by Bethany Shaw
Sarah looked up at him with her jaw set and eyes narrowed. “My parents wanted to make sure we knew what to do if we ever got lost in the wilderness while out hunting,” she responded annoyed.
“So, they taught you how to take care of yourself because they cared about you,” he stated. That must have been nice. His own father taught him lots of lessons, only Emmett’s teaching had involved a beating or verbal abuse if he got it wrong.
Sarah shrugged, looking away from him. She crossed her arms over her chest and let out an irritated sigh.
Vincent adjusted the rabbits over the fire as he studied her. Before Preston’s death, she had been warm, friendly, and talkative. Now, she was standoffish—almost downright cold. He understood what she was trying to do all too well. Sarah was keeping him at arm’s length for fear of getting hurt again. He wanted to comfort her and assure her that everything would be okay, but he’d never done that type of thing before. His knowledge of women was limited to hasty one-week relationships or one-night stands. He didn’t have the first idea how to befriend one.
Sarah pursed her lips. “I was thinking we should keep heading in the general direction we’ve been walking. New Mexico has a few national parks. If I’m remembering correctly, there is one close to where we are. I think we’re heading in the right direction. We could stop by there and pick up supplies, maybe get a stash of food before we figure out how to get back home.”
“Once we make our way out of the woods, we should stay out of them. The Lunas probably still have a substantial amount of men out there searching for us. They are in their element in the forest. Werewolves thrive in nature. We’ll have to find a way to get a car.”
“How? We don’t have any money.”
Vincent chuckled. “How did you expect to get home?”
Sarah frowned. “I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t really thought it all the way through. I mean, we could ask people for help—maybe.”
Vincent stood up and dug into his jean pocket, pulling out his brown leather wallet. He shoved the wallet back into his pocket and resumed his perch on the log. “It won’t have to come to that. Rabbits are done and they look good, too. I think I’m going to have to make a rabbit stew when we get back home.”
Sarah scrunched up her face in disgust.
“Not a fan?” Vincent asked, carefully removing their feast and placing it on a large piece of bark.
Sarah took the piece of meat he offered. “I’m not really a fan of rabbit.”
“But it tastes like chicken,” he argued.
“Not a fan of that either.”
“Oh come on, who doesn’t like chicken?” he asked, causing her to laugh. Her giggle was melodic and her sapphire eyes twinkled.
“I haven’t liked it ever since I got sick one year after we went out to eat at a restaurant. I threw up for two days. My mom...” she trailed off and looked away. The smile slipped away from her face as the stoic, impassive face she’d been walking around with lately replaced it. “I just don’t like it.”
“You know you can talk to me, right?”
Sarah scoffed and took a large bite out of the rabbit.
“I’m serious. I know things have been hard lately and I know what you’re doing,” he started, earning himself a glare from the blonde. “Look all I’m trying to say is...” he paused, what am I trying to say? He understood her, but he didn’t know how to make it better. He couldn’t even make himself better. “Just don’t shut yourself down, Sarah.”
“Like you’re one to talk. Don’t lecture me about shutting down. I see what you do. Bouncing from one woman to the next like they’re some sort of prize to win. Then when you’re done with them you shove them away before you can develop any feelings whatsoever for them. So, don’t try to tell me-”
“I’m not trying to lecture...I want to help you.”
“I don’t want it,” she shot back through gritted teeth. “Help yourself first.”
Vincent swallowed. “I have issues too, okay? But this thing you’re doing—where you won’t talk about your parents or Rick or Preston—it’s not going to make it better.”
“Because sleeping with a different girl every night is going to make your problems go away?” She set her food on the ground and shot to her feet. “Excuse me.” Sarah glowered at him for a long moment before stomping into the trees.
Vincent sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut.
