He is on his feet. Everything is so clear around him, the sounds of the night painful to his sharp hearing. His eyes flicker to the side, catch the scurry of a small rodent through the underbrush, vivid, crystal sharp in more color than he has ever experienced.
He takes a moment to breathe, to feel his lungs expand, far past the capacity he is used to, the final twinge of healing tissue almost pleasant in its pain. He looks down at his right hand, claws compact and horribly sharp while his left remains human. He doesn’t find this odd or strange. Never for a moment wonders why he is different from his brothers and sisters, that his skin tone is pink and healthy, not the washed out white of the others.
He feels the strength of his body and the pure and utter joy of being alive and embraces it. This is what it is like to be perfect.
The smell of blood is intoxicating. He looks down, sees three bodies, senses the soft organs within them, the tender tissue that will sustain him. He is on them immediately, talons raking them wide open, slicing out the slick livers, the delicious lungs and still-warm hearts.
His meal is over quickly, the last of the blood licked from his claws and fingers with careful precision. He is up and focused so quickly he only registers as he acts the sounds of something approaching.
A soldier bursts into view, rifle ready, pointed his way. He smiles, feeling his straight, strong teeth with the tip of his tongue, the taste of the soldier’s fear mingling with the flavor of his last meal.
He is about to pounce when he feels others approaching. More soldiers. And others who smell so familiar he waits.
He knows their faces, memories flashing through his mind. Milo with his fuzzy black hair and dark eyes. Cole the shining angel, looking even more so standing there, staring at him. Sarah and Nishka, hugging each other, unable to stop crying. Kieran looking brokenhearted. Marcus. And Leila. Shining Leila who whispers his name and holds out her hands to him.
Only then does he understand and make a connection. He is something new. There is a difference about him they see clearly, though he knows only this body and this perfection and cares about only this new life he has been given.
The sliver of him that remains Reid is overjoyed they are alive, just enough of an influence it keeps him from pouncing on them.
They smell like dinner.
He shakes his head at the pale girl who weeps and whispers his name while the guy beside her puts his arm around her. Jealousy is gone, love is no more. Maybe once, if given a chance, but not now.
Not ever.
He senses the change in the soldiers, the threat they offer, and laughs. They are so slow, too slow and he is powerful. Even as the rifles crack, the bullets fly, he is sliding through the darkness like a part of it. Over the girl’s soft pleas he hears the others calling to him, his siblings, his true pack. And while he is equipped to fight and created to kill, he has been trained to run.
And he does, flying through the forest, feet skimming the ground, lungs full of the night air. He runs and cries out to his family in answer while his heart soars and he swears to himself he will keep running forever and never look back.
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Check out this sample of the exciting finale
Book Four of The Hunted Series
there’s nothing left to lose
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