“You bitch,” he said quietly. His eyes, already hard, began to glow and I took a giant step back. Maybe I was seeing things. Maybe the crazy had come full circle and bled into hallucinations. But something about the glow in his eyes reminded me a lot of Bernard just before he’d lunged for Alex’s throat.
No way. Just because I was aware that werewolves existed did not mean everyone I knew was a supernatural creature.
“I think it’s time for you to go,” I said.
Mason leaned in and I shuffled back, panic making it hard to move my feet smoothly.
The fear bubbled up in my throat and my lips parted on what I hoped would be a scream that would bring someone running. But I couldn’t force it out. Instead, fur exploded in my open palms, blowing off into the plant beds and the fountain we’d passed a moment ago. Over and over, they sprang from nowhere. I tried closing my palms but it was no use. Another all of fur would just force it open again.
Mason’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but no sound come. He stared at me, his eyes fierce and burning hot until I had to look away when his eyes glowed too bright. His feet shook and then his legs and by the time I looked up again, his entire body shimmered around the edges.
He winced, squeezing his eyes shut and doubling over as if in pain.
“Mason?” I asked.
He didn’t answer as he curled in on himself, his clothes stretching and stretching on his suddenly morphing body. The fabric along his back split first. Then his thighs and his shoulders and finally his feet. No, this was not happening again.
I backed away but not before he transformed right before my eyes.
Four paws sprang from his limbs and landed on the sidewalk. Lots of gray fur. And those eyes as he looked up at me, narrowed and intent on its prey. Mason Harding was a werewolf.
“Holy shit,” I breathed. It was possible everyone I knew was a supernatural creature after all.
Maybe Mason wasn’t evil. Maybe he was friendly.
“Hey, Mason,” I said, going for friendly.
He snarled and started toward me. Shit, maybe not.
I got a couple of steps and stumbled, every possible nightmarish and irrational fear blending into this moment. Not just Mason. Dogs, wolves, predators, men, darkness—all of it was coming for me.
I righted myself and ran across the grass, cutting toward the far exit of the park that came out on the busier part of town. Witnesses. Maybe if I could find other people to see us, he’d stop chasing me.
Behind me, Mason growled and snapped his teeth, barely missing me as I jerked sideways at the last second.
When he came again, I screamed—at least, I assumed the sound belonged to me from the rawness in my throat that followed. My foot caught on a hard patch of grass and I almost went down. And still, Mason was coming. Not too fast, not too slow. He knew his prey was already caught; why rush?
My breath turned to a gasp as he closed the last of the distance. One long stride for every three of my hurried backward steps. My ass hit the grass at the same moment I felt sharp teeth penetrate the fabric of my shirt.
Mason yanked and I felt my momentum being overtaken. I was hurtling closer to his open jaw rather than away. Fur rained from my hands. I ignored it and instead leaned into the momentum, sinking my nails into Mason’s wolf eyes until I felt the squish of soft tissue.
Mason howled and released me.
I scrambled to my feet, turned to run, and slammed into a solid chest.
“Please!” I shrieked, struggling.
Alex’s hands caught my elbows and steadied me, spinning me around so that he was in front of me, blocking Mason who snarled at us both with one eye squinted shut.
“Get to the trees,” Alex said. Calm and steady. Like an electric fence. All the power was under the surface.
I spotted a silver stake in his hand, his grip casual. Like he’d held it a thousand times. Wielded it. Killed with it. I was positive he had.
Mason whined at the edge of the grass, one if his eyes bloodshot and leaking yellow fluid onto his snout, but when Alex advanced, it turned to a growl.
“Alex, that’s Mason,” I said, hesitating painfully as Alex stalked toward the massive gray wolf.
“And that means what to me?” Alex shot back without turning.
Concern and fear were competing halves. “He … was my friend,” I said and then, because I’d done enough for something that was currently trying to kill me, I took Alex’s initial advice and ran for the trees.
I hadn’t gone far when a growl erupted behind me. A second one competed with the first and something about Alex’s guttural battle cry was even scarier than Mason’s growls. I didn’t turn. I ran, imagining those teeth aimed at my flesh.
Panic took over, moving my legs faster. My breath was gone. I wasn’t sure how much longer I would last. The trees were a wall of shadows ahead. My legs pumped, the muscles burning, but the sound of them never dimmed.
Suddenly, something snagged me pants and I went down—hard.
My head hit first along with my back, knocking the wind out of me. My vision swam. A furry face loomed over me, teeth bared, eyes aglow. I flinched back, but there was nowhere to go. Mason’s jaw descended.
An inch from my throat, Mason was yanked back. He yelped loudly and I couldn’t even bring myself to summon concern for him as Alex stuck him with the stake in the hollow space between his hip and leg.
Another yelp.
Mason lurched sideways, limping out of reach. He hesitated another moment as if deciding whether or not to try again and then took off at an awkward lope in the opposite direction.
Alex watched him go and then dropped the stake and sank down beside me on the damp grass. His hands came out to hover around me without actually making contact.
“Shit, Sam. I’m sorry, I—Dammit. Are you okay?” His eyes, almost black in the darkness, swept over me. Assessing and inspecting. Practically wringing his hands as he checked me over.
