when it came to Gibson. He didn't necessarily know any more than they did, but he was their commanding officer now. It was hard to ignore a CO even years out of the service.

Of course, pulling rank wouldn't be enough to get Gibson to agree. "I'm not a super fan," Andre said to make his case. "I'm not sure I’ve ever heard one of Em's songs. I'm not going to get starstruck. I can keep my head on the case." Though the fact that he was campaigning so hard for the job might have said otherwise.

"Can you?" Rowe glared, and Andre had the faint worry they'd end up coming to blows. Why did Rowe want this so bad? "And just because we talked about music doesn't mean that I'm a super fan. Who the hell talks like that?"

Andre knew he was fighting too hard. He didn't normally get excited about things, and he certainly didn't let his desires show. But now that he had offered, he wanted to be the one to go out there and protect Em. There was some kind of supernatural threat and he needed to uncover it and get it away from her. She had already been dragged halfway into this life when her sister was turned into a werewolf right in front of her. They owed it to her to keep her safe.

It didn't matter that she annoyed the shit out of Andre. It didn't matter that they had clashed the one time they'd met.

It didn't matter that he had been three seconds away from kissing her.

He pushed that thought away. It was irrelevant.

He had a job to do.

"What did she tell you?" he turned and asked Stasia. The call between the sisters hadn't been long. And Em had been lucky. Only Jackson and Hunter had left to head back to the city. He, Gibson, Stasia, Owen, Rowe, and Vega were all still at the farm and ready to discuss the job. They could act quickly.

Some of Stasia's nervous energy melted away as she spoke. "She found something that looked like a werewolf tore it up. She sounded freaked. But then she had to go do sound check. There's a concert tonight."

Andre almost scoffed, but held it back. It sounded like someone had played a little prank and Em was freaked out. "Doesn't she have security of her own?"

She nodded. "Yes. I've met them. They're a good team. But they don't know anything about us." Stasia gave a look around the room. "And it's not like Em will want to reveal the secret. I don't know if it's anything. But she doesn't get hysterical. She's about as level-headed a person as I've ever met."

"Is there such a thing as a level-headed rock star?" Rowe smirked.

Andre wanted to shove him for insulting Em, even though part of him agreed with that statement. It took a special brand of crazy to crave fame.

"That's my sister you're talking about." Stasia glared.

Owen growled. He didn't need to say anything. And the growling was new, ever since he had mated with Stasia. If that was what came from finding a mate, then Andre hoped he never did.

He was a human who’d happened to turn into a wolf. He didn't need to bring those traits into his human form.

"Sounds simple enough," Andre said, as if it was already decided. "I'll show up, take a look around, and determine whether or not it looks like a prank. And if she has some sort of supernatural foe, then I'll deal with it."

"Do we think other wolves exist?" Vega asked.

"I don't know, but I'm about to find out."

Two years ago, he and his pack had been kidnapped by some sort of evil sorcerer in the woods all while they were stationed in Germany. One ritual later and they were turning into wolves. But Stasia was the first evidence they had that they could make other wolves, and they had no idea if other packs existed.

Magic had to exist; Andre had witnessed it with his own eyes, even if he didn't know how common it was or if witches and warlocks were still a thing of legend. But were there other wolves? Or were they an anomaly?

It was time for him to go find Em and find out.

4

Em had freaked out over nothing. She was sure of it now. She’d gone to sound check and everything had gone off without a hitch. Then she had given one of the best performances of her entire tour.

No werewolves rushed her on the stage. Not even anyone in a werewolf costume. It had been a stupid prank. Probably one of the crew pulled it off. And they had no idea that it had affected her so deeply. How could they? It wasn't like she had told anyone about her sister.

She regretted calling Stasia. She was the stereotypical older sister, at least when it came to Em. And she would want to fix everything. She was going to show up at the hotel, take a look around, and try and run Em's life.

It would be torture. So Em was going to need to head her off at the pass. There was no calling her off at this point, not when she'd been so worried on the call. She was bound to show up soon enough, and Em wanted her gone as soon as possible.

Did that sound that cold-blooded? Probably.

But the tour was her world. And she needed to protect it. Stasia wouldn't understand everything about tour life. Sure, she could control an emergency department in a hospital like no one's business, but this was a different kind of chaos. And Em usually thrived in it.

She'd just finished up her morning rehearsal and had an hour free in her schedule before she had to do a quick media appearance. She scampered back to her dressing room in defiance of the prank from the night before. She was surprised to see a crew member already in the room. The young woman had purple streaks in her hair and wore torn jeans and a T-shirt from a band that had been Em's opening act three tours ago.

The young woman startled when Em walked in. "I'm sorry. Melinda sent me in here to do some organizing. I'm Vi." She offered a faint wave, as if she was scared Em was about to have a diva moment and scream at her until she left.

Melinda Ramsey was the woman in charge of this tour. She kept things running so that Em could give the great performances she needed to. And Melinda had a fleet of crew like Vi who jumped whenever she gave the command.