Fenris materializes beside me, his massive form condensing into something more mundane-at first glance he appears to be a large black dog rather than a monstrous wolf. Even his ethereal blue glow has dimmed to almost nothing, just the faintest shimmer visible only if you know to look for it.
Remember-calm and unthreatening, Fenris says as he pads beside me. She’s already frightened enough to run.
“I know,”
I mutter through clenched teeth.
Do you? Your face suggests otherwise.
I force my features to relax, though the effort feels like trying to reshape stone. If I approach her with all the rage burning inside me, I’ll only drive her further away.
There are things I’ve done to reassure her she’s safe. I didn’t kill the Forest Springs Alpha. Or her boyfriend. I wanted to, but I didn’t, I even held Fenris back. This should be enough to prove she she can return without worries. 9
Pride in my self-restraint rises, just in time for the crunch of gravel to draw my attention to the nearby tent.
A young man emerges, his scent far too familiar. What was his name?
Andrew, Fenris growls, the sound carrying through the quiet night air.
His movements are cautious, deliberate, he’s not stupid. He’s caught our scent.
He spots Jack-Eye first, but then his eyes land on me. His body goes rigid.
Jack-Eye, to his credit, keeps his posture relaxed. Andrew approaches with his head slightly bowed, then drops into a formal submission posture ten feet away from us.
“Lycan King,”
he murmurs, voice barely audible.
I lift my upper lip, unable to suppress the snarl building in my throat. His scent is all over the area and around the camper-all over Grace’s space. The rage bubbling beneath my skin threatens to spill over. My fingers itch to tear, to rip, to punish.
But then I remember how Grace trembled when she walked into my suite, and I take a deep breath.
Humans are weak. They’re too fragile to understand the violence underpinning our society. I must hide it from her.
There will be time to repay this pup’s disloyalty.
“Take him back to Blue Mountain,”
I tell Jack-Eye, not wanting to linger. Not with Grace within reach.
“We’ll deal with his punishment there.”
“Got it, boss.”
Andrew’s eyes dart between me and Jack-Eye, weighing his options. Smart enough to know there aren’t many.
“Alpha Wilder asked me to protect her,”
he says quietly.
“To make sure she reaches Forest Springs safely.”
“And yet you’re not in Forest Springs.”
His anxiety spikes, filling the air with the sour smell of fear.
“She… she decided to come with someone else. A stranger. I couldn’t leave her unprotected.”
I take three measured steps toward the camper, my eyes fixed on its door. Andrew’s scent is everywhere around it, but it’s the camper itself giving me pause.
The skin between my shoulder blades prickles with unease. There’s something here-something neither wolf nor human.
“Who is she with?”
I demand, still facing the camper door.
“A woman named Lyre. She offered to take Grace to Yellowstone.”
His voice drops even lower.
“Grace wanted to leave the pack life behind. All of it.”
Leave it all behind. Leave me behind. The thought cuts deeper than it should.
I take the final steps toward the camper door. For a brief, violent moment, I contemplate kicking it down, asserting my dominance the way I would with any challenger. My foot actually lifts from the ground.
Fenris nips sharply at my leg, teeth catching the fabric of my pants.
Don’t be ridiculous, he growls. Knock like a normal person.
I scowl down at him.
“I am the Lycan King. I don’t need to-“
You’re also trying to win her trust, not terrify her further. Knock.
He’s right, damn him. With jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth, I raise my fist to the door and knock three times, each one sharp and distinct. The sound echoes in the quiet campground, too loud in the stillness.
After two seconds, the door is still closed, so I knock again.
Fenris sighs. Have a little patience. We can hear them moving in there.
Which is exactly why they should have this door open already, damn it. I lift my hand again. O
Lyre’s hand twitches as whoever it is knocks again, right before her fingers touch the door handle. C
Her head jerks back as she scowls, before dropping her arm and stepping back. Leaning against the opposite wall, she crosses her arms and counts silently, her lips moving with each number.
Her confidence is enough to instill awe. I can’t imagine a time I’ve ever felt as if I could just stand in front of a door as someone impatiently knocks, without answering.
And yet it makes all the sense in the world. This is her home. Her sanctuary. Who dares come knocking like this?
I want to be more like her.
“I’m grabbing a soda. Want one?”
I whisper, slipping past her to the tiny kitchen nook.
Lyre shakes her head, still counting. I watch her lips move as she mouths,
“Forty-two… forty-three…”
The knocking grows more insistent. Harder. Louder. The RV shakes with each impact, swaying gently underfoot. The first night, I’d been mildly seasick over the feeling. Now, I’m used to it.
After pulling a cold can from the fridge, I slide into one of the dinette seats, facing the door.
From here, I can’t see the door, but I can watch Lyre’s methodical resistance.
“Eighty-six… eighty-seven…”
She hasn’t even glanced at the door again, her eyes closed as her lips continue to move soundlessly.
I’m sure it’s Rafe out there, and am only surprised he isn’t yelling and demanding for us to open up at this point.
Then again, it isn’t like he knows Lyre, and we’re in the middle of a human settlement, even if it isn’t permanent homes. It would be awkward if the human authorities were called, I’m sure. We’re far out of pack range, I have no idea whose territory we are in now, actually.
It isn’t as if I was never taught about other territories, but there are so many, and I had no reason to be interested in packs so far from ours. Only our neighbors and some of the larger packs are familiar names.
“Ninety-eight… ninety-nine… one hundred.”
Lyre pushes off from the wall and strolls to the door with deliberate slowness.
The knocking has become pounding now, the thin door shuddering in its frame.
Lyre yanks it open.
“Yes?”
Her voice could freeze a desert in an instant.
“What exactly is so important that you felt entitled to damage my property?”
I take a long sip of cold soda, relishing the sweetness. Let Rafe stew out there. Let him explain himself to someone who doesn’t care about his excuses. I’m looking forward to it, Lyre doesn’t seem like the kind of person to deal with his arrogant attitude. O
“I’m looking for Grace Harper.”
The soda catches in my throat. Not Rafe’s voice. It’s deeper. Colder.
Caine.
I choke, sputtering as the liquid burns down the wrong pipe. My eyes tear with the pain.
There’s a commotion-heavy footsteps, a wolf’s snarl, Lyre protesting, and then there’s Caine in front of me, his giant frame overpowering the tiny camper space. He kneels by my side, eyes locked on mine, storm-gray and intense. His oversized hand whacks at my back as if I’m choking on a peanut and not a sip of carbonated Coke.
My lungs seize with panic. I can’t breathe. Can’t speak. Can’t do anything but stare at the Lycan King who murdered Alpha Brax kneeling in front of me in this ridiculous rainbow camper looking at me like-
His hand connects with my back again, delivering a firm smack between my shoulder blades. The impact dislodges the soda from my airway, and I cough again, the sound much less wet this time.
“Are you okay?”
His voice sounds strangely gentle for a serial killer who’s hunted down a runaway.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.