by Sadie Hart
Hexe jerked his head in a nod. “Then stay human.”
He edged forward first and Steele followed. They eased over the snow like moving shadows, the howl of the wind masking any noise they made from the snow crunching under foot. It also wiped away any footprints left behind. The only trail they had left to follow was the scraps of scent tossed around on the wind, and the knowledge that the poacher was probably heading straight for Hexe’s home.
Steele lost track of how long they walked, one slow step after the other, stalking through the darkness side by side. The cabin had to be close, but she couldn’t see it. “Any idea how far we got?”
The words came out a whisper, but Hexe heard them, and said just as softly back, “No. But we’re close.”
They inched on, the muscles in her thighs starting to ache from her low, crouching walk, when a scream sliced through the roar of the storm. Panicked, desperate. There was no gunshot, no second cry. If Hexe hadn’t frozen too, she’d have thought she’d heard nothing at all. A growl rumbled up through him and Steele reached out to lay a hand against his back. Through the thick coat she felt his muscles bunch, fighting the urge to run.
“If I have to stay calm, so do you,” she whispered.
They moved forward together just as the crack of a gunshot split the air. It lifted the hair down her arms and raised goose bumps over her flesh. Steele bit back a roar as the sudden silence stretched through the forest. There was only one reason he’d have pulled the trigger. One. And he’d get exactly what he wanted now.
Chapter Seven
Hexe grabbed Steele’s coat and hauled her flat into the snow again. She snarled up at him, but there was no missing the pain in her eyes. The sudden flare of defeat. He shook her coat, but Steele jerked free. “I wasn’t going to run, she’s already dead.”
He almost laughed. “No. We’re going to haul ass here, Steele. We need to catch him before he finishes skinning her, you got it?”
She blinked at him, but Hexe waved off any questions she might have had. “Stay low, stay quiet.”
Hexe let her go and then leapt into a low run. Blindly, he ran in the direction of the gunshot. Even his inner leopard couldn’t see much in the whirlwind of snow as the storm closed in around them. Frost chilled his lungs as he ran, burning down his throat. He didn’t wait to see if she followed, he knew she would. Steele would be at his side, every bit the warrior he knew she was. He was sure of that much at least, long before he’d gotten her to admit it.
She’d played the cold bitch for so long he’d wanted to hear it from her. That she didn’t want him dead.
Hexe darted amongst the trees, his eyes straining to see, but it was his nose that caught the coppery tang of blood first. Then light from his house flashed into view and he ran for it. The door lay open, revealing a splatter of blood in the snow. Large cat prints just outside his door. Shit. Steele stumbled up behind him and froze, pivoting in place as she too tried to find where the poacher had disappeared. There wouldn’t have been time for him to skin her...
“He missed.” Her hand grabbed his arm and squeezed. “He missed, Hexe.”
The hope in her voice clawed at him.
“Obviously he hit her.” He jerked a hand towards the snow but she shook her head in the dim lighting, snow buffeting around them. The wind howled, rattling through the trees.
“His shot clipped her and clipped her good, but it didn’t kill her. She ran.” Steele grabbed his arm. “He has to catch her. If the silver kills her and he’s not there, or she shifts back, he’s got nothing.”
The trees shook, snow falling so thickly he could barely see the dark outline of Steele now, even in the light of his doorway. Thunder gave an ominous roar, closing in. The roar of the storm snaked through the trees, dark and threatening. “Come on,” Hexe said, pulling the door to his cabin shut behind him, instantly blocking out the light. He stepped out into the swirling snow, darkness encompassing them both. He extended his hand, unable to see fingers. “Let’s find her before he does.”
It was stupid. They should have gone inside, holed up for the night. That much blood, with silver in her veins, the poison would be eating at her. She didn’t stand a chance out here, but he couldn’t leave her. Not without at least trying. She was a member of his tribe and she was hurt, he couldn’t leave her out there with a killer after her.
