I M P O R T A N T

Hello, darlings, and welcome to Killer Instinct!

If you're a new reader, please bear in mind that Killer Instinct is Book #2 of the Instinct Trilogy. Animal Instinct is the first book and this is the spin-off. It is not necessary to read Book #1 to understand what happens in this. If you're an old reader, welcome back and thank you for not giving up on this book.

This is the Wattpad version. I'm currently working on the complete Ebook version, which will hopefully be out sometime in September. As was the case with Animal Instinct (and unlike Slow Dancing), the Wattpad version will end on a proper note, but every scene that has no relevance to the plot have been removed. So, for instance, Dimitri stays in wolf form until C5 (on Wattpad) and until C9 (in Ebook). There will be 20-25 chapters on Wattpad and around 40-42 on Ebook, but trust me when I say that both versions will have the same ending (plus-minus an epilogue). Perhaps this might not sit well with some of you and it's fine if you choose not to read this. But please understand that ALL of my books are no longer in full on Wattpad due to many counts of plagiarism. Regardless of whether there is an Ebook, Killer Instinct would not have been in full either way.

On another note, I promise that you're in for a ride with plenty of twists, naked Dimitri moments and character death(s) (oh yes, I went there). Thank you for reading Killer Instinct and enjoy!

x Noelle

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0 1

l i m b o

MONSTERS, PEOPLE SAID, were only the ones you had in your head.

But Brooke knew better.

It was quiet out here, too quiet, as Brooke already knew. Sometimes, if she strained her ears and listened, she swore she could almost hear the distant howl of wolves somewhere. The thought of that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine and she firmly put a clamp down on her wild imagination, leaning back against a nearby lamppost and scuffing the tip of her boot against the sandy path.

"Hurry up, Argos," she murmured, glancing down at the dog standing barely five feet away from her, sniffing at the nearest tree. "We're burning daylight here."

Argos looked at her. Then he looked at the tree. And hesitated.

"Fine." She sighed and stepped aside so that she was no longer in his line of vision, pretending to study the gravelly road ahead. "I won't look."

For a minute or so, she waited patiently for Argos to finish – well, peeing. He was well trained enough to drop Number Twos by the dumpster where she could easily pick it up with a disposable bag and get rid of it right after. But this was different. No matter how much she tried to stop him, this was something he always did – a weird ritual where he had to pee at the same spot, by the same tree, at this same time.

Almost as though he were marking his territory every evening.

She jumped when something brushed up against her leg. It was just her dog and she relaxed at the sight of him. His tail wagged in a way that seemed like he was ridiculously satisfied with himself.

For peeing.

"Do you want a medal for that?" Brooke smiled and leaned down to plant a kiss on his head, before straightening and stuffing her cold hands into the pockets of her coat. "Come on. Let's get back before the sun sets."

She spun on her heels and retraced the path back to her cabin. Argos loped ahead, sniffing trees and casting backward glances at her every so often. The route back wasn't too far if she cut through the woods, but she stuck to the main path. She stepped towards the road, just as a shrill ringing ruptured the silence.

She startled at the sound and Argos gave a sharp bark. She quickly fished her phone out and swiped a finger across to answer the call.

"Dad?"

"Lynnie?" There was a faint buzzing in the background and his voice was distorted. "Hey, kiddo. Do you remember how I always wanted to buy you a dog when you were little?"

She blinked. Her dad did have a knack of saying the most arbitrary things that left her utterly confused. "Well, yes, I guess – "

"Your mother wouldn't let me. Said the – yes, Weber, I told you to go ahead!" He suddenly shouted, and she winced from the sheer decibel of his voice. Weber was one of her father's friends who usually went fishing with him, and the mental image of her red-faced father yelling at his friend from across the pier made her smile. " – anyway," he continued, his tone more amiable this time, "your mother used to say that the house was too small, and she was allergic to fur, and then – I said go on without me, I can carry those damn boxes on my own! – "

"Dad – "

" – and I was telling your mother when she was still alive, I'd say, 'Linda, she's old enough to take care of herself, she can damn well take care of an animal'. But your mother would say, 'Brian, she can't even tie her shoelaces, what makes you think she can take care of a – '"

"Dad!" She cut him off before he could ramble on any further. "Will you please tell me what's going on?"

"I already told you. I've found a dog for you, Lynnie."

She blinked again and glanced at Argos, who was sniffing around another tree. "I already have a dog. His name is Argos, remember?"

"No – not that one. Another dog."

