The absence of conversation became even harder to swallow as the night dragged on. Without anyone to talk to and only the aurora to look at, Astrid quickly grew bored. Her listless focus swung back and forth like a pendulum, going between anxiety over their journey and anguish over her discomfort. She shifted positions several times, ultimately settling on sidesaddle, though it only took the edge off the pain.
She felt worn out, and in more ways than one. So much had happened in such a short span, and she’d hardly had time to process it all. Now, all she had was time, and her situation loomed in front of her, more daunting than the tundra.
She belonged to a werewolf, and she had no means of escape. Though, she wondered if this was because there really were no options for her, or if she just wasn’t looking for them.
The sex was incredible—but that wasn’t enough for her to become complacent, to let Erik control every aspect of her life. And now that Erik was taking her to Ginnifer, she’d have no reason to stay with him. If ever there was an opportunity to escape, now was the time.
Astrid tried to contemplate her escape, but there were too many unknown variables. She’d have to wait until she saw her sister. Perhaps when Erik was distracted by whatever diabolical plan he’d hatched, she and Ginnifer could slip away. On her own, Astrid would most certainly die on the tundra, but Ginnifer was well versed in arctic survival and knew the area. Together, they could make their way back to civilization.
After a while, her mind went hazy. The pain between her legs felt dull compared to the blistering cold. She managed to stuff her hands into her sleeves and keep her fingers warm in Erik’s fur, but the cold made its way into every loose seam of her clothes. Hours passed, and exhaustion had her nodding off, only to be woken moments later by a blast of icy wind.
She wasn’t sure how long they traveled for before the sun began to rise. She’d never been so tired without actually walking. Just when she thought she was going to fall over, the wolves went behind a dune. They paced for a few moments, and Astrid realized that they were packing the snow down with their feet. Erik shrugged her off, and she fell onto unsteady legs.
Sylvestre and Yves lay down beside one another, while Erik began to dig a hole in the snow. Sten circled around her and then flopped down, his long body forming a blockade around her. Relief flooded her as she realized that they were stopping to rest. Her trembling legs gave way, and she pressed her body against Sten’s, eager to siphon some of his warmth into her numb body.
Within seconds she was jerked back, as Erik grabbed the back of her shirt in his teeth. He picked her up, carrying her like felled prey, and deposited her into the hole he’d dug. Astrid couldn’t muster up the energy to scowl, though as it turned out, the gesture would have been wasted. Erik laid over the hole, covering most of it with his body and blocking the wind out entirely. Sheltered from the elements, Astrid was almost comfortable, and she had no trouble falling asleep.
The sun was setting when she woke. Given that there were just over four hours of daylight this time of the year, Astrid understood why she still felt like shit. She wanted to go back to sleep, but Erik plucked her from the hole. In a daze, she climbed onto his back as the needle-like wind buffeted her cheeks.
If anything, the sleep had made her feel even worse. Over the hours they’d traveled, she’d grown accustomed to feeling cold and tired. Now, both feelings were back with a vengeance, and accompanied by hunger. Once again, there was nothing for her to distract herself with, and she could only fixate on how miserable she felt.
Twice, she tapped Erik on the shoulders and asked when they’d be eating. Either her voice had been lost in the wind, or he’d ignored her. She gave up for a while, deciding that they’d have to eat eventually.
They finally stopped once, but not to eat. Sten and Sylvestre broke through a thick patch of ice, uncovering drinkable water. While the others drank without any difficulty in their wolf forms, Astrid had to scoop the water up in her hands. By the time they were traveling again, she regretted this, as the stinging sensation never quite left her fingers.
The wind began to die down as the sun rose for a second time. Astrid’s hunger had long since turned to nausea, and then a clawing within her stomach. She felt hollow, and this time she knew without a doubt that she couldn’t hold out much longer. Already, her fingers were struggling to maintain their grip on Erik’s fur and her body had reached a point where it was no longer shaking, but giving periodic shudders, like a car running out of gas.
“Erik,” she said, her voice a feeble rasp. “I have to eat something.”
Erik kept walking.
Astrid was about to let go and let herself fall, as she wasn’t sure how else to get his attention. But before she could, Sten sped up and stepped in front of Erik, blocking the alpha’s path. He gave Erik two punctuated barks, nodded towards the left, and then turned to veer off course. Erik watched him for a moment. Then, with a derisive snort, followed after him.
Sten led at a brisk pace, and soon the flat tundra gave way to a region of snow-capped hills. As Erik ascended the first hill, Astrid once again prepared herself to let go. She’d already been struggling to hang on over the flat terrain, and the hills were a nightmare.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to hold out long. Nestled between the two hills was a small cavern. Sten led the way into it, with Yves and Sylvestre following close behind. Erik stopped in the entryway and sniffed the air a few times, before walking in.
***
Erik brusquely shook the human from his back before shifting. His bones shortened and reconfigured themselves as fur gave way to flesh. The same hot blood still coursed through his veins, along with a fierce irritation.
While his pack believed their alpha had a nasty temper and was quick to rage, quite the opposite was true. Most of the time he lashed out at his wolves, it was all for show. It took a great deal to arouse true anger in him.