Then he felt Steele’s fingers brush past his, clumsy, then her hand found his a second time and she gripped it. Together, they staggered into the storm, the harsh bite of the wind burrowing under his skin and left him frozen to the core. Hexe didn’t know how long they searched, stumbling blindly through the snow, the frosty gale whipping around them. Trees scraped at his face, shards of ice leaving his face raw.
The normal quiet of the wintry forest turned into a roar, wind funneling through the trees until there was so much sound he could barely hear himself think. Desperate, they shouted for her. Unable to remember her name all he could do was shout for her to come back. Only the angry howl of the storm answered him. Hexe staggered in the snow and Steele hauled him to his feet, only for her to stumble in return. Together they dragged each other deeper into the forest, blindly calling out, and receiving no answer.
Hexe doubted anyone could even hear them.
“I have to shift,” he told Steele.
Her hand tightened over his. “You’ll give him exactly what he wants. A fucking target.”
“If he can see in this shit then by all means, he can take the damn shot. But I can’t just leave her out here.” And he knew Steele would understand, for the same reason she was out here with him. She could no more run away like her father did than Hexe could. They had to try and they had to give it everything they had. “As a leopard I might have a shot at seeing something out here.”
“Then let me.”
“Like hell.” Hexe tugged her closer until he could feel her body pressed against his, barely able to see the dark line of her silhouette in the midst of the storm. “I need someone at my back in case he takes a shot at me.”
“I have more experience as a cat in these storms than you.”
He slid his hand up her side, over the thick padding of her parka until he found her face. His knuckles brushed down her cheek. He’d known all along the woman under that icy mask had a heart. He’d wanted to badly to see inside her, to hear her laugh, see her smile. She was the most determined fighter he’d ever known. “Watch my back, Steele.”
Before she could protest any more, Hexe pulled away. The wind ripping between them and he staggered, the cold seeping right through his thick jacket, and Hexe closed his eyes and called the beast inside him. The cat rose under the surface, nothing more than a heartbeat away. The magick stole through him, his human body, clothes and all, vanished and in his spot stood a snow leopard. Lifting his blocky head, Hexe inhaled, and while the ice burned down his throat, Steele was close enough he could find her.
Even his cat-half wanted to hunker down and wait out the storm. Animals weren’t stupid enough to keep pressing on, and the leopard had little interest in companionship or tribes. He pressed his blunt muzzle against Steele’s wrist and waited until her hand had stroked down to the back of his neck, gripping in the thick ruff of his fur before he turned back to his search. Snow swirled around him, falling heavily. It matted into his fur and stuck in balls between his toes.
They pressed on, plowing through the heavy snow banks. His heavy paws sank easily through the soft ground, his belly dragging along the frozen top. But even as a leopard he couldn’t catch her scent. How the hell had she gotten so far, so fast? And the killer too? Hexe paused, staring out into the darkness. He could see better, but even in this form he couldn’t see much through the storm.
Hexe twisted around, trying to orient himself in the swirl of the storm. They’d been out here for at least an hour, probably more, and the blizzard showed no signs of letting up. So far they’d been lucky not to stagger off the edge of a cliff, but they couldn’t continue to pre
ss their luck. Guilt ate at his gut as he stared out into the darkness, the dim silhouettes of trees shrouded by blurs of swirling white.
At this rate they’d be lucky to find a place to hunker down and wait the storm out.
“We need to head back. Before we can’t see anything at all,” Steele said, her voice rough. “Damn it.”
Hexe growled, hating the fact that they were both thinking it. He wasn’t the kind of man to leave a wounded woman in the middle of the Himalayas. He wasn’t the type to just walk away. His lips curled back in a silent snarl, but he turned into Steele.
He didn’t bother to shift back. Didn’t bother to tell her the obvious. They might not be able to find their way back to his cabin. Instead, Hexe struggled down his tracks, trying to scent their fast-fading trail. Inside, his anger clawed at him.
He was leaving her. To the storm, to a fucking killer.
What kind of King did that make him? What kind of man did that make him?
A coward.
