Bitterroot, Part 2

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “Oh yeah? Don’t think I could take you?” I asked.

  He failed to hide his grin. “Not at the moment.”

  “I didn’t do too bad the other day,” I said, feeling defensive. I mean, it had been my very first fight. I couldn’t expect to win the first time.

  “You’ll do even better as soon as you know this simple fact: you can’t win a fight against a vampire by tracking it with your eyes, your ears, or your sense of smell. Your senses are too slow—yes, even a werewolf’s senses.”

  “So what, then? Am I supposed to use my magical psychic powers?”

  His eyes sparkled. “Something like that.”

  “That’s stupid. Come on, let’s just fight. I can take you. I’m more ready this time.”

  “You don’t believe me, do you? That you might have some greater, as-yet-untapped power than your five known senses?”

  “Come on,” I said again, more insistently. I fell into a crouch, my muscles twitching in anticipation.

  Owen didn’t have to be asked a third time.

  One second he was standing in front of me; the next second, he was gone. All I felt was a rush of air as he blurred around and came in to attack from behind.

  His hand smacked into the back of my head. I spun and swung a fist, but he had already moved again.

  Owen came around, ducked low, and pinched my thigh. Hard. “Ow!” I tried to slap his hand away, but it somehow came around and pinched me on the butt.

  Okay. Now that was just insulting.

  He darted back, laughing. “Are you ready to listen to me now?”

  Instead of responding, I let my human form fall away and became the wolf, dropping to all fours on the fallen leaves. My wolf was practically gleeful with the opportunity to finally sink its teeth into the vampire. The change only left me vulnerable for a few seconds, but those few seconds were too much, because by the time I was done he was gone again. The clearing was empty. I hadn’t even seen him move.

  He was right. Even as a wolf, my eyes and ears were way too slow.

  Something clamped down on my tail and yanked hard.

  I twisted and snapped. My teeth missed—unfortunately—but I actually managed to see him step out of the way. I lunged into his legs and knocked him over.

  When I tried to jump him, he snaked an arm around my neck and hauled me to the ground, pinning me with an incredible amount of strength. I wriggled and thrashed. It was like fighting against iron bars.

  I huffed out a hot breath. Like before, the only way out of his grasp was to shift. I closed my eyes and pushed the wolf away. It was harder than usual. The animal in me wanted to stay and fight. I focused on my human form and felt arms and legs slide into place. Owen’s grip eased as my shape changed. I slid away, half smiling at my clever escape.

  I felt him behind me and began to turn, but it was too late.

  His hand pressed against the small of my back. He bowed me backward so far that I would have fallen if he wasn’t holding onto me.

  Owen’s breath whispered across my throat like a cool breeze. “Bang,” he said. The tickle of his lips sent shivers racing through my body. “You’re dead.”

  I didn’t move for a long, aching moment. How could I? He lifted his head to gaze at me with that piercing red stare, and I couldn’t remember how to breathe or think or move. Then he dipped his lips again, and I felt the brush of hard points against my throat.

  Fangs.

  My instincts immediately kicked into high gear. Unable to move forward, I instead threw myself backward and dropped to the ground. My insides quivered. The wolf in me pushed to be released, to attack, but I squared my shoulders and remained human even as my hip hit the hard ground.

  With my weight suddenly out from under him, Owen unbalanced. His eyes went wide. His arms pinwheeled comically, and he collapsed beside me.

  I took the chance to sit on his stomach and pin him down.

  “Who’s dead now?” I taunted. “Grr.” I pretended to slice at his throat with the claws I no longer had, and he caught my wrist gently.

  I expected him to laugh at me. I mean, it was a joke, after all. But he had gone serious, and those burning red eyes were gazing so deep into mine that I shivered. His hold on my wrists tightened and I was instantly aware of all of the places our bodies were touching. In that moment, with Owen staring up at me like I was the most interesting specimen ever created, I forgot everything the other werewolves thought about vampires.

  My heartbeat skipped as my adrenaline dropped. I was suddenly very, very aware of the rise and fall of his chest beneath me.