***
Sarah led the way through the brush, using the sun as her compass. Another long day of hiking through the woods. At least they were no longer being chased. The first two days had been rough. Every time they’d stopped to catch their breath, a wolf sprung at them. She would take the reprieve even if things were tense between her and Vincent. He had been silent the entire day; neither of them had spoken since their fight last night.
It infuriated her that Vincent was right. He had been nothing but kind to her and she’d been a bitch. With everything that was happening, she couldn’t bring herself to open up to anyone else. If she didn’t let anyone in, she couldn’t be hurt when they died. And everyone seemed to be dying around her. In fact, she’d probably be doing him a favor if she did push him away. But it wasn’t fair to keep being so cold either. They were in an impossible situation and he was attempting to make the best of it.
“Hey,” Vincent reached out and grabbed her elbow.
Sarah froze, turning to face him. Her heart skipped a beat as he walked in front of her.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“I smell something.”
“What?”
Vincent turned back to face her, a lopsided grin on his face. “Mothballs.”
“What?” she asked confused. Is he losing it?
“This way.” He motioned for her to follow him. Shaking her head, Sarah walked behind him as he led her up a ridge. She climbed up behind him, her eyes inadvertently drifting to his taut back and glut muscles as he pulled himself up the cliff. “I knew it,” he declared triumphantly. He turned and crouched down, offering his arm to her.
“What?” she asked for the zillionth time. Please tell me he didn’t see me staring at him. She took his forearm and he effortlessly eased her up. Their eyes met for a second and her breath caught in her chest. His full lips were quirked up in a grin and his emerald eyes shone with amusement.
“Mothballs,” he said excitedly, moving out of her way and pointing to a tiny wood structure.
It was a shack—if you could even call it that. The building was maybe a few hundred square feet.
“Let’s go check it out,” Vincent beamed, already striding quickly toward the wooden cabin.
She rushed to keep up with him, following up the rickety, creaking wooden steps. Vincent shoved the door open and she gasped as the scent of mothballs hit her hard.
“Ugh.” She lifted her arm, placing her nose in the crook of her elbow.
“You think you have it bad. My sense of smell is ten times better than yours. How do you think I feel?” Vincent teased as he walked inside, making a show of squeezing his nose.
Sarah followed him. The house, more like room, wasn’t much. It was a bedroom, kitchen, and washroom all in one. The bed was tiny. The only way they’d both fit would be if they cuddled. But at least there was a fireplace to keep warm and a washbasin to clean up a little. It was cozy, but at least it was shelter.
“At least we won’t have to worry about creeping critters. If I can’t stand the smell I’m sure they can’t either,” Vincent replied as he walked to the lone window in the shack and lifted it up. “This place is going to have to air out if I’m going to spend any length of time in here.”
“We could camp here for a night or two. We might actually get a chance to get some solid rest. Good find,” she said relieved to have a real bed to sleep in.
“Werewolf nose, baby.”
“Must be nice,” she snorted, laughed.
“It does have its perks. Although, not so mu
ch with bad smells.” He turned around taking in the room. He strode to the counter and opened a drawer, pulling out several boxes of mothballs. “You think we have to worry about campers or owners?”
Sarah walked to the front door and peered outside. “It’s too early in the season for hunting, and I’m fairly sure this is a private hunting cabin. A camper’s park would have a main road for visitors to find the place. You need a 4x4 to get back here. I don’t even see any signs of a real road.”
“So we should be safe?” Vincent asked.
“From the hunter, probably. From crazy werewolves, let’s just hope so.”
***
Vincent strolled back up to the cabin with three squirrels and a bag of berries in tow. After hunting and shifting, he was feeling refreshed. And the heavenly smell of the fall leaves mixed with the fire Sarah had started in the fireplace only added to his good mood. It reminded him of home. At the end of every fall, they had a large bonfire to celebrate the end of hunting season. It was an all day event and he enjoyed the smell of a rustic fire.
