For a moment she lay there, Daxon’s arm curled over her waist, holding her to him as they slept. He’d tended to her, she thought morosely. Cared for her. Expected her to be next to him when he woke. She wiped tears from her face with careful movement, not wanting to disturb his slumber.
His breathing was slow, easy, signifying the relaxed sleep-state of a man thoroughly sated. His body was a rock beneath hers, pure strength tempered by a kind heart.
God, she didn’t want to break his heart. Didn’t want to shatter him into pieces or rip part of herself away to leave with him as she fled.
But through the darkness outside the windows—windows they’d left bared to the outside world without thought or regard to who watched—came the palest sheen of light. Dawn would break soon, send light spilling over the valley like a giant spotlight.
Waiting another day was impossible. God knew what plans they had for her, how many claws they could sink into her while she waited for the sun to set once more. Saying another goodbye to Daxon would not be possible.
So she slipped from beneath his comforting arm, not bothering with clothes. She kissed him softly on the mouth, waiting for a perilous few seconds to see if he’d wake but he didn’t. Like a thief, she crept from the bedroom and headed downstairs, beelining for the kitchen.
Raiding the refrigerator, she ate as much as her belly could handle, pacifying her hunger pains for the moment while she hunted through the drawers for pen and paper. She found what she was looking for and paused, unsure how to even begin.
Daxon, she wrote.
There is no easy way to say this, or to go through with it. I never wanted to leave you, never wanted to hurt you—or me, for that matter—in the way I know this will hurt us both. But it is for the best, I believe that even as I hate myself for it.
I came here with you to start a new life, to build a home and a family with you. Being what you are, knowing what you have inside you and is now inside me, changed me in more ways than I can count, mostly for the better. I had hoped I’d find my place here, by your side.
But I’m an outsider. Not just an outsider but an outcast. I am what you are, and yet I’m seen as a monster, an abomination as your brother rightly said. Not a shifter and no longer human. This place will never accept me, it will never accept our children, and I can’t stay here and wait for the orders to come down for me and our babies to die.
I’ll be long gone before you wake, but I want you to know our time together—however fleeting—has been the best time in my life. I know what it is to love so fiercely that it cuts like a knife through my heart. Loving you completes me, and I will love you until the day I die. I hope once the pain passes that you’ll believe me when I say I love you more than I ever have anything in my life.
I love you, Dax.
Baylee
She sniffled, blinked back more tears and folded the note in half, scribbling his name on the front and propping it against the fruit bowl in the middle of the kitchen table. She gave it one last look and padded to the front door, easing it open only enough for her to squeeze through, closing it with the barest click of sound.
In the dawn light she stood, naked and exhausted. The valley was quiet, the cabins still, and no other people in sight. Luck was on her side or so it appeared; she wasn’t taking any chances it would change in a heartbeat.
Baylee caressed her stomach, blew out a breath. The national park stretched for miles in every direction, but she figured she’d easily get lost. The best bet was to go back the way Daxon had brought her through.
Sheba, you with me?
Time to go, Sheba agreed immediately. Bad things will happen today if we don’t leave now.
Baylee didn’t want to know how Sheba knew these things but right now, she wasn’t going to question the she-panther’s intuition. If something bad was coming, she wanted to be well out of the way.
If we get into trouble, get us out of it, Sheba. Can’t beat natural instincts. Baylee held her hands loosely by her side and called the panther to her. Relaxing was anything but easy, but the change enfolded her quickly, eradicating any trace of the human and leaving in its place the fiery she-panther.
She sniffed the air, caught scent of a few different shifters, and put her head down. There was a footpath about a half-mile away, and Baylee assumed it would take her deep into the trees surrounding the camp. She could make it—a panther’s top speed was about seventy, more than enough to race to safety, however temporarily.
She leaped from the porch and was instantly hit with a barrage of smells concentrated in a line. She studied the ground, found evidence of a circular route and came up with one conclusion: guards. They’d assigned a contingent of security to prowl around the house.
Which meant they couldn’t be far away.
She trotted quietly over lawns, around cabins, using what she could for cover. When she hid behind a bush closest to her escape point, she estimated she had only two hundred feet to cross in the complete open.
Two hundred feet and she could lose herself in the forest. Somehow she’d have to find a way to mask her scent, otherwise they’d be able to track her as easily as if she had a flare strapped to her back. She could run for miles, until she was too exhausted to move, and they could follow at a leisurely pace so they had enough energy left to kill her.
Water, Sheba suggested. We must run through water, or swim.
Baylee rose into a crouch, muscles bunching as she readied herself for the sprint. Just the first step, she encouraged. Once the first step was taken, the rest would follow. She had to be strong, to find the courage to take that step, or else she sentenced them all to death.
“Over there!”
She took off like a bullet, powering herself over the open space as howls ripped the air asunder and left her cold. Wolves. She covered the ground quickly, catching sight of guards racing from either side of her just before she bolted along the path into the woods.
No head start. No significant lead to get ahead of her pursuers. She had no idea of numbers, but she had no doubt every shifter in the valley would be called to arms if Daxon’s father deemed it necessary. That thought alone spurred her to speed up, accelerating down the path as branches swiped viciously at her pelt.