  His gaze focused on my lips.

  “Did you say something?” he asked, bringing my fingertips to his lips, and brushing a gentle kiss over them.

  “I said ... uh ...”

  But all I could think about was the very powerful mental image of kissing him, really kissing him, right that second, on the dirty ground of the dark forest. I wondered if his lips would be as cool as the rest of his skin, and if he tasted anything like he smelled. It was intoxicating and so powerfully tempting that I almost leaned forward and acted on the impulse right that second.

  Instead, I blinked hard and stood up, offering him a hand.

  “Rematch?” I asked with a weak smile.

  It took Owen about a nanosecond to recover. Vampire reflexes were enviable when it came to awkward moments.

  He was on his feet faster than I could blink, ignoring my outstretched hand. I had the distinct impression he was choosing not to touch me. He cleared his throat and blinked, and the tension cleared. He made it look easy to move on from our almost-kiss. It grated a little.

  “There’s no point in a rematch if you’re not going to listen to me,” he said.

  I blew out a breath, hating to admit he’d been right about my ability to fight him. The wolf in me was cocky. Then again, it’s not like I’d ever met another creature who outmatched me in strength and speed—until now.

  “Fine. We’ll try it your way,” I said. “What do I do?”

  “Close your eyes.”

  I glared at him. “Why?”

  His smirk dripped with sarcasm. “Don’t you trust me, kitten?”

  Kitten? Oh, he was asking for trouble.

  I tried to ignore the warmth that the pet name invoked, and firmed my jaw stubbornly. “I trust you about as far as I can throw you,” I muttered. But I closed my eyes. Jokes or not, I knew that he wouldn’t hurt me.

  “Good. Now I want you to forget about your sense of sight. Allow its absence to open your other senses.”

  I inhaled deeply. “I can smell you.”

  “Good. Use that.”

  “How?”

  “Catalog how I smell standing here … as opposed to here.” His voice shifted and I knew he’d moved to stand on my other side.

  “You moved,” I said.

  “How do you know?” he asked, his voice coming this time from a third location.

  Eyes closed, I turned my head toward the sound. “The direction of your scent.”

  “And?”

  I tipped my head left, tracking the changes I sensed. “And the air shifted as you passed.”

  “And?” he prompted, this time from right in front of me again.

  I shrugged. “Your voice is farther away.”

  “You could also feel the movement,” he said with more emphasis on the word feel than I liked.

  “Uh, you lost me. Can I open my eyes now?”

  “No.” He was moving again. His voice came from one direction, then another, like speed pacing. “Humans only use about five percent of their sensory abilities. Vampires use more like ninety-five. You are somewhere in the murky middle.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “In your human form, you operate pretty similar to one of them. Your wolf is a little better, but not much, because you aren’t using your full animal senses. You need to completely open yourself up when you shift. If you do, you can learn to carry it over into your human form as w
ell.”

  “How do I open myself up?” I ask, brows wrinkling. My eyelids itched to open. I didn’t like operating blind.

  “Attack me,” he said from my immediately left.

  I cracked an eyelid. “What?”

  “Keep your eyes closed,” he corrected, “and attack me.”

  “You’re insane. I couldn’t beat you with my eyes open,” I argued, but I shut my eyes again.

  “Exactly.” I could tell by his voice he was standing right in front of me again. Close enough to touch. If I wanted, I could reach out and…

  I swung my fist out and caught only air. Owen clucked his tongue from somewhere on my right. “You’re not using your other senses. Use my scent, the air, the way it shifts when I move.”

  I huffed out a breath. Part of me wanted to tell him this was stupid, and to stomp off. I felt like an idiot standing there with my eyes closed, swinging at nothing but air. But the cockiness was back. If Owen said I could do it, then I could.

  “I need to shift,” I said.

  “Do it.” He sounded unconcerned. Like he didn’t believe I’d be able to best him, no matter what form I was in.

  I pulled the wolf to the front of my mind and let it wash over me. The animal pushed against my human muscles and slid into place. It was harder keeping my eyes closed this way. My wolf did not like the vulnerability it presented.