He opened the door and froze; his mouth popped open with surprise. Surely he wasn’t seeing this. He swallowed thickly and blinked. The vision was still there. Sarah’s long, tan legs greeted him. She was wearing a red and black flannel shirt. The blonde had yet to notice him and he gulped as she stood on her tippy toes and shoved something into the top cupboard. The shirt rode up and he could see the lace of her black panties. Vincent closed his eyes and let out a long, silent breath. Get a grip.
“Hey,” he greeted, strolling in.
“Oh,” she squeaked, twirling around, her damp, blonde hair falling in her face from the sudden movement.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear. Red crept across her face and she tugged at the bottom of the flannel shirt in an attempt to cover herself. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I was hoping my pants would be dry, but they’re still pretty soaked.”
“Well, you can’t wear wet pants.” And he wasn’t going to complain because he was enjoying the view. Sarah continued to shift her feet awkwardly. She’s probably embarrassed. “I got squirrel.” He held up his catch for the evening, hoping that would help ease her worries.
Her eyes met his. “Thanks.”
She walked to the stove, two oven mitts covering her hands. She lifted a steaming pot of water from the fire and dumped it into the small washbasin, filling the empty tub nearly halfway. “I boiled some water for you if you want to get cleaned up. It’s not as good as a shower, but it’s better than nothing. I wasn’t sure when you’d be back, so I left it on the fire. You’ll probably have to wait a few for it to cool down now,” she explained. She set the pot down and looked around the tiny cabin as her fingers rolled the edge of her sleeves inward.
“I’ll clean up after dinner,” he responded, going to the fire and getting the squirrel ready to cook. She might be trying to hide who she was, but pieces of her still radiated through. Her kind nature was an innate part of who she was. “I could have gotten my own water. I’m sure it’s a lot of work.”
“It wasn’t bad. The river is only about thirty feet off the back of the shack and there is a wheelbarrow to help with the weight. I washed up and then did my clothes.” She pointed to her black tank and camo pants strung up by the fire. “I can do yours, too. I found these.” She yanked on the bottom of her shirt again. Then pointed to a pair of matching pajama pants lying on the bed. She walked to the counter and picked up a pile of silver packets. “I also found these. I figured we could take a few with us, just in case.”
“What are those?” he asked.
“MREs. Readymade meals. They’ll do in a pinch.”
“They sound awful.”
“They are. But we should have some in case we can’t find food again,” she said. She looked around the room before her eyes landed back on him. “I found some extra blankets and soap to wash up with. There really isn’t much else.”
“Well at least we’ll be warm and clean while eating on the run,” Vincent teased. He finished adjusting the meat over the fire and looked around the quaint quarters.
“I figure we can stay here a few days. Get some rest. Let our injuries—well, my cuts and bruises—heal a little,” Sarah said, brushing her fingers over a cut on her forehead.
“It seems safe enough,” he agreed. “How are you feeling?” he asked, realizing that he hadn’t checked up on her in a while. He had accelerated healing—even more so after a shift, but she did not. Sarah had more cuts and bruises than he could count. Her legs were covered in purple and blue splotches and he cursed under his breath for not taking better care of her. I can’t let her get hurt anymore. No more falling down embankments. I need to pay better attention.
“I’ll be all right. At least we have a bed and can get a good night’s sleep. Well, better than sleeping on the ground anyway.”
Vincent’s gaze drifted to the bed. They could both fit; it was a full-size mattress and the only piece of furniture to sit on inside the house.
Sarah followed his line of sight. “I’ve been thinking about that,” she stated quietly. “We could share. Neither of us have had a full night’s sleep in a while. If we’re going to regain our strength, then we need to rest.”
“Are you sure?” His voice cracked and Sarah narrowed her eyes.
“We are both adults,” she said warily. “Just stick to your side of the bed.”
“You too. I’m not a cuddler,” he teased. Sarah frowned and sighed. She probably had no idea she’d been snuggling with him. He decided to keep that tidbit to himself.
Sarah turned back to the fire, staring at the orange flames.
