G
race couldn’t hear his pursuit and thought she should head downhill towards water. Did water kill the scent? That’s what she’d read about werewolves, what she’d studied. But who knew for sure? No one had ever done a field study. It was all speculation. The day was still, small breezes behind her, fueling her flight. If she could just find water. She bolted through the trees and almost ran off a cliff but managed to skid to a stop at the edge. Water below, about 20 feet down. If it was deep enough, she could jump and swim across. But only if it was deep enough. Did she dare?
Her ears strained to hear Hawes behind her, but there was nothing but birdcalls in the air. Maybe he wouldn’t think her so brave – or so stupid – maybe he was circling around to cut her off. Maybe she knocked him out, or even killed him. A slice of despair clawed through her, not sure why the thought of him dead ripped at her heart, or perhaps it was more the thought of her dead. Gathering her courage, she leapt off the cliff and plummeted feet first into the water. Down, down, down, 15 or more feet. It was bottomless, the water murky and freezing. What did she expect up north – palms trees and blue lagoons?
She clawed her way to the surface, afraid again. Afraid of the water, which was stupid. It was saving her. She started swimming, thanking her father for the all the childhood swimming lessons he insisted she take, her heart knotting again at how much she missed him. Dead now, three years. Like she would be soon if she didn’t get to the other side.
She was a sitting duck in the water, easy to spot if Hawes made it to the cliff edge. One stroke in front of the other, the river, water, lake, lagoon – she didn’t know what the fuck it was. But the shoreline seemed closer when she had been on the ledge looking down. The icy temperature of the water and her fear of Hawes soaked into her – she was getting disoriented. She stopped and bobbed, looking around, spying the cliff’s edge, then turning her back to it. Seeing the trees on the opposite shoreline, not far, 100 metres. She could do that in her sleep, except she was terrified, panicky and exhausted. She took a dozen more strokes before a pain in her side bloomed, then slid down her right leg, to her foot. She was cramping. She stopped her strokes, took deep shuddering breaths, tried to work the cramp out, but the cold was winning. If she didn’t get to the shore soon, she’d die of hypothermia. She gathered her strength, her resolve and started forward, breaststroke, slower but easier on her leaden arms. She was almost to the shore when the bottom reared up fast and she thudded into it. Her stomach and thighs bruising against the jagged rock. She didn’t let this slow her down as she staggered to her feet and wobbled out of the water. The fur was gone, she was naked, wet, hypothermic.
She launched herself into the forest, her shivers increasing. She needed shelter, but it couldn’t be just any shelter. It had to be both warm and safe. She ran blindly for a minute then stopped, looked up into the sky, the sun to her left. She kept it there as she moved forward, but it didn’t help. The trees were endless, there was no where to go, no path to follow. She was drying, still freezing but maybe not hypothermic anymore. The shivering didn’t stop, neither did the goosebumps, the hardness of her nipples. Then she tripped over deadfall, falling hard, scraping her hands and knees, twisting her ankle.
She tried to get to her feet and faltered, fell back down. She wanted to scream, wail, slam her fist into a tree, but she swallowed her frustration down. Falling apart wouldn’t save her, neither would laying in the dirt feeling pitiful and broken. As she got to her knees, her ears caught the faint sound of leaves crunching to her left, forcing her panic. She launched to her feet, her ankle protesting, her heart hammering in her chest. Then she stopped, swallowed her fear. She needed to think, be smart. She was a prey animal, cornered by a predator. She needed to think like one – but what did they do? They stayed in herds, they ran away, they died when they were injured. She sobbed.
Then she saw them, two men, both barrel-chested, bearded, tall – brothers or maybe even twins. They’d been talking to each other, one animated, the other listening and nodding, arms crossed over his chest. As soon as she was in their line of sight, their conversation ceased, heads swivelled. She stopped dead, kept her distance, watched them warily. When one of the men stepped forward, she stepped back. He grinned and said, his voice a baritone, “This is a first. A naked she-wolf in the forest. Are you alone, pretty baby?”
Grace took another step backward, and both men laughed. The one who had spoken to her, the one who was doing all the talking said, “You should stop running. It will only get us excited if we have to chase you. Then we can’t be accountable for our actions.”
Grace stopped. He was right about the running. “I need help.” That was an understatement. She had a twisted ankle, was broken and bruised, pursued by a mad wolf, and at risk of freezing to death.