"Another?"

"Yes, down by the pier. He's a little bigger than most, but you've got to come over here and take a look, he's bleeding pretty badly – "

A bleeding dog down by the docks. That was sounding far less interesting and more worrisome by the second. "Is he rabid?"

"Rabbit? I don't think he was hunting – "

"No, rabid. It's an infection. You have to get away from him if you see any signs of seizures or aggression. In fact, you know what, Dad? Just stay away from him altogether. We'll call animal services or something."

"Who said anything about calling animal services? Didn't you take that nursery – "

"Nursing."

" – nursing course back when you were in college? That could come in handy right now and I don't think it's dangerous because the dog's out cold – "

His voice grew distant and she suddenly wondered if he was checking the dog for rabies. The only thing worse than being near a dog with rabies was actually touching a dog with rabies. Alarm swept through her and she pressed the phone closer to her ear. "Dad?"

" – yes," he declared, after a moment's pause. He definitely touched the damn dog. "He's out cold. And I'm telling you, Lynnie," he continued, still oblivious to her anxiety, "if you don't take a look at it, this dog will be dead by noon."

And there it was again – her father appealing to her better nature. She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a sigh. Logic had already fled her mind. Without a doubt, she knew that she was going to check on the dog and save it, if that were possible. This was another one of her father's save-the-downtrodden schemes that he'd roped her into, and she didn't have it in her to refuse.

Besides, she reasoned to herself, it's just a dog this time.

How much trouble could a dog possibly bring?

"Alright," she said at last, dragging a resigned hand through her windswept hair. "Just stay where you are, don't touch the dog again and I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

He readily agreed. After ending the call, she stuffed her phone back into her pocket and glanced over at her dog.

"Come on, Argos."

By the time she reached the pier, she noticed that most of the boats were already docked, with one or two still lingering in the far distance. They sat on the calm waters in perfect synchronicity with the landscape as the sun set over the horizon, a perfect blend of blues and yellows and reds blending across the skyline and casting fragmented tints along the water's reflection.

She stood there for a moment, swept up in nostalgia. Her memories of her mother were faint and few, but she remembered this one vividly. Her mum would bring her to watch the sunrise every morning as they watched her dad sail out to sea.

It's the most beautiful but heartbreaking thing in the world, her mother used to say to her. Every sunset is different; every moment of a sunset is different. You miss a day, you blink your eyes, and it's gone for good.

The sound of someone shouting her name immediately snapped Brooke out of the past and back to the present. She glanced to the right, only to see her father waving madly at her as he stood by the water's edge, near a concrete slope that led down to the water. Brooke shook her head and smiled as she headed towards him. Honestly, by the way he was beaming at her, you'd think he had just won the lottery.

It was a shame that the only prize they were going to get was a severely injured dog that might not live to see tomorrow.

But as she came up, she noticed that Argos was becoming agitated. He growled at the unconscious creature by the water's edge. She shot a cursory look at the other dog before turning to her father.

"What did you do with your jacket, Dad?" she asked patiently, when she saw that he was missing a jacket. She could easily guess – he'd probably draped it over the dog in spite of the fact that it was freezing out and he'd only just recovered from the flu.

"The dog was cold," he reasoned, in that innocent way he usually did whenever she narrowed her eyes reprovingly at him. Stepping aside to let her get a better glimpse of the dog, he waved in its direction like he was presenting her with a prize. "Told you – he's pretty roughened up."

One quick glance at the other dog and she knew that she was going to have her work cut out for her. The dog wasn't moving at all, but the fur was matted with blood. The back was the worst, like he'd had been dredged through some sharp surface that left his flesh and some parts of the spine entirely mangled in the process. One leg was bent at an awkward angle, clearly broken, and there was just so much blood on the grey fur that –

No, wait.

She froze. Alarm coursed through her veins and she reached for her father to pull him away. The situation had taken a turn for the dangerous and she now understood why Argos had been growling.

"Dad," she breathed at last, her voice barely audible, "this isn't a dog. It's a wolf."

Her eyes traced the expanse of grey fur across the large body, the pointed ears and the curved muzzle. The mouth was parted a fraction to reveal very, very sharp teeth.

Definitely a wolf.

Unfazed, her father stared down at the motionless animal and scratched the back of his neck. "Is it?" he finally asked, sounding almost thoughtful. "I suppose it could be a wolf. We're rather near the woods as it is."

