Pride's Run

by Cat Kalen

  After we exchange ‘good-nights’ Logan holds the tent flaps open for me and I scurry inside. I leave my clothes on and struggle to keep my breathing steady as I climb between the sleeping bags. Pretending we’re a couple, Logan crawls in with me. I look at the powerful, big bad alpha moving in beside me and can’t help but think this is a dangerous game I’m playing.

  My pulse pounds hard as I snuggle deeper into my pillow and when Logan shifts closer I can feel heat and strength radiating from him as he offers me his warmth. My entire body reacts to his close proximity and I almost feel dizzy.

  I listen to Logan’s soft breathing and hear his throat work as he swallows and I get the distinct impression that he is struggling to keep his composure, a difficult task for an alpha like him, I’m sure.

  He puts an arm around me and when I turn into him, he pulls me in closer and I realize how nice it feels to be held by him. The earthy scent of his skin, so achingly familiar to me now, stirs my wolf and it takes all my effort not to let loose a distressed howl. My toes curl as my thoughts fragment.

  “This is much better than last night,” he says, and for the first time I hear something in his voice, something that makes me think he’s as nervous as I am. He sinks deeper into the blankets. “Softer, too.”

  Logan touches my arm, and when I stiffen, still not used to the softness of his touch, he pulls his hand back like he’s been burned. His glance flits over mine and I see a hint of uncertainty in his eyes before he rolls onto his back.

  As I watch him, it reminds me that beneath that big bad alpha Logan is just a boy, and inside this tent, as nature compels us to do what comes naturally between a boy and a girl, he’s just as uncertain as I am.

  He crooks his elbow and braces one arm under his head. As I watch him stare skyward, I wonder what he’s thinking.

  “You tired?” I ask evenly, even though everything about this boy is playing havoc with my senses and rattling what little calm I can seem to muster.

  “Yeah,” he says, his voice coming out a little rough around the edges. “You?” He takes a deep breath and when he wets his lips my gaze lingers on the streak of moisture and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be kissed by him.

  I bite back a breathy moan, suddenly terrified by what I’m feeling, and remember he’s waiting for an answer. “Exhausted,” I finally say.

  He angles his head to see me and when he gives me the softest smile I’ve ever seen I nearly melt into the sleeping bag.

  I think about the way he touched me tonight, the way he treated me like a girl, not an animal, and the way he made me feel proud and beautiful of myself just the way I am. I also think about the way he kissed my scars with the utmost care. A burst of heat rushes up my spine and I can feel my face flush hotly.

  Flustered and completely unsure of myself, I pull the blanket up higher to hide my body’s reactions. Logan turns into me and gathers a damp wayward strand of my hair between his fingers. He brings it to his nose and inhales.

  “You smell good.”

  When I swallow, he leans closer and I wonder what if he’s about to make a move on me. As his glance races over my face he wets his lips again and I wonder if I’m finally going to know what it’s like to be kissed.

  My eyes widen and my heart pounds as equal mixtures of nervousness and excitement pulse inside me. Logan inhales and I know he can taste my tension. I just hope he doesn’t mistake it for fear.

  My fingers tingle and I want to touch him, to draw his mouth to mine, but I can’t seem to move. It feels as if the connection between my brain and body has been completely disengaged and I’m left paralyzed—a perilous state for a wolf on the run to find herself in, especially one who is running with an alpha who holds secrets.

  He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, and my blood is pounding so hard in my ears I wonder if I’ll be able hear him. When apprehension invades my stomach, dark, tortured emotions pass over his eyes and his nostrils flare.

  A strange sense of disappointment runs through me when he rolls back over. I watch his chest rise and fall as he sucks in a ragged breath and I get the sense that he’s fighting some sort of internal battle.

  “Try to get some sleep, Pride,” he says in a rusty voice full of torment. “I want to cover a lot of ground tomorrow.”

  As a barrage of emotions roll off his body, he looks skyward again and my chest tightens so hard it’s almost impossible to breathe.

  Logan closes his eyes and suddenly all I want to do is climb from the tent and lose myself in the woods. My wolf cries, wanting to run, wanting to get as far away from Logan as possible. Everything about him rattles me, disarms me in a way that leaves me vulnerable.

  Instead of bolting, I slam my lids shut and force myself to relax. I take a long time to sort things through then come to the realization that his retreat was for the best. I have a mission to concentrate on and don’t need such complications.

  I let my thoughts drift to the compound, and take that moment to berate myself for my behavior. People are being abused at the hands of a cruel man while I lay here in comfort and feel sorry for myself.

  Disgusted by my selfishness, I push all thoughts of Logan aside and try to relax, knowing that in the upcoming days I’ll need my strength.

  Moments before I’m about to drift off a scent has my lids springing open. My blood rushes fast as my senses sort through the information. The second my brain deciphers exactly who the smell belongs to my heart begins to gallop. I breathe deep, but know I have to be wrong.

  I just have to be.

  I take a quick glance at Logan, who is sleeping restlessly beside me, then quietly crawl out of my covers. I peel the zipper open and pull the night air into my lungs.