The other man, the one who had not yet spoken, took off his jacket. It was red, plaid and lined and felt like heaven as he helped Grace pull it on. Her fingers were too stiff from cold to work and so he patiently buttoned the front. He looked down at her, his eyes stroking her with wonder. It was strangely worshipful. “I’m Edon,” he said respectfully. “This is my brother, Macon.”
Her eyes flicked to the other man, Macon, who was watching her with interest, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Who are you running from, fair maiden?”
Grace filtered through the possible answers. She couldn’t tell them she was running from Hawes because it didn’t make sense that they were out here in the forest, two men, looking like lumberjacks, at home in this isolated piece of the world. Nothing made sense. There shouldn’t be murderous, crazed bikers this far north. There shouldn’t be a crazy werewolf claiming her as his mate, claiming she was part-wolf. There shouldn’t be these men in this forest. But they weren’t men, she realized, they were wolves. Were they loyal to Hawes or his enemies? She swallowed. “I need help please. I need to get to a phone.”
“You’re not wearing shoes,” Macon observed. “Why don’t you switch to your wolf?”
“I am not a wolf.” She regretted the words as they slipped from her lips. Both men narrowed their eyes and flared their nostrils. She could almost see their wolf-forms, their ears flattening, the hair on the back of their necks standing up.
“You’re deceitful. Who do you belong to?” Macon again, his words hard, edgy. His eyes were darting around, behind her, beside her, looking for what?
He got his answer as Hawes strolled through the trees towards them like he had been out for a picnic in the countryside. “She belongs to me.” He was still bare-chested, his broadness blocking the sun. His grey eyes seared her with his fury.
Both men turned. “Hawes,” Edon crossed his arms to his chest. “Your mate?”
“Yes.” He walked by the men, clutching Grace’s bicep and dragging her in the direction he came. She stumbled after him, she had no choice. His grip was iron, she wouldn’t be able to wrench herself from it even if she had the strength to try.
“She’s hurt, Hawes. She can’t walk.” Edon again.
Hawes turned towards the man and snarled, literally, hackles up, nose wrinkling, eyes narrowed, snarling. Edon stepped back and lowered his eyes. Grace watched in horrified wonder. Hawes was the Alpha of these men. They were his pack. She thought of Eric, thought how thrilled he would have been to witness such a scene, felt the wetness in her eyes. Dammit, not now, but the tears came anyway.
He dropped her arm and took a menacing step towards Edon. “Have you touched her?” Hawes was taller than Edon, mightier, broader, standing in Edon’s space, snarling over him.
Edon kept his eyes lowered. “I offered her my jacket and helped her into it. That’s all. That’s what you smell, Hawes. She was wet, freezing, she needed warmth.”
“I should kill you,” he growled. Grace looked to Macon, but he stood to the side, watching as the scene unfolded, not glancing her way, no intent to intervene. As Hawes raised his fist to Edon, Grace pushed herself between the men.
“What’s wrong with you?” she implored him. “He was trying to help me.”
He flicked the back of his hand toward her, a careless gesture that made contact with her face, the force flinging her from him, pitching her to the ground like she was ash off a cigarette. He didn’t look at her, but his words were addressed to her. “Take his fucking coat off, Grace. Do it fast and I might let him live.”
Grace scrambled to her feet, her cheek burning, her eyes tearing, her fingers fumbling at the buttons on the jacket. She tore it from her, dropped it to the ground and then turned from the scene, plunging into the trees again. If nothing else, it would distract Hawes from murdering a man who simply tried to help her. She gained barely 10 feet before he was on her, snagging her up in his large hands, carrying her under one arm to the water’s edge, then in, not caring that the water was soaking him through. Once deep enough, he tossed her into the water, watching as she went under. When she emerged, splashing and sputtering, he pulled her too him, sniffing her.
“You still stink like him.” And he threw her again.
This time when she came up, she was yelling, “You sonofabitch! You animal! You’re no better than the assholes trying to rape me last night!”
He grabbed her by the hair, pulling her towards him, shoving her body against his chest. She was shivering and cold again, thought she might die if he didn’t pull her from the water soon. “I never said I was better.” He sniffed her again, threw her back in the water and held her head under as seconds ticked by. She struggled, her hands around his wrist, trying to get his grip to loosen, kicking her legs. She couldn’t breathe, she needed air. Then he brought her up, gasping and sputtering, flailing at him. It made no difference to him. He brought his nose to her, sniffing her hair, her neck, her breasts. Satisfied, he hauled her over his shoulder and carried her out of the river.