“Fuck,” Steele said, fury riding along the edges of her voice. She let out a frustrated scream, her grip tightening in his fur.
Hexe paused, waiting for her to still at his side before he pressed on, but he could hear the agonized rip of her voice in his head, an echo that wouldn’t stop replaying. They were giving up. He leaned one furred shoulder into her leg and gave a soft huff, knowing she probably wouldn’t hear him, but she could feel his body pressed against hers.
Together they pressed on, Hexe struggling to follow what was left of their trail, but bitter cold and the heavy snowfall made it damn near impossible. The frozen gusts burned like shards of glass down his throat as he scented the hopeless trail. Shit. He wasn’t about to die out here. Muscles bunching under his skin Hexe strained forward, hoping instinct would guide him home, when he caught the sharp tang of blood in the air.
Followed by the rancid rot of silver.
Heart pounding, Hexe shifted back, one arm flailing out to catch Steele’s. “She’s here. She’s close.”
He spun, jerking Steele with him. They had to be right on top of her if he could smell her in this weather. Inhaling, his throat burned but he could still smell the blood. She had to be right fucking here and he couldn’t see her. She was right under their noses and—
Steele stumbled, collapsing into the snow. Hexe started to haul her up when her hand closed around his arm and she yanked him down. “She’s right here. Shit. She’s so cold.”
Hexe could barely see Steele through the darkness, just the faint outline of her shadow but he felt around the ground until he could feel the prone woman under his hands. Her skin was icy to the touch, frozen. Frantic, he ran his hands up the length of her arm, over her shoulder, to the hollow of her throat. “I don’t feel a pulse.”
His heart slammed in his chest and he jerked his head up, nostrils flaring wide. Was the killer close? Every muscle down his back went rigid, instantly prepping for a fight. But no gunshot sliced through the howl of the wind.
“She’s not breathing,” Steele said, her voice a hollow whisper. “Damn it.”
By the rotting stench that filled the air, Hexe knew she was gone. The silver had gotten to her. Anger churned in his stomach. If they’d been faster she might have had a chance, but in the end, he only blamed one person for her death. The bastard still out there.
“I hope he freezes to death,” Steele whispered, her voice nearly stolen by the wind.
Hexe growled. That was too kind a death.
With a soft sigh he bent his head to the woman lying in the snow, checking for any signs of life one last time. Nothing. Hexe closed his eyes on a soft inhale. Damn. Damn-damn-damn. Holding back the rage and frustration burning in his gut, he blew out a slow breath. “I’m sorry,” he told the woman, before he pulled himself to a stand and reached for Steele. “We need to go.”
Storm or not, he didn’t like being out in the open. There was nothing else they could do for her. As much as he wanted to, there was nothing to bring her back. The mountains would bury her in the snow, which was more than they could do. With a heavy heart, Hexe tried to gauge the direction they’d been heading in when they’d fund her but it all looked the same. A blur of shadows and darkness, the sharp scrap of the wind across his face.
His lips were chapped from the cold and he already felt frozen stiff, but he didn’t dare change back, nor let Steele shift. Somewhere in the darkness there was still one more person alive, one who wouldn’t hesitate to put a silver bullet through his heart. Hexe ground his teeth at the thought, his spine suddenly stiff. If he found that bastard first, there would be no place in these mountains the killer could hide.
“I’m sorry,” he heard Steele say, her voice soft with regret. Then she stood next to him, leaning into him. Did she blame herself for that woman’s death? Did she— “I’ll kill him.”
A surprised laugh sounded from him, more pained than amused, but he understood the roil of anger in her voice. “Get in line, sweetheart. She was mine. I was her King. I was supposed to keep her safe.”
When she didn’t say anything to that, Hexe shoved on, pressing through the snow. Blindly he staggered through the darkness, thick tree branches reaching out of nowhere to scrape at his face, to snag in his coat. He felt Steele beside him, her hand in his as the struggled their way through the woods, each step tentative, as if fearing a sudden drop. If he were wrong, they could be heading straight towards a cliff face.