  A cry chokes in my throat as a queasy feeling blooms in my stomach. I swallow hard and moving with stealth I silently slip out of the tent. Climbing to my feet, I stand there for a moment and fight down a howl as I breathe in a scent that has my heart aching.

  With emotions getting the better of me and before I have a chance to consider the consequences of my actions, I dart through the trees, my glance cutting from left to right as I peer into the dark night in search of my father.

  But how can this be? How can my father still be alive?

  I follow his scent until it grows stronger. My nose begins to tingle and when my eyes water I know he is close. So close.

  I push a branch out of my way and take a step into the clearing. When I see a piece of cloth on the ground, one that holds my father’s distinctive scent, my heart nearly stops. I take another small step and that’s when my instincts react to danger a split second before my brain catches up.

  But before I can leap a wire tightens around my ankle and lifts me clear off the ground. I struggle but the sharp wire snaps tight and my breath is torn from my lungs as I fly through the air. Dangling upside down, my back smacks against the tree trunk and the sound echoes around me. I bend at the waist and fight to loosen the restraint. Except the more I squirm the tighter it pulls.

  As my mind races I think about shifting, but will the wire tear through the bone and sever my leg? I bite back a wounded cry, not wanting the hunters to know I’ve been snared in their trap, but the rustling in the woods warns it’s too late.

  Panicked, I’m about to shift and take my chances with the wire, but when I hear, “Pride, don’t,” I dart a glance to my left in time to see Stone step from the darkness.

  My heart slides into my throat and there is nothing I can do to keep the howl in my lungs.

  “Shh,” he warns, speaking telepathically as he angles his head unnaturally, listening for something. Before I realize what he’s doing, he pulls a knife from his pocket and walks toward me.

  “Back off,” I warn between gritted teeth, and despite the wire chewing into my leg I try to swing my body. If I can reach the tree, maybe I can climb up.

  As the coppery scent of my blood fills the air, Stone’s nostrils flare and he says, “If you want me t
o get you down you need to stay quiet and still.”

  “You sure you want to do that?” I challenge.

  He cuts me a careful glance, and his voice lacks the hard bite I’m accustomed to when he says, “Pride, please, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Fine, I guess that will just make it easier for me to kill you then.”

  In that instant I see something in his expression, something dark and troubled. Something that instantly tells me there is more going on than I know.

  His head lifts and he sniffs the air like a true predator, then shoots another glance around. His voice is low, conspiratorial when he says, “Pride, you need to listen to me.”

  With impatience thrumming through me, I touch his thoughts. His eyes harden as I move past the chaos. As his tortured visions flood me, I gulp air. Once again I’m bombarded with numbers and hear a gun shot—has he had some fight that I have no knowledge of?

  What is it I’m not grasping?

  I try to puzzle it out, but when the chaos parts way and I see an image of me in my mating dress, rage races through me and I extricate myself from his mind.

  “I’ll never be your mate.”

  He gives a hard shake of his head and his voice is grave when he says, “Pride, you don’t under-”

  Before he can finish the sentence, Logan comes tearing into the clearing. Running at breakneck speed, he leaps through the air and lands on top of Stone with a hard thud, his four paws digging into flesh and pinning his opponent to the ground.

  Without missing a beat, Stone drives his fist into Logan’s throat. Logan lets out a deep guttural sound then lunges for Stone’s neck. But Stone gains the advantage over the other wolf, using that moment of distraction to roll out from underneath him. In two seconds flat, Stone tears his clothes from his body and shifts.

  From my aerial position I watch them. Alpha pitted against alpha. They begin circling each other, both sizing up the enemy and looking for a weakness in the other that might give an advantage. When frothing mouths and deadly incisors flash beneath the overhead moon, I realize that only one wolf is going to walk away from here with me tonight.

  Blood rushes through my veins and I struggle harder, determined to break myself free. If I don’t stop the fight, I might never know what Stone is keeping from me.

  Pain races up my leg, the wire digging tighter as I swing myself toward the tree. Nausea wells up inside me but I ignore it. I push harder and grasp the tree trunk, but only manage to tear my nails clear from my fingertips as I try to hang on.

  Panicked, I watch the wolves fight each other, a tumbling mess of fur and claws as they roll around on the hard ground.

  Logan gains purchase and begins mauling Stone. The sound of cartilage popping and bones crunching echoes in the dark. Frothy saliva drips from Logan’s mouth and as his fangs slice through flesh, ripping skin from body, the fresh scent of blood fans out in the night. Yelping sounds reach my ears, and I know I have to do something.

  I begin to call on my wolf, but the second I do, gunshots ring out in the night. Hunters!

  Survival instincts kicking in, the wolves separate, and Logan moves toward me in a protective manner. Stone’s glance goes from Logan, to me, and when he penetrates my barriers and briefly touches my mind I get the strangest sense that he hadn’t come here to harm me.

  He tears his glance away and stares at Logan. A moment of uncertainty dances in his pewter eyes, then he glances at the sharp blade on the ground beneath me.

  Logan places his paw over it and snarls. As his growl mingles with the approaching voices, Stone takes off and all I see is the swish of his tail as he darts into the forest.