Oh, right. In her panic, she'd forgotten that he didn't fear creatures like these. He had a strange fascination with sharks and barracudas and all kinds of deadly fishes. Of course a wolf wasn't going to scare him.

"It's a wolf, alright," she said, keeping one hand firm around his arm when he tried to take another step forward. "These animals are incredibly aggressive. I don't think it's a good idea to even be near it."

The look he gave her was so reproachful it made her feel like she was a five-year old kid who'd stolen a cookie out of the jar. "You have to save it," he insisted. "I found this poor animal near my boat, so he's our responsibility now. It's a long drive to the city, Lynnie, and I'm not even sure where the vet's clinic is."

Brooke hesitated. Her self-preservation instincts were screaming at her to grab her father, grab Argos and run the hell away, never once looking back. But there was that irrepressible urge that lingered at the back of her mind – to fix things, heal things, and just make things better – and she couldn't quite shut it down.

The vet would put the wolf down anyway, she thought. Or animal services would throw him back into the wild, where he'd be torn limb from limb by another animal.

She let out a sigh of resignation and looked up at her father. "Do you think we could load him onto your truck?"

"Of course! I'll get a cart. It'll be easier that way."

Amused, she watched him leave and then leaned down to pat Argos. H"It'll be okay," she said softly, although she wasn't sure whether her words were meant to assure Argos or herself.

Her father soon returned with a large cart. It was one of those regular ones used to load boxes of fresh fish from the docks to the trucks. Together, they carried the wolf up onto the cart. She felt the shift of fur beneath her fingertips and took care to avoid aggravating the wolf's broken leg.

"You, me and Argos – we're the three little pigs from that tale," she told him. "And this is the big bad wolf who's going to huff and puff and blow our house down. And I'm going to say I told you so when this wolf wakes and takes a bite out of any one of us."

"Oh, he couldn't possibly do that when he's this injured. Wolves aren't usually aggressive unless they feel threatened. And if he's going to take a bite out of any of us, maybe he's a werewolf."

The teasing grin playing on his lips gave away the fact that he was just teasing, and Brooke shot him an unamused look. "Really?" she said flatly, keeping one hand on the cart as she helped him push it back up the pier, with a still-growling Argos trailing behind them and sniffing the air suspiciously. "It isn't enough that you believe in Nessie and the Yeti, you believe in werewolves too?"

"Why not? You used to believe in the Tooth Fairy and Santa."

"Only up until I was seven. And you ruined that because you forgot to leave a present for me under my pillow."

"Yes, quite an unfortunate mistake. Your mother was usually the one who picked out the presents." A soft smile curved his lips and his eyes crinkled at the corners. It was an expression of nostalgia that she recognized right away. Brooke wrapped her fingers around the crook of his elbow and he patted her hand. "Do you know what your mother would've said if she'd seen this wolf?"

"Oh, yes," Brooke good-naturedly played along. "Brian," she mimicked, calling him by his name on purpose, "go stand in the shade because you've clearly lost your mind being in the sun for too long and now you're letting our daughter near an actual wolf."

Her father let out a hearty guffaw and she smiled. The sound of his laughter had always been music to her ears. It always made her feel like she'd done something right.

Even if that something right meant fixing up a dangerous wolf.

They set the wolf down in the back of the truck. It was fortunate that no one was here at the docks at this time, because she didn't fancy having to explain her way out of this one. The Wharf was too close to the woods for the residents to feel at ease. Even though there hadn't been a run-in with any wild animals in years, that didn't mean the residents wouldn't try to shoot one if they caught sight of it wandering around town.

She shoved her anxieties aside for a moment and grabbed Argos. Her father was already in the driver's seat as he twisted the key in the ignition. She climbed into the passenger's seat and felt the low rumble of the truck as the engine started.

"By the way," her father said, resuming the conversation once they pulled out of the driveway. "That's not what your mother would say. She'd just give me that look you're giving me right now and then tell me that I'm too damned stubborn for my own good."

"You are too damned stubborn for your own good."

"You have to be stubborn sometimes – "

" – if you know that's the right thing to do," she swiftly finished and shook her head at him. He'd said this so many times before that she could practically repeat it in her sleep by now. Shifting in her seat, she tilted her head curiously at him and asked, "and how do you know if saving this wolf is the right thing?"

"Isn't it?" His eyebrows knitted in confusion. "If you find a dying man on your doorstep, what do you do?"

"Save him."

"So if you see a dying wolf on your doorstep, what do you do?"