I tried sitting up but he pressed my shoulders back. “Don’t move until we know if you’re hurt. Are you … did he bite you?”
“No,” I said, silently taking stock. The only pain I felt radiated from my ankle. The one that had twisted as I went down. The same one Bernard had nicked with his claw last week. It hadn’t slowed me down before but now…
Gingerly, I tried moving it and winced.
“What is it?” Alex asked, instantly on high alert.
“My ankle.” I sighed and let my head fall back to the grass. “I think it’s sprained.”
“Is that it?” he asked.
“I think so. Help me sit up?”
I thought he was going to refuse but he nodded and grabbed my shoulders, helping me sit. I breathed out in relief, and then in again, relishing the fact that I could. Alex presence helped ground me. I was here. Alive. We both were. And Mason—
“Did you kill him?” I asked quietly.
“No, but it’ll take a few days for him to heal. The wound was shallow but it was coated in metal so he won’t be back anytime soon.” He didn’t look at me as he spoke, like he’d known it mattered.
I nodded. Although I had no idea what he meant about the metal. I couldn’t bring myself to ask about that right now. Mason wasn’t dead. Neither was Alex. Neither was I. It was okay.
Bernard on the other hand…
“Alex…” I had too many questions. And the scent of him. The closeness as he hovered, trying to examine my ankle. Mason’s face as he’d glared and then changed. Burying Bernard. It was all just too much.
Tears welled and I couldn’t hold them back. Silently, they made tracks down my cheeks. Alex reached out and caught one with his finger. Our eyes met and he stared back at me with a depth of sadness and understanding that shocked me. “I know,” he said quietly. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
He slid a hand under my legs and scooped me up before I knew what was happening.
“You don’t have to—�
�� I began in protest but Alex held me closer, his nose brushing my cheek.
“I do.” The raw emotion in his voice silenced me.
Suddenly, this was more than just a friend helping with a sprained ankle. It was more than a brush with death. Except I didn’t know what the “more” was.
“You scared me when you left with him,” Alex said quietly as he walked us toward the parking lot.
Scared. Not jealous. I sighed at my own idiocy.
“You knew what he was,” I said.
He didn’t answer but I felt the truth in the set of his shoulders, the rigidity of his jaw. I reached up and ran a finger along his chin and felt him relax—then tense in another way.
My breath caught. Different kinds of panic laced through me. Exhilaration then longing hit me and I dropped my hand, stunned.
Alex stopped walking. “What is it?” he asked and I knew he wanted me to say it. To name the feeling that we were both caught up in. Because he was clearly lying about not feeling anything for me. But I couldn’t. Not yet. The fact that I could feel it at all was its own miracle. And tonight, that’s all I had room for.
“Thank you,” I said instead. “For saving me. For being here. For helping me figure all this out. I promise not to walk out on you like that anymore.” And it was just as good. I watched as his eyes lit with understanding and forgiveness. “But no more bodies, okay?”
He nodded. “Thank you, Sam.”
“For what?”
He shook his head, dismissing it, but there was something new that hadn’t been there before.
Hope. Strange that my words had incited something so big but I couldn’t deny that’s what it was. His steps were lighter now. His expression more open. I hadn’t even realized it had been missing before but now that it was here, I knew I’d do anything to keep it. A hopeless Alex was desolate. This version of him was so much warmer.
Chapter Twenty Five
Alex
This girl was going to be the fucking death of me. Had she felt me shaking when I carried her to the truck? Had she felt my heart racing? My breaths coming in short gasps?
Fuck me. I was exhausted. I had wanted more than anything to kill Mason the moment I saw him attacking Sam. Scratch that. The moment he’d walked into the store. When she’d smiled at him, I’d almost staked him in the fucking throat right then. I told myself letting him go was for her. So she wouldn’t have to watch another friend die, but the reality was that I hadn’t been sure I could find the strength to take him on.
Not while I was worrying about her.
She didn’t speak on the drive to my house, not even to ask where we were going. That’s how I knew she was shaken. No arguing, no million questions. Just silence.
I pulled into the driveway and scanned the house for signs of life. No lights. No awareness inside me of another hunter close by. I felt the sag of relief as I realized we had the place to ourselves. RJ was probably at work.
Sam didn’t move as I cut the engine and got out. Fine by me. With that ankle—and my own worry—I wasn’t planning on letting her walk.
I opened her door and then paused, not wanting to scare her any more than she already was. Her head jerked up and she stared at me with wide, rounded eyes. Those eyes held a lot of things buried behind them.
“We’re at your house,” she said like it was both a question and an answer.
I nodded. “I’m going to carry you inside, all right?”
She didn’t answer. Or argue.
I scooped her up and shoved aside my own aches and pains, carrying her easily up the steps and into the house. I went straight up to my room without bothering to turn lights on. I knew the way well enough by now.
I carried her into my room and stopped, torn. She probably wanted a shower, with all the dirt and grass coating her clothes and skin. Then I thought about how that would go—me helping her in the shower.
Nope.
I carried her to the bed instead. Only slightly better.
Not really.