  Logan shifts back to human and grabs the knife. Within seconds he slices through the wire to release the trap. I drop but he catches me before I hit the ground.

  He deposits me in front of him and looks me over quickly. “We need to get out of here. Can you run?”

  I nod and when I hear hunters closing in, I understand how much danger I’ve put us in. I work to disassociate myself from the pain in my ankle as we dart into the woods. Logan races to his pile of clothes, pulls them on and we run long and hard until we reach our campsite.

  Logan points to the tent. “Go shift and heal your leg.” He grabs one of the backpacks and starts filling it with supplies.

  With a sense of urgency racing through me, I peer into the dark and lower my voice wanting to explain, to apologize. “Logan—”

  He stops me with a firm shake of his head and I realize that he has every right to be angry with me. “Not right now, Pride,” he says, and that’s when I realize it’s not anger I’m sensing. It’s disappointment. “Just go.”

  As the sharpness in his voice cuts me, I slip into the tent and remove my clothes. I call on my wolf to mend my wounds and once I’m healed, I pull my clothes back on and step outside to find Logan waiting for me. He breaks down the small tent and attaches it to the pack.

  Once finished, we sneak away, and lose ourselves in the woods. We run long and hard until we’re unable to run any longer. It’s only after we’ve put a great deal of distance between us and the hunters that Logan drops the pack.

  Both lost in our own thoughts, we remain silent as we set up the small tent. Once complete, we climb in and collapse under the stress of the night.

  A few hours later, after a very fitful sleep, my lids spring open. I can hear birds chirping and I’m grateful that early morning is upon me. Logan stirs beside me, his body brushing mine. My pulse pounds hard in my neck when I think about how much danger I put him in last night. I also think that if it hadn’t been for him, I could very well be on my way back to the compound, or worse, dead.

  I think about my father’s scent, think about how I reacted without thinking. I press the heels of my hands to my eyes and shake my head.

  If there is one thing I’ve learned these past seventeen years it’s that I need to think with my head not my heart. The latter will only end up getting me killed.

  I remain quiet and think more about my father. Who set that trap with his scent? Stone? The PTF? Trackers? But more importantly, the master killed him years ago, so how did they have material with his scent on it?

  Unless…

  No. I have to be wrong. The master killed him. He told us so. Then again it’s not like I can believe anything he says. My stomach clenches at the direction of my thoughts, and I force myself to think of something else. My father can’t be alive. He just can’t be. Because if he was, wouldn’t he have tried to free me?

  Not wanting to think about that any longer, my thoughts drift to Logan as I let him sleep a little longer. So much has changed over a few short days, yet I still know so very little about him. What is it about him that has my master so enraged? Is it simply because he is a tracker who broke free, or is it something else? My mind races with all the questions I still want to ask. It also races with the questions I want to ask Stone.

  His soft whisper startles me. “You’re awake.”

  It’s a statement not a question.

  “You are, too,” I say lowering my voice to match his.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “You.”

  The blankets rustle and his scent fills the tent as he leans toward me. He looks sleepy and rumpled and when his brow knits together with genuine worry, I pull my blankets tighter around me.

  He touches my arm. “What happened to you last night, Pride? Why did you run away from me?”

  “I caught my father’s scent.”

  “But I thought you said your father—”

  “I know. It was a trap. I reacted with my heart, not my head. It was stupid of me.”

  “It wasn’t stupid,” he says softly. “Sometimes we need to fight with our hearts. It can give us an edge.”

  I look at him and wonder if he’s speaking from experience. But last night he fought with his intellect, not his heart, right?

  I smooth my mussed hair off my face and think about his abilities. “I
f it wasn’t for you and your skills…” I let my words fall off, hating to think what could have happened if he hadn’t showed up.

  His grins and I can tell he’s trying to lighten my mood when he says, “It’s all in the name.”

  I angle my head, needing to know more about him, needing to know more about this boy who understands so much. I think back to our initial meeting. “Exactly how you were able to remove the microchip?”

  “In my old life I went to school. I learned a thing or two.”

  I stare at him. “You went to school?” My pulse leaps a bit and I can’t help but feel envious of this boy who knows what it’s like to lead a normal life. Well, as normal as can be for a wolf.

  He grimaces. “Don’t look so impressed. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

  I go silent for a while and try not to think about the ache in my joints. But as the moon beckons me—one more day until it’s full—I think about the campers, how nice they all were to us and how I could never live with myself if anything happened to them.

  Drawn by a force I can’t identify, I slide closer to Logan, and in a protective move he wraps his arm around me and pulls me close. As I lay there packaged in his strong arms, I suddenly feel like I’m on a roller coaster ride. My muscles tense and I force myself to relax.

  He inches back. “Pride?” he asks quietly as his eyes search my face.

  I blink rapidly. “Yes.”

  He looks me over. “What else is going on inside that head of yours?”

  When I don’t readily answer, he props his elbow up and rests his head in his hand. “Tell me.”

  After a long pause I finally say, “The full moon.”

  “What about it?”

  I lower my eyes. “I can’t control her.” I turn to him and press my hand over my stomach. “Can you control your wolf?”

  He nods.