  I squeezed my lids shut and concentrated on Owen’s scent. In wolf form, the sweetness in it wasn’t quite so distracting. In fact, my wolf wanted to take a bite out of it, a fact that helped sharpen my senses to pinpoint his location.

  I took my time, gathering my focus. Slowly, I began to sense things beyond the obvious. The warmth of the sun hardly penetrated at all in this part of the woods. The weak rays that managed to get through were heaviest along my rump, letting me know which direction the sun shone from. Birds called, but they sounded far off. The quiet here was almost eerie.

  Then, to my right, leaves rustled in a breeze so slight it didn’t even lift my fur. A sweet scent brushed my nose. I inhaled, still frozen. The air around me shifted a split second before I felt the impact—and swiveled so the momentum was lost.

  Owen laughed quietly. I tracked the sound, ears twitching.

  I sidestepped Owen’s second attempt completely. My confidence rose. I could do this extra-sensory thing after all. The air shifted and rippled as he came at me again. His arm arced through the air, creating a small wind. I heard it and ducked, coming up from underneath, teeth first.

  I didn’t expect him to see it coming. I was cocky.

  His hand closed around my throat and the pressure would’ve been enough to lift me off the ground if he’d wanted to. Instead, he squeezed once and let go, shoving me away.

  I opened my eyes, sucking air down my reopened windpipe. I backed away, eyeing him warily.

  “You need to guard your throat,” he said. “You’re leaving yourself wide open when you come at me like that.”

  My wolf eyes narrowed. I huffed out a breath, letting him know I was irritated.

  “Close your eyes again,” he said.

  I shook my head.

  He crossed his arms, all cocky confidence. “Do you want to learn to fight better, or not?” At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to tear a chunk out of him. Specifically, the crooked smile he wore.

  I ran at him, eyes wide open, muscles bunching as I leaped. I let out a growl and threw myself through the air, claws extended, jaw wide open.

  Owen lunged back, the movement exaggerated, like in slow motion—and caught me. We went down in a heap, rolling. My teeth snapped closed on empty air twice before he managed to pin me. He slammed my shoulders into the dirt. I heard myself yelp.

  He reached out, frowning. His hand stopped short of my throat, his fingers curling in a mock strangle. “See that? I would’ve had you.”

  I shifted before I thought about it. As soon as I did, I regretted it. Not only was I pinned, with him on top of me, I was human again. Very human and very comfortable underneath the solid weight of him lying over me. Heat rose to my cheeks. His gaze sharpened. His pressure eased to something more comfortable. The intensity from earlier returned—as if it were only waiting underneath the surface for each of us, ready to pick up right where we left off.

  “Looks like I came out on top,” he said, his voice sexy and teasing all at once.

  I stared up at him, lost in the depths of his eyes. They reminded me of wishing wells; deep pools that held such a wealth of longing and desire, it weighed you down. I pushed him away and wriggled out from under him before I could do something stupid.

  “I could’ve twisted out of that,” I said when I’d brushed the dirt off my jeans and put a safe distance between us.

  “Charlie.” Owen straightened and looked down his nose at me. “My nails are just as sharp as any werewolf’s teeth. You would’ve ripped your jugular trying to shake free of that. Defense and offense go hand in hand.”

  “You keep slowing things down to trip me up on purpose,” I argued, knowing that I was just making excuses. “I think I must fight better on instinct, when I don’t have to overthink it.”

  He shook his head. “Your instincts suck.”

  “They do not.” I puffed out my chest. “My reflexes—”

  “Are slower than molasses sliding down a vampire’s cold, hard—”

  “I get it!”

  Owen grinned. I shook my head and glanced around. The sun had dipped, darkening the forest into an even gloomier shade of gray. When had that happened? Owen seemed to notice it too.

  The smile disappeared. He glanced up at the sky, obscured by the canopy of leaves. “Time’s up,” he said under his breath. Out loud he said, “Let’s get you back to your side of civilization, shall we, kitten?”