I set her down gently without bothering to pull the blankets down. She didn’t move to get up or lie down. I sat stiffly a foot away, heart pounding for a different reason. Moonlight from the exposed window filtered in, illuminating her dark hair and lighting her hazel eyes, round with shock and fear, until they almost glowed back at me.
Her full lips parted as she looked around the shadowed room, taking in the simple furniture. And probably the lack of cleaning on my part.
“It smells like you,” she said finally.
“What?” I blinked, forcing myself to focus instead of staring all dreamy-eyed at her hair. God, I loved her hair.
“The room. It smells like you.”
I smirked, entertained. Out of all the things I expected her to talk about, my smell was not it. “And what smell is that?”
She shrugged. “Dirt. Pine. Man.” Her cheeks flushed like she hadn’t meant to say the last part. But then it all dissolved into frustration as her brows crinkled tight and she stared at her hands. “It’s very familiar,” she said quietly.
Damn.
I got up and went to the window, pulling the curtain closed, and then busied myself looking through my duffle stowed at the foot of the bed.
“Here.” I found what I was looking for and tossed it over.
“What’s this?” she asked, unfolding it and holding it up.
“A shirt. For you to sleep in.”
“Why was it under your bed?” she asked.
“I keep my bag packed so I can move quickly if I need to,” I said.
She cocked her head at me, her dark hair spilling over the side of her face. My groin tightened at the sight of her sitting in my bed, looking at me like that. “You never unpack?” she asked. “Anywhere?”
“What’s the point?” I said, more roughly than I’d meant to.
She blinked and leaned away, as if trying to distance herself from my comment. I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. “Look, if you want a shower, bathroom’s there,” I said, pointing. “Towels are in the closet.”
I started for the door and she stopped me. “Where are you going?” The fear in her voice had me turning around.
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” I said.
She bit her lip and I stifled a groan. Just how fucking sexy was one person allowed to be anyway? “I don’t… Can you… stay with me?” she asked quietly.
Fear had her drawing in on herself. She was afraid of being alone but more than that, I got the feeling she was afraid I would say no and leave her anyway. I should have. For so many reasons, I should have turned and walked out the door and down the stairs. Hell, I should have just kept walking where Sam was concerned. But I couldn’t. I didn’t.
Instead, I returned to the bed, this time coming to sit on the opposite side, and stretching my legs out long over the blanket. I kicked my boots off and crossed my feet at the ankles before leaning back against the headboard, my shoulders propped against the pillows.
Sam shocked the hell out of me by crawling over and curling against my chest. For a second, I didn’t move or breathe. Then, slowly, my arm curled around her shoulders and I found my fingers tangled in her hair. I’d wanted to touch that hair since the moment I’d walked in on her at Oracle. Soft and silky and thick, it went on forever in my hand.
I sighed and even though I knew what I was doing would be a huge mistake in the end, I relaxed. She felt good against me. She felt fucking perfect.
“Where did you go after your parents died?” she asked, startling me so much that I felt my body jerk. “Sorry,” she said.
“I thought you were asleep,” I explained. My hand dropped her hair.
“You don’t have to stop that,” she said quietly.
Against my better judgment, I drove my hand back into her hair, smoothing it out while I collected my thoughts.
She didn’t interrupt, and I knew she was waiting on me to answer her question. But I hesitated. This was not safe territory. In fact, there were ve
ry few people on the planet I talked to about this. And even then, no one really knew the full truth. But something about the way she asked, like she needed a pain to relate to, drew the answers out of me.
“They didn’t just die. They were killed. By werewolves. I was young when it happened so I went to stay with a hunter friend of my dad’s for a while. Then, when I was old enough, I went to boarding school.”
“That sounds lonely,” she said.
My shoulder lifted briefly. “It really wasn’t. I made a lot of friends there. Boarding school is the norm for hunters in high school. So we can train in an immersive environment. It also meant that I wasn’t the weirdo or orphan kid any more. Since everyone lived there, it meant we were all the same again.”
“Is that what they called you?” she asked. “Orphan kid?”
“A few kids,” I told her, but the memory was faded enough that it didn’t bother me to admit. Besides, this was a much safer topic to discuss than my parents. “But then I kicked their asses in Defensive Maneuvers and they left me alone.”
She giggled and I felt a strange opening in my chest at the sound of her laughter. I’d done that. And I suddenly, desperately, wanted to be the one to do it again. Holy hell, I was in trouble.
“Do you think Mason will try to hurt me again?” she asked and my hands balled into fists at the fear in her voice. At how badly I wanted to end the thing that put it there.
“He won’t touch you,” I promised.
“I don’t understand why he…” She trailed off and a second later, she sniffled. Yep, I was definitely going to kill that bastard one day.
I pulled her closer against me, stroking her hair as she cried softly. I waited, wishing I could do more. Wishing I wasn’t dying and that my body would work right when it came to killing things.
She sniffled once more and snuggled in closer, burying her face in my neck. I hated that I loved it.
“He was right,” she said finally, her voice muffled.
“About what?” I asked although I had a hard time believing that prick could be right about anything.
Remembrance: (New Adult Paranormal Romance) (Heart Lines Series Book 1) Page 15