They had years of experience at shifting under their belts; she barely knew the basics. She was limited to one spectrum of forms, the orange in a rainbow, while they had the full range to play with.
Who says? Sheba asked.
What? Focused on the path and not breaking her neck, Baylee tossed the question back at her hitchhiker. She skidded around a corner, losing her backend and almost spinning herself into the broad trunk of a centuries-old tree.
We are not limited to the feline form.
Well shit. No one thought to tell me that? Would have been useful to know before we ended up in the middle of a national park full of shifters, running for our lives. Why the hell didn’t we just fly out of there?
You didn’t ask. For the moment, this form will suffice. They believe we are like Daxon and Vex, with only the big cats in our repertoire. This works to our advantage. We have the element of surprise should we need it.
Oh yeah, we’re going to need it, Baylee shot back as they rounded another corner and came head-to-head with the three massive grizzly bears she’d had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting the day before. They formed a triangle, blocking the path where it split into three.
Baylee slammed the brakes on, front legs outstretched and her rear sliding beneath her. Panting, she looked for an escape route, her anxiety ramping up as the wolf pack behind her closed in. They weren’t far behind, splitting up and scouring the forest, casting out a net in which she’d undoubtedly get caught.
The biggest bear on the middle path changed, reverting to human form with an ease she envied. Tristan, she remembered. Daxon had called him Tristan, and he had no compunction about hitting women. Yet another reason to leave this godforsaken place.
“Good effort,” he sai
d in a friendly tone. “Not good enough.”
She backed up a couple paces, head low, body ready for action. If she could throw herself into the undergrowth, she might stand a chance of eluding them. Or she’d end up so tangled she’d just offer herself to them like a prettily-wrapped Christmas present.
“I would advise you not to run. You have a pack of twenty or so wolves on your tail, not to mention us three. As...brave as you are,” he said reluctantly, “you don’t stand a—ha ha—cat in hell’s chance of getting out of this. Change back and we’ll take you in quietly. Fight us and you’ll go back to Daxon in bloody pieces.”
Baylee retreated another step. On the wind came the pungent smell of wolf—she didn’t know the smell intimately, but the panther recognized it. Time slipped away from her by the handful, options whirling through her overtaxed brain. So many choices, so many ways to fail. Too many ways to die.
Last stand.
Last stand, Sheba agreed.
Baylee grieved as she lay down, bellied her way over to Tristan in submission. She wanted to curl her lip at the way he smiled at her triumphantly. Wanted to rip his face from his skull.
He crouched, stroked a hand over her head. “Wise choice. Better to experience a quick clean death, yes, than go down in a hail of blood, bone and glory.”
Blood, bone and glory.
Baylee lunged into an almost standing position, front legs wide and claws extended. She let the roar in her belly burst free, a terrifying sound that spooked even her on the inside. As Tristan swore and rose straight, she was on him, vicious fangs biting deep into the flesh of his neck and shoulder as her claws tore gouges from his torso.
Hot, coppery blood—more delicious than anything she’d tasted from a deer—spurted into her mouth, feeding her bloodlust like gasoline on an open fire. She reveled in his scream of terror, felt his cocky arrogance shrivel and die, leaving sweet fear in its wake.
Something hit her from the side, big and heavy. She released the dying man and cried out as something fragile within her crunched. Blood dripping from her snarling maw, Baylee spun and faced the two bear brothers.
They were pissed. Standing to their full height and, like her, teeth and claws were at the ready. Their eyes were black and full of hate; after all, she told herself, she’d just murdered their brother and turned them from triplets to twins.
Can you talk to them, Sheba? she asked.
No, we are not bonded. Only Vex and I can communicate. Why, did you wish me to convey a message?
Oh yeah. I wish you’d tell them I hope they die in a lot of pain, feeling the same terror their brother felt, and that they know they’ve been taken down by a pregnant woman. That ought to stick in their craw.
Sheba smirked; Baylee sensed the smugness. I think they already know. Are we to die here then? Our injuries feel quite severe.
Baylee wasn’t thinking about the pain or the shortness of breath. She lifted her head, blood still dripping from her mouth, and gave her best impression of a grin. She charged at the space between the furry hulks, sinking her teeth into the leg of the one on the left as she passed. She held on, the velocity snapping her body around.
Holding on, she ripped the bear’s leg open to the bone, severing tendons and muscles like a scalpel slash. Letting go, she darted out of the way as the bear toppled, his substantial upright weight taking him down as his leg gave way. His pained roar was music to her ears.
The last remaining bear dropped onto all fours, an intimidating foe. Eyes on his, Baylee padded over to the downed brother, extended her claws and held her paw above his neck. He snapped at her, eyes glittering with hate, face contorted in agony as he rumbled.
Merciless, she attacked his throat, stabbing her claws at the thick fur around his vital areas rather than swiping. She punctured flesh, dodging his steel-trap jaws, taking hits from his huge paws that had her own blood splattering on the ground.
The last brother made a horrendous sound, grief and rage rolled into one unearthly noise. The ground shook under his weight as he pounded toward her.