  I started to follow and he stopped me. “You might want to travel on four legs. Better senses. And you’ll want the speed.”

  I debated pointing out how bad he said my senses were in either form, but the urgency in his expression stopped me. I shifted without a word and the moment my four paws hit the ground, Owen took off.

  He set a pace that was hard to keep up with. I had to hurry to duck underneath the branches and leaves he held out of my way. We followed no visible trail. I wondered how he knew which bushes to cut through, which trees to turn at. Soon enough, the forest opened up. The trees were wider apart. The sun peeked through at regular intervals. Birds called. They sounded closer now. Everything felt more … cheerful.

  Owen slowed, allowing me to catch up. I shifted back as I came up beside him, so we walked shoulder to shoulder.

  “Geez, where was the fire?” I asked.

  “My mother and her guard were nearby, looking for me, no doubt. I didn’t think you’d want to explain your presence to them.”

  “Your mom?” My eyes widened as I realized he hadn’t been nearly as concerned with the sun’s position as the proximity of his own kind. I shot a look into the thickness we’d left behind. “How do you know she was out there? I didn’t hear anything.”

  “For one, vampire hearing trumps werewolf hearing any day. But, if you were opening yourself to your senses, like I showed you, there’s a chance you would’ve picked up the sound.”

  “Well, thanks,” I said. I was too grateful to be irritated. He was right. I didn’t want to meet his mother again. Owen was one thing. I could handle him and his sarcastic, over-the-top, cocky comments. His mother scared the socks off me. “What’s your mom’s deal anyway? She looks...” I wanted to say “mean.” Instead I said, “Unhappy.”

  Owen laughed, but it was harsh. “My mother is hard to please. She has always seemed happiest when those around her are not.”

  “That’s a sad way to live,” I said.

  Even though I’d promised not to, I thought of my mom. I wondered what she’d be doing right now. Probably working, or maybe visiting the antique shop outside of town. The one we’d found on my last birthday. Which reminded me, I’d made plans t
o shop with Regan. The thought made me more nervous than being with Owen.

  “Earth to kitten,” he said, waving a hand in front of my face.

  I blinked and found Owen watching me. “Yeah, I’m here,” I said.

  “Good. We’re almost home.”

  “What?” I looked around, startled by how far we’d come while I daydreamed. The forest thinned up ahead. Over the steady whack of hammers, the hum of voices could be heard from the clearing where the arena was being constructed.

  We stopped still inside the cover of trees.

  “I think I’ll say my farewells from here, if it’s all the same,” Owen said.

  “Good idea.”

  Voices floated closer. A boy and a girl. I caught sight of red fabric, someone’s shirt, as they weaved along a narrow trail several yards away. The girl laughed at something the boy said. I froze. Regan. Oh geez, it was Regan. And Carter. And they were headed our way.

  “Owen it’s—”

  I was yanked sideways before I could finish my sentence. Owen’s hand on my arm pulled me behind a grove of trees and spun me so I faced him. My back hit the trunk of the tree with a thud. Owen’s finger came up to his lips, signaling me to stay quiet.

  We stayed that way for several moments, waiting for them to pass. My breathing never slowed.

  Owen was so close. His breath was hot; I could feel it on my neck. I stared up at him, lips parted. Half of me prayed for him to kiss me. The other half was horrified at the thought.

  If we kissed, would he taste undead? The idea should have repulsed me. But I was mostly curious.

  Regan and Carter passed by less than twenty feet away. I held my breath, sure Owen would be scented and we’d be spotted. What would happen then? Would they fight each other? A lump formed in my throat. It wouldn’t matter to Regan that one of us—or both, sort of—was already engaged to him. She’d only see that I’d snuck away to be with the enemy. All hope of a relationship with her would be out the window.

  But the two of them faded away as the trail snaked out of range. I felt my shoulders sag in relief.

  Owen looked amused. He stroked his knuckles down my cheek, like a cold breeze kissing my skin. “You didn’t want to be seen with me, kitten?”