Oh, he was good. She'd figured out the parallels he was drawing soon enough, but that didn't mean she was going to concede that easily. Gazing up at him, she blinked and offered him an innocent smile. "Shoot it?"

"Save it."

Well, she couldn't argue with that logic. Her father was just as kind as he was stubborn, and she didn't have it in her to oppose his brand of kindness. She leaned back in resignation and wrapped her arms around Argos. Throughout the ride, she kept her gaze fixed on the rearview mirror for any wayward movement from the wolf.

There wasn't any.

He was still out cold. And he remained unconscious even after they arrived at her cabin. Leaving her father to kill the engine, Brooke rushed inside to gather whatever medical supplies she had lying around. Really, she had no idea how to heal an injured animal. Her experience was limited only to people. But her nursing training was kicking in and that determination to save was returning in full force.

Her father soon came in, wheeling the cart into the living room. Argos curled up in front of the fire but Brooke noticed that her dog kept his gaze fixed on the wolf. She helped her dad set the wolf down on the floor. Her eyes scanned the wolf, a blend of dark crimson on grey fur, and she faltered.

It'll be fine, she told herself, pushing aside her fears with determination. You can do this.

"Alright." She finally came to a halt by the wolf's side and knelt down next to it. The wolf's chest was rising and falling with incredibly shallow breaths and she handed a ball of gauze to her father. "Dad, I need you to tie this around his mouth as a makeshift muzzle. We need some precaution in case it wakes and tries to bite our hands off."

Together, they worked in silence. Her hands shook with nerves. But the moment she felt the warm gush of blood from an open wound, her instincts kicked in. Stem the blood flow. Clean the wound. Suture after suture. Her father stayed by her side and handed her supplies whenever she needed them. After awhile, he began whistling some tune that she recalled him singing to her when she was a young girl. She smiled, grateful for the distraction. It reminded her of all those months she'd spent working at the hospital and saving plenty of lives.

Now, she wasn't even sure that the wolf was going to live past the hour.

It was almost noon by the time she was done. Despite the fact that she'd patched up most of the wolf's visible injuries, she still worried about his mangled back and whatever internal injuries she couldn't detect. She ran a gentle hand through the wolf's matted fur and felt her fingers tangle within the knots. Her breath caught and she extricated her hand with care.

There had to be one hell of a tragedy the wolf had to endure to come out looking like this.

"So, I was thinking – " Her father's voice broke her out of her thoughts. She shot him a wary look. It was never a good idea when he began a sentence with those words. " – maybe we can bring the wolf to my place for the time being until he gets better."

To Brooke's never-ending horror, it actually looked like he was actually considering what was potentially the worst solution ever. He lived just above a diner that he owned called the Lighthouse, where it operated both day and night shifts, and had possibly ninety-percent of the little town as its patrons on a daily basis.

You let a wolf live one floor above the diner and it was pretty much a recipe for disaster.

Brooke mulled over her remaining options. The first was obvious enough. She could just leave the wolf in the woods nearby and cross her fingers that he would survive. Or, she thought, you can let the wolf stay until he's well enough to release back into the wild.

"And fingers crossed that he won't eat me in my sleep," she muttered under her breath.

Her father frowned in confusion. "What's that?"

Shebit her lip and reconsidered. The idea terrified her. But having the wolf roam her cabin was better than having him roam the diner anyway. Take one for the team and everything    

"Nothing," she assured him. "I'm just thinking that if I let the wolf stay in my cabin, I'll need one of those spare guns you use for hunting. Just in case."

His frown deepened. "Lynnie." His tone was grave and the good-natured crinkle at the corners of his eyes had vanished. "I'm not leaving you alone with a wild animal."

"And I'm not leaving you alone with a wild animal either." She folded her arms across her chest and met his gaze squarely. When push came to shove, she could be just as stubborn as him. He could blame that on his own genes. "Besides, I have Argos. He's a feisty little thing. If anything, it's the wolf that I'm worried about."

Her father was silent for a lengthy minute, staring first at the wolf, then at Argos who was sniffing his own tail and kind of stepped on the point that she'd had been making. After what seemed like forever, he finally sighed. "Fine, but you have me and the sheriff on speed-dial, right?" She nodded and he tightened the makeshift muzzle around the wolf's mouth before climbing to his feet. "I'll get my gun. Would take me awhile to find those silver bullets, so you keep an eye out on that wolf, alright, Lynnie?"

She blinked. "Silver? Why silver?"

All she heard was the fading sound of her father's amused chuckle as he left the house.