by Young, S.
The minutes-walk seemed to last forever, but finally Conall reached the hotel where he’d parked the rental car. For a second, he tightened his hold on the feminine, powerless form in his arms, ready to gently settle her into the back seat. Then he remembered the photographs of her victims and he practically threw her in with a snarl.
His prey was caught.
It was time to get the hell back to Scotland, hand the murdering little wench over, retrieve his cure, and except for rejoicing in his sister’s recovery, forget the whole bloody thing had ever occurred.
The first thing Thea became cognizant of was the whooshing sound she’d soon realize was the noise of the road passing beneath her. Then the smell of leather. The feel of leather beneath her cheek. Followed closely by a slight rocking motion.
Instinct held her frozen, and she automatically cloaked her body in silence. Just until she got her bearings. Eyes still closed, she let awareness move through her, and with it came the memories.
The wolf.
She tensed and then forced herself to relax. Using her preternatural senses, she pushed beyond herself and the scent of earth and something darker, spicier, filled her nose. The wolf was here, driving her somewhere.
And Ashforth had sent him.
Rage and terror fought for supremacy and she was thankful for her cloaking gift that kept her shuddering from being detectable to the wolf. The bastard had injected her with Ashforth’s concoction, one of the few things on this planet that caused her agonizing pain.
If she thought she could get past Ashforth’s hired muscle and no doubt a supply of the drug, Thea would be tempted to stick around to teach the wolf a lesson about manners. Unfortunately, or fortunately, she was all about survival and escaping the wolf was her priority. Thea didn’t know how long she’d been knocked out or where the werewolf was taking her. Needing some idea of her surroundings, she risked opening one eye.
She was lying in the back of a small car with old black leather seats. The car smelled damp. Why did everywhere she went smell old and damp? For once she’d love to wake up somewhere literally smelling of roses. Or anywhere that didn’t smell like one huge, wet, dirty sponge.
Viewing the masculine profile in the front seat, Thea opened both eyes. Like the US, Poland drove on the right side of the road, and the werewolf was sitting in the driver’s seat on her left. He was mammoth in the small car, his dark hair brushing the top of the roof.
She couldn’t see his scar from this angle and yet he still looked formidable. It was the hard line of his jaw and the knifelike hilt of his cheekbones. She couldn’t see anything beyond his profile and the intimidating breadth of his shoulders because her own head pressed up against the right back passenger door.
The window framed gray skies, but that was all Thea could see from her position. She could sit up without making a noise; however, he’d see her out of his peripheral without the aid of hearing her move.
The car was so small it forced her knees to bend, her feet touching the door. If she hadn’t been dosed, Thea could’ve blasted the door off with one almighty shove. But she could still feel the drug. It was like a poison her healing abilities fought to overcome, slower than they combatted most things, but still, she’d win. Eventually.
For now, she was weak and unable to free herself from the car.
Thea would have to wait for the wolf to stop. She needed an opportunity where he turned his back, just long enough for her to run. Yes, she could run, escape. She was just in no shape to fight.
A shrill ringing made Thea jump. She slammed her eyes closed and forced her body to relax.
“Aye?” the deep timbre of the wolf’s voice caused her heart to race.
“I got your message.”
Ice slithered through Thea’s veins as Ashforth’s voice filled the car. For one frantic second, she thought he was here, in the passenger seat, until she fought through the panic. The phone was connected to the car. Ashforth was on speaker.
“Aye,” the werewolf repeated.
“You have her, then? She’s unconscious?”
A creak of leather sounded, and Thea swore she could feel the heat of the wolf’s eyes on her face. “Aye.” The creak sounded again. “You didnae tell me the drug would hurt the lass.”
The wolf sounded pissed.
Interesting.
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking she’s just a girl, Conall,” Ashforth said, his anger evident. He was angry? What the hell did he have to be angry about? “She can handle a little pain.”
The vile, acrid taste of loathing filled her mouth. Ashforth was a murderous megalomaniac. One she should have put down years ago. Unfortunately, the bastard had the ability to reduce her to a terrified, traumatized teenager.
“It seemed more than a little,” the wolf called Conall replied. “How’s Callie?”
“Comfortable. Happy. James is with her. Where are you now?”
“Still in Poland. We’re not far from the border.”
“How many days will it take you?”
“I calculate we’ll be back in Scotland in three days.”
Scotland.
Ashforth was in Scotland?
Thea visualized the map of Europe, familiar with it after six years of traveling across it. If Conall was taking her to Scotland, then he was driving to Calais. They’d drive through Germany and France, take the boat from Calais to Dover, and then presumably drive up to Scotland.
No planes.
Ashforth must have warned the wolf that planes were a terrible idea around Thea.
“You’ve succeeded where others have not. You certainly live up to your reputation.” How smug and pleased Ashforth sounded. One day she’d kill him. But Thea would have to delay the inevitable a little longer.