One wrong step could send them both tumbling to their death. His skin burned, both from the constant batter of the trees and snow, and from the cold. Steele pulled up short beside him. “At this rate we’re never going to find the damn cabin. We need to hole up somewhere for the night. Let the storm blow over.”
It was only growing darker, the snowfall thicker.
Hexe started to agree when he spotted a sliver of light in the darkness. Lifting his head, he inhaled through the sharp bite of the storm and smelled home. Yes. Exhausted and defeated, he staggered towards the cabin. “Steele…”
Light leaked out through a window and Hexe struggled with the door, ramming his shoulder into the heavy wood to get it to open. Panting and breathless, they both staggered inside, only for him to swing the door shut behind them, blocking out the constant batter of the storm. Steele stood in the softly lit living room, snow frosted her cheeks, her normally black hair turned white.
With one hand to his lips, he signaled for quiet. They both scanned the room, but no one stood out in the open. He gestured for Steele to check the other side of the kitchen counter as he moved towards the couch. Half frozen, his body was stiff, aching with exhaustion, but he stalked across the room silent, careful to keep on the balls of his feet. No one. He glanced back to Steel and she shook her head, instead pointing towards his bedroom.
He waited as she crept towards him, pausing to lock the door so no one else could follow them in, and then she eased over to his side. Together they checked his bedroom. Nothing. Relief sank down into his bones and Hexe wanted nothing more than to strip out of these snow covered clothes and get warm again.
But one glance back towards his front door and it stopped him cold. The carnage there brought a dangerous growl to his lips. A chair was knocked over, wood splintered over the floor. Blood spotted the hardwood in his doorway. Snow had blown in and lay in piles, half hiding the evidence of the struggle, but a table lay smashed. The picture of his parents was in the middle of the hall.
She’d fought the killer here before she’d fled.
“He didn’t get what he wanted,” Steele said softly. “In the end, she didn’t give him that.”
Hexe lifted one hand to rake it through his hair and froze. His hand trembled. Shit. Steele stepped up beside him and he startled, the muscles in his back tensing. Readying for a fight, but she just caught his shaking hand in hers and held it. Held him, until he stopped trembling.
“You cool?”
He blew out a soft breath and nodded. “Yeah. Just...”
H
e waved at the empty room. They’d been in his house. In his territory. And he’d failed her. “She’s dead and he’s still out there.”
“Hopefully freezing to death himself.” But even as she said it, Steele looked at the front door, her jaw tense. She didn’t like cowering inside any more than he did. She wanted to be out there hunting down the man who’d attacked them.
And so did he.
***
Steele slumped down onto the couch across from the fire. Hexe had a nice flame going now, but it didn’t seem to ward off the chill that lingered through the house. Exhausted, Steele lay her head back against the luscious cushions and closed her eyes, the only sounds in the house the crackle of the nearby fire and the steady thrum of Hexe’s breathing. In and out. Calming.
They’d both changed out of their frozen clothes, she’d borrowed some of Hexe’s stuff. It felt weird wearing his scent, but she wasn’t going to complain. They were dry and warm. And more importantly, she could still fight in them if the killer came back.
“You okay?” His deep voice rumbled through the small cabin, drawing a skating shiver down her spine.
The floor creaked under his weight and Steele blew out a harsh breath. No. She wasn’t okay. She didn’t like not knowing if that man was dead or alive. She wanted him dead, his blood on her hands. Her teeth ground together and she shook her head.
“No.” Her gaze to cut to his. Hexe leaned against the counter, arms folded over his chest as he watched her. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his muscles flexed in his arms as if he had to hold himself back. A low growl rippled out of him.
Obviously he didn’t like being caged in here by the storm either.
“How long do you think it’ll last?” she said with a tilt of her head towards the door.
Hexe shook his head and shrugged. “You would know better than me. Normally I don’t care. I have enough food stored in the cellar out back to last me a few weeks and I’d keep myself busy.”