She hit the jugular on the fallen bear, her claws digging through the main artery with a spectacular arch of blood. When, in his fading moments, he batted her aside with a backhand, she took the blow and felt herself fly, landing with a bone-jarring thud and rolling sideways into a tree.
She lay there for a moment, observing the carnage she’d unleashed. One shifter dead, one bear twitching in his last moments of life. With dazed interest, she watched as his twitches stopped, and he went through his final change. Who knew shifters reverted to their human form when they died?
The remaining brother—Ajax? Pheta?—pulled up and lumbered toward her with the same expression on his face as Tristan had; the knowledge of victory and certain death. This time, she knew she couldn’t win.
Around her, stepping out from behind the trees, several shifters appeared. Some in human form, others in wolf. They all wore expressions of horror, of grief, of fear. They stood and did nothing as the bear stepped closer to her.
What did she expect? She’d killed two of their own, of course she was the bad guy in this scenario. They knew nothing of her or her life, her hopes and dreams. They didn’t know she loved a man whom she’d left sleeping in bed while she came out here to die. They probably wouldn’t care.
Get up, Sheba ordered tersely. We will not die on our back or our belly. We face death with honor and dignity, no matter the end. We shall not cower before our enemy, will not beg or plead for our life.
Anyone ever tell you that you talk funny? Baylee replied with a pained groan. Her body screamed now as the main of the adrenaline started to fade. Things were broken, she knew that much. She smelled the rich tang of her own blood. She had no hope of getting to her feet.
The bear melted away into a man. She thought she recognized the face, and stared into furious dark eyes. He stalked the last few feet, stood above her like an avenging angel. She thought she imagined a pair of blood-red wings unfurling from his back but, when she blinked, the visage disappeared.
He was simply a naked man—well, a boy, really, she supposed. She hadn’t paid much attention to any of the bears but Tristan; as she studied this last brother now, she realized he couldn’t be more than twenty. His hands fisted at his sides, big hands clenched in violence.
“We should have killed you yesterday,” he said in a low, grumbling voice. At least his balls had dropped, she thought with a giggle. He had the voice of a man, if not the face. “Shax should never have shown you leniency.”
Leniency? Being held prisoner was leniency? Baylee rolled her eyes and sighed; a bad move as her ribs ground together in a way that sent fire sparking along her nerve endings.
“I could kill you now. Slaughter you like you’ve slaughtered my brothers.” His teeth bared, his face turning to stone. “But I’m not going to. Shax wanted you alive for a reason, and I’m taking you back to him. When he’s finished with you, you’ll scream for death. Beg for it. And I’ll be there, waiting. It won’t be quick, I promise you.”
Panic swam through the pain, eclipsed it. Baylee wondered if she could chew through an artery before they got her back to the settlement. She’d rather die here, surrounded by nature, than back there in whatever torture chamber Shax had constructed.
The wolves pressed in closer until they formed a wall around her. A few stepped forward, obviously volunteers to carry her back.
She rolled from her side onto her belly. Gathering her final remnants of strength, scraping the bottom of the fuel tank, she heaved herself up and onto her feet. She staggered forward, almost nose-dived into the ground, and managed to stabilize herself.
If she could have produced sweat, she’d have dripped it from every pore. Instead, blood streaked down her black pelt, plopping in thick drops on the ground.
She limped toward him, trying to look as threatening as possible despite her current condition. She knew she was no longer a threat to him when he simply stood and watched her hobble at hi
m.
When her nose almost touched his crotch, she stopped and sagged. Her legs trembled under her weight and it was only through sheer force of will she kept standing.
“You’ll get no mercy from me.”
Not really expecting any, she answered silently. She thought of Daxon then, wished she’d still been curled around him in bed. Wished they’d had more time together. She prayed he would forgive her, for the mess she’d made and the way her escape had ended up sliding into the gutter.
Knowing the wolves would destroy her if she fought back, Baylee threw her weight forward, opening her jaws wide as she enveloped the shifter’s genitals in her mouth before biting down and ripping away.
His scream had the potential to haunt her nightmares. Baylee offered thanks for the fact dead women didn’t dream. As he dropped to his knees, hands clutching desperately at his ruined groin, Baylee met his rapidly-glazing eyes and spat his mating tackle on the ground in front of him.
The wolves rallied together, human forms disappearing until all that remained was an angry, snarling pack. They closed in around her, a full circle now, cutting off every getaway. Not that it mattered; she could barely stand now, her front legs collapsing.
As the bear died before her eyes, she went down under a volley of heavy bodies. She bit and scratched and gouged as best she could but didn’t make a dint in their ranks. She fought back a scream of her own as teeth ripped at her flesh, clamped on her legs, locked down on her neck.
I’m sorry, Sheba. I’m so sorry.
Go now, Sheba replied. Her tone was gentle, loving. If Baylee could have cried then, tears would have flowed as freely as her blood. You’ve fought well, Baylee. Fought with dignity and pride. You can let go now. Let me see the final stages through. Let me take my share of the pain. Surrender yourself and find peace.
This is my doing.
Wild: Hangman's Haunt Book 1 Page 25