“I’ll call you when we reach Calais, and I expect to talk to Caledonia.”
“Done.”
The conversation ended abruptly, and Thea sensed a thick tension from Conall. A feeling of resentment or anger—some negative feeling that had heightened the longer he spoke with Ashforth.
It pricked her curiosity but not enough to convince her she could trust Conall the werewolf. Ashforth was right. Conall had gotten the better of her. She’d been unbeatable for six years. Until the Scot.
Consternated and irritated by his defeat of her, Thea scowled.
Not defeat.
Defeat meant the battle was over.
This battle was definitely not over.
* * *
Not too long later (thankfully, because the guy drove in total mind-numbing silence), Thea sensed the car slow, turning off what she assumed was a freeway heading toward Germany.
Her pulse raced as she readied herself to put an escape into motion. Anticipation thrummed in her blood, but she had to stay relaxed, lolling in the back like a drugged-out woman.
Finally, the car came to a complete halt and the gentle vibration of the engine stopped.
The familiar burning sensation on her cheek followed a creak of leather; she knew he was looking at her.
After what felt like an interminably long time, Thea heard the driver’s door open. The car rose beneath her with relief from the wolf’s impressive weight, and then the door shut. She held her breath, waiting as she heard his footsteps move around the car. Something rattled, hissed, and then glugged.
They were at a gas station, she realized.
Pulse increasing by the second, it took everything within Thea to hold still, not to just push open the door and run. But she still wasn’t at full strength and he’d catch her.
So she waited. Heard the glugging stop, the hissing and the gentle rattle of the gas cap closing.
Then the sweet sound she’d been waiting for.
Conall’s heavy footsteps moving farther and farther away.
Without a second to lose, Thea sat up, head low, and spied the tall, imposing figure of the Scot striding toward the gas station to pay. She gently opened the car door facing toward the freeway, and slipped out, keepin
g her body hidden behind the car.
Thea looked around, taking in the fast-moving traffic beyond, her eyes searching the signs. She couldn’t figure out from here where she was, and she had no time. To the left of the gas station was a shopping center. Beyond that, IKEA. Behind the gas station was a KFC and a furniture store and on the other side of the freeway, another shopping center.
All of that told Thea she was near a town. Possibly one large enough to hide in.
Decision made, Thea took off. She wasn’t as fast as she would be at full strength, but she was still faster than a human. Fast enough to run across a freeway without getting hit.
If a human-shaped blur streaking across the road astonished the humans, Thea couldn’t give a shit. Her priority was to get out of sight. Pronto.
Safely across, she jumped off the freeway, running across a field of grass toward the huge parking lot of the shopping arcade. Her limbs burned with exhaustion, her body still weak from fighting off the drug, but she persevered forward. Diving behind the first car she saw, Thea peered over the hood. The gas station was no longer visible and there was no sign of the werewolf.
Not yet anyway.
The car she was hiding behind was too nice, too new. Not inconspicuous enough. It was broad daylight, midday on a workday, and the parking lot wasn’t very busy. In the far corner, however, there was an old Ford, a little rusty, more than a little uncared for.
After checking to make sure there were no witnesses, Thea yanked on the door handle, breaking the lock. Her limbs trembled as she scrambled to get in the driver’s seat. When she was younger, Thea tended to fry things like engines when her emotions were high.
But that was years ago.
She’d learned a lot of control since then.
Placing her hand over the empty ignition, she sent what was left of her depleted energy into the car. It started abruptly.
Satisfied, Thea tore out of the parking lot, searching the roads for signs of where she was.
Wrocław. They were near Wrocław. Thea hadn’t visited the city, but it should be big enough to hide in until she got her strength back. If Conall was determined to hunt her, she needed to be strong enough to either fight or throw him off her scent entirely.
Following the signs into the city, Thea reached into the glove box and searched. A cheap pair of sunglasses, a map, and some old mints. Sighing in frustration, she flipped up the armrest and relief moved through her.
There was two fifty zloty banknotes and a handful of coins. That was nothing. About twenty-five dollars. But in Poland, it was enough to get you a room somewhere for the night.
She needed to find a cheap hotel. Somewhere she could rest up and get her strength back.
Although it was a risk, Thea dumped the car on the outskirts of the city center and began to walk. Paranoia caused sweat to soak under her arms and bead across her top lip. She tried her best to look calm, to not draw attention, as she stayed to back streets, following signs where she could.
Thea wandered into the heart of Wrocław, wishing she had time to fully appreciate the colorfully painted facades on some of the buildings. There was a Gothic structure in a square like the market square in Kraków’s Old Town, but she didn’t have time to find out what the building was. She gathered from the paved roads and lack of vehicles in this part of the city, however, that this was Wrocław’s Old Town. Her curiosity over a new city niggled but she had no time for it. Instead, she worried about being somewhere so visible.