“I found a nice view. I’ll take you tomorrow,” he started as he came up to stand next to her. Sarah blinked at him and he nudged her. “It’s about a mile from here. It will be fun. There’s also a trail that leads into a town—not sure if it’s wise to go there or not. But if we decide to go, it looks like it will be a bit of a hike. I’ll show you that tomorrow, too.”
She was silent for a long moment, her eyes staring at the orange flames. Vincent waited for her refusal. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair as if she were having an internal debate with herself.
“I suppose after everything we could use a little fun.”
Chapter Three
Sarah snuggled further into the warm pillows, enjoying the heat of the heavy quilts. A steady thrum thumped beneath her ear. The sound was soothing, but she couldn’t quite place what it was. She moved her arm to hook it under her pillow.
Her digits froze as they skimmed over a fleshy, hard plain. Sarah jolted up, throwing the covers back.
The cool morning chill took her breath away. She wrapped her arms around herself and peered down at Vincent. He lay sleeping, his chest rising and falling in even breaths.
A few scars were scattered over his pecks, but, instead of taking away from his muscular torso, it made it more defined. He had a definitive six-pack and a small patch of dark hair trailed from his belly button and into the plaid pants he was wearing.
Wait! Why am I looking at him like this?
Averting her eyes, she surveyed the room. The bed was against the wall on her side, and the foot of the bed was positioned against the wall as well. If she wanted out, she would have to crawl over Vincent. Great!
Sarah bit her lip and ran a hand through her gnarled golden locks.
Vincent rolled toward her, his arm jutting out, wrapping around her hips as he buried his face into her side. Sarah froze, her breath catching in her throat. Oh my God! What is he doing?
“Stop stealing all the covers,” he murmured.
Sarah’s pulse roared in her ears as she sat unmoving. After a long moment, she heard the quiet whistling of Vincent’s snore. He was asleep.
Carefully, she placed her hand over his, slowly lifting his fingers so she could wiggle out of his grasp. Once free, she stood up on her side, set his arm on the bed, and tossed t
he covers back over him. She inhaled sharply and closed her eyes praying he wouldn’t wake up. Sarah skimmed her foot over the covers, placing it on the other side of Vincent and then lifted her other foot. She was almost there; she just needed to get down. A part of her wanted to stay in bed and go back to sleep in his comforting embrace, but the other part found it unnerving that she slept like that with him at all.
Vincent's hand shot out from under the blankets, catching her ankle in midair. A scream bubbled up her throat as she lost her balance. She landed on Vincent’s lap. His hand latched onto her hip as he rose up. She screeched as he rolled her to her back, pressing his forearm onto her throat. Sarah gasped and struggled beneath his weight.
“Sarah?” Vincent asked confused, instantly moving his arm. He shot up, straddling her as his eyes widened with horror.
She closed her eyes as she coughed.
“God, I’m sorry. I sensed movement over me. I...”
“I was trying to get out of bed. I didn’t want to wake you,” she blurted, staring up into his emerald eyes.
“I didn’t even think to check. Did I hurt you?” he asked, his eyes glancing over her.
“I’m okay,” she assured. “It could have been someone else.” And it could have been. At least he was prepared and on alert, even when he was resting.
Vincent stiffened over her and cleared his throat. Heat crept over her face, burning all the way to her ears as she realized their position. He was nestled between her thighs, his chest pressed against hers with his face mere inches away.
“Sorry,” he said as he peeled himself off of her. He got out of bed and walked to the fire, grumbling something under his breath. Vincent picked up the poker and jabbed at the ashes.
Sarah lay back into the pillows for a moment. Her body was on fire and butterflies fluttered through her belly. Her body had reacted to him and that scared her.
“Our clothes are dry,” Vincent said as he checked the clothesline that hung next to the fire. He slipped his green shirt on. “And we still have berries. Breakfast?” He turned to her with the wooden bowl of fruit in hand.