But in addition to the paranoia that now plagued him, Erik found himself frequently skirting the edge of violence. Ever since he’d taken the human into his den, a low-level agitation had been simmering within him. And between fatigue and the journey he still didn’t want to be on, the pot was beginning to boil over.
Sten must have sensed his brother’s instability, because he kept his distance as they both shifted.
The moment Erik was able to articulate, he snarled, “What do you want?”
“You have to feed her,” Sten said, nodding towards the human. “She’s hungry.”
That was what this was about?
“She can wait,” Erik said. “We’re all hungry.”
“She’s a human,” Sten said slowly, taking on the reprimanding, but patient tone he often used with his daughter. “She needs to eat every day, three times, ideally.”
Three times…a day?
Erik could tell from Sten’s severe expression that he wasn’t joking, but he had trouble wrapping his mind around this new information. His pack usually ate one large meal per day when caribou herds were in the area. Aside from that, they regularly went two to three days without feeding, sometimes over a week in the wintertime.
He stepped back and turned to look at the human. She was on the ground on all fours, her breaths shallow and erratic. For the first time, he really saw her, and his gut twisted. Her eyes were dull and unfocused, staring blankly at the ground. Her caramel skin had paled to a sallow gray and her purple lips opened and closed, as though she were trying to form words.
Erik thought back to all of the times he’d ignored her pleas for food, assuming she was just whining. He tried to think back, how long had it been since she’d eaten? They’d been traveling for nearly two days, and he hadn’t thought to feed her before they left.
He stared at her, momentarily overwhelmed. What should he do first? Feed her? He hadn’t thought to bring food, he would have to go hunt. Would she be able to wait long enough for him to find prey? How much longer before she starved?
While Erik hesitated, Sten to
ok action. He grabbed something from his bag. Erik heard the rustle of plastic, and a moment later, Sten was at her side with a candy bar.
“Here, take this for now. We’re going to go hunt for you as soon as we make sure the cave is clear.” He drew her into his lap. “You’re soaked… Where are her extra clothes?”
The question was directed at Erik, but he didn’t have an answer. She had asked to pack clothes, and he had ignored her.
“I’ll go hunt,” Erik said.
He walked past the two of them, not waiting for acknowledgment. The twisting in his gut had intensified. He recognized the feeling, though it had been ages since he’d felt it.
Guilt.
It took him a long time to find prey. There were hares under the snow, but his nose was little help in tracking their movements. He chased one for what felt like hours. Each time he collapsed one of its tunnels, it would manage to dart off down another before he could grab it. Between the useless emotions he could not shake and being outsmarted by a tiny herbivore, Erik felt very much like a pup again.
He felt no victory when he finally caught it, only a renewed sense of urgency. He headed back to the cave on swift feet, anxious to feed the human.
When he arrived, he had to immediately curb his wolf’s anger. The human was curled up in his brother’s lap, her head resting against his chest, lips slightly parted and eyes closed in sleep. Someone had managed to start a small fire, and the three males were sitting around it in human form, speaking quietly. Yves and Sylvestre looked up at Erik as he entered, but Sten’s eyes were fixed on the human. One of his hands threaded through her hair, gently stroking her.
Erik shifted. He tossed the hare to Sylvestre and then sat down, resisting the urge to glare at his brother.
“She’s only just stopped shaking,” Sten said, glancing over at Erik. “Let her rest for a bit. You can have her after she eats.”
“Did I ask for her?” Erik was instantly annoyed with his own attitude. He was still frustrated with himself, and it was making him combative.
Sten was quiet for a while, allowing Erik time to cool off. Sylvestre stripped the hare and staked it over the fire. Once it was cooking, he took Yves out for a patrol of the area, leaving Sten and Erik alone. The human continued to sleep on Sten’s chest, not so much as cracking an eye even as the cavern began to fill with the scent of roasting meat.
After some time, Sten spoke. “She’s not a wolf, Erik. If you want to keep her, you have to remember that. She needs to eat every day, and you have to keep her warm and dry.”
Erik felt like his brother was instructing him on how to care for a pet, not a fully-grown human.
“I will never understand how her species rose to the top of the food chain,” Erik muttered.
It was like having a pup, but one without claws and fangs. She was so vulnerable, so reliant on him for her wellbeing.
He had failed her, and it pissed him off that that bothered him so damn much.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The pace of their journey remained grueling over the next three nights, but the wolves did stop to make sure Astrid was fed. Maintaining a full stomach did wonders, both for her mood and her ability to stave off the cold.
Astrid never once saw Erik sleep. Each time they stopped to rest, he left to hunt. While she ate, he was gone again, scouting the perimeter. It gave her some time to get to know the others, who occasionally joined her in eating, but mostly took the time to rest and socialize.
Sten and Sylvestre seemed to know one another well, and shared many stories and inside jokes. Sylvestre turned out to be quite jovial, and his good nature paired well with Sten’s dry sense of humor. Yves was definitely the odd man of the group. He got along with the others, but it was clear that they were on a different level than him, both in size, and in the social structure of the pack. Even so, he definitely fit in better than Astrid.
Although she enjoyed listening to the males banter around the fire, she rarely spoke up unless directly addressed—which wasn’t often. Sylvestre ignored her completely. It didn’t seem malicious. On the contrary, he treated her like they both spoke different languages and wouldn’t understand one another if they tried. Yves, on the other hand, seemed to desperately want to talk to her, but every time he attempted to, Sten or Sylvestre redirected his attention. She found this to be annoying, but didn’t complain. Part of her was content to sit quietly on the sidelines, rather than speak and end up making a fool of herself in front of the three males.
She did wonder why it was easier for her to talk to Erik than the others. After considering this for several nights, she thought she had the answer. Almost from the moment they’d met, Erik had rejected her. Not her body, but her mind, her personality, the very part of her that made her, well, her. And Astrid was okay with that. With Erik, she could say whatever stupid or inane thing that popped into her head. She could rant or ramble as much as she pleased, because his opinion of her couldn’t get any lower. She didn’t have to try to impress him and she didn’t have to try to be the best version of herself. Astrid could just be Astrid, for better or worse.
Another thing she realized during their brief daily respites, was that she and Erik actually had something in common. In many ways, they were both outsiders. The few times that he’d lingered around the fire, Erik had never joined the other males in laughing and bantering. He and Sylvestre did not seem to share any inside jokes, and he never shared any embarrassing stories from Sten’s childhood. He was always a quiet, brooding figure; present, yet separate. Astrid wondered if this was by choice, or if he harbored some secret desire to socialize with the others. She wondered if maybe he was lonely, or if she was once again just trying to project humanity onto the cold alpha.
On the fifth day of their journey, the wolves stopped just after sunrise. Astrid climbed down from Erik’s back, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun on the snow. The terrain was comprised of low, sloping hills that offered little shelter from the wind.
“We’re stopping here?” she asked, her tone indicating that she wasn’t thrilled. “Are you going to make me sleep in a hole again?”
Erik didn’t respond. He was sniffing the air, his eyes focused on the hill ahead. Sten was the only one to shift, and as soon as he was in human form, he raised a finger to his lips and then tapped his ear.
Quiet and listen.
Astrid complied, and after a few seconds, she heard something other than the artic wind. In the distance, a sharp cry rang out, followed by a far-off, but unnerving roar. With a few shakes of his head, Erik issued nonverbal commands, mobilizing his wolves. He, Sylvestre, and Yves took off for the hill.
“I’m going with them,” Sten said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Keep quiet and wait for them to return.”
Astrid barely had time to nod before Sten was shifting again. The silver wolf darted off after his pack mates, leaving Astrid alone in the cold.
After they disappeared over the hill, she listened for a while. When she could hear nothing, she began pacing. Her anxiety started making up crazy scenarios that played out in her mind like a series of grim movies that she couldn’t pause or back out of. What if they were all killed, and she was left to face the tundra alone? What if whatever killed them came after her next?
She tried humming a tune to distract herself from the intrusive thoughts. When that didn’t work, she headed up the hill. The only way she was going to get over her anxiety was if she saw what was over there.
“You’re being stupid,” she said to herself as she neared the top. “It’s probably nothing. And if it is something, then it’s nothing they can’t handle...”
When she reached the top, Astrid immediately dropped to the ground, hiding herself as best she could. The scene in the valley below was unlike anything she’d imagined. The pristine snow was marred with the blood and entrails of no less than half a dozen wolf shifters. Three of the unfamiliar wolves were still alive, and they were surrounded by bears.
Astrid h
ad always considered polar bears to be the most beautiful members of the bear family. Though she wasn’t particularly fond of animals, she could recall getting choked up watching a global warming commercial that featured a male bear, struggling to keep himself up on melting ice. These polar bears were nothing like the ones she’d seen on television. They were larger and had long, protruding fangs. The fur around their mouths was stained red with blood and there were feral glints in their eyes as they circled the small band of wolves.
She arrived just in time to see Erik and the others approach. The bears noticed Erik first, as his black pelt contrasted with the white ground. Astrid watched, horrified, as Erik’s group began to flank the bears, drawing their attention away from the other wolves.
“What are you doing, you idiot?” she quietly hissed. “Get out of there, run!”
She didn’t dare speak loudly enough for Erik to actually hear her, but the words refused to stay inside. How the hell did he think he was going to take on four bears when they’d already killed six wolves without getting so much as scratched?
Each of the males picked a bear to shadow. Then, without any signal that she could discern, they charged at the bears. Sten, Sylvestre, and Yves stopped short of attacking, but Erik lunged at his, going right for its neck. Even with his considerable size, Erik was still much smaller than the bear. To her surprise, he didn’t try to take the bear on outright, instead he snapped at its neck, taking out a chunk of flesh before pulling back and narrowly avoiding the bear’s jaw.
Within seconds, Erik and his wolves had pulled back, spreading out to circle the bears at a distance once again. The strange, quasi-assault had served to break the formation of the bears. When the others had each gone after one of the bears, it had merely been a feint to distract them from collapsing on Erik, the real attacker.
Enslaved by the Alpha (Shifters of Nunavut Book 2) Page 12