On the outskirts, she found a hostel. The streets there weren’t nearly as pretty and graffiti covered much of the buildings, but the sign outside said she could get a room for the night for fifteen dollars.
Sold.
Frustration tore through Conall as he drove through the streets of Wrocław in search of Thea. He’d become aware as he stood in line to pay for petrol he couldn’t feel her. This hadn’t occurred to him since injecting her only a few hours ago because they’d shared a small car together. However, as he waited, testing his grasp on her scent, Conall realized it wasn’t working.
It must have been the drug. There was no other explanation.
Yet, under the assurance from Ashforth that the drug would incapacitate Thea for hours, Conall hadn’t expected to return to an empty fucking car!
Now, having guessed the little murderess would have taken off for the nearest town to hide in, Conall had driven into Wrocław. For the last hour he’d circled the town, searching the faces of pedestrians as he waited for his ability to kick in. His stomach growled with hunger, only intensifying his irritation. Seeing a stall selling what looked like bratwurst, he pulled over, ignoring a Polish man who seemed to berate him for parking his car in a no-park zone.
Fuck that.
Conall paid for the oversized hot dog and wolfed it down in two bites. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he gazed around the streets, hoping Thea would miraculously appear. He didn’t have time to chase her.
A warning tingle made the hair at the nape of his neck stand on end. Turning slowly, Conall searched the passing faces, looking for one that was watching him.
“You can’t park there,” the man behind the food cart said.
Narrowing his eyes, giving the street one last sweep for a threat, Conall nodded at him. “I’m just leaving.”
His whole body felt even more wired as he crossed the street to his car, and his senses screamed at him he was being watched. Was it Thea?
However, as he climbed into the car, he felt a familiar tug on his mind and just as suddenly as he’d lost her, Conall could smell and feel Thea again. The drug was wearing off.
Satisfaction and anger mingled as he drove, following her scent.
Conall did not forget, however, the warning sensation he’d felt on the street, realizing it couldn’t have been Thea watching him. She was somewhere in the opposite direction. Which meant there was a possibility he was being followed.
But by who?
“One bloody problem at a time,” he said to himself as he pulled up outside the building he felt her in. After searching for an English language sign, Conall realized Thea was on the top floor of the building in a cheap hostel.
Where the hell did she get the money for that?
Then he remembered her so-called “gift” that invaded people’s fucking minds, and he sneered with disgust. God, he couldn’t wait to be rid of her. Whatever the hell she was.
Agitated beyond belief, Conall drove down the next street, searching for an alley into the back of the building. He couldn’t park on the main street where anyone could see him dragging an unwilling female to his car.
Thankfully, he found what he was looking for and pulled into the car park behind the hostel.
He hesitated.
Conall could wait for nightfall, hope that Thea fell asleep, and then drag her out, or he could bet on the chances she wasn’t at full strength from Ashforth’s mysterious concoction and apprehend her now.
He was already throwing open the car door before his mind had come to a conclusion. Conall was considered patient for a werewolf but today his patience was nonexistent. He didn’t want to be around Thea Quinn any longer than he had to be.
After striding upstairs to the hostel, it dismayed Conall to see a common room near the reception busy with a group of young people chatting and laughing. Too many witnesses. He felt curious eyes follow him as he passed.
The receptionist took in Conall with a frown as he towered over the desk, and he could smell his slightly musky scent of fear.
“I need a room.”
The young man nodded and stammered in broken English, “Do you have identification?”
To leave no trace of his presence, Conall reached into his wallet and pulled out a bundle of zlotys. He slapped them into the receptionist’s open palm. “That’s my ID.”
The musky smell thickened, but the boy nodded. “Name …”
“John Smith.”
He typed into the computer behind his desk and then turned to
a locked cabinet of keys. Not meeting Conall’s eyes, he handed over a key and told him his room number and directions.
He could give a fuck which room he was staying in. He only cared about finding Thea’s room.
Marching away from the reception and prying eyes, Conall bounded up the stairs to the next floor, feeling Thea’s presence grow stronger. Anticipation flooded him, making his heart pound and his hands flex. Glancing down through the drop between the railings, Conall realized he could take this back staircase to the exit without having to go through reception.
Perfect.
The hallway on the next floor was empty. Conall tried to move his hulking figure as quietly as possible. He stopped outside the door of the room at the farthest end of the corridor and rested his palm against it.
Thea was behind the door.
Brat.
Grabbing the door handle he gave it a jarring tug and heard the lock break. Conall strode inside, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of Thea in fighting stance, facing him.
She held her fists up to her face like a practiced boxer, her knees bent.
Exasperated at the thought of delaying their journey with a fight, Conall swung the door shut behind him and crossed his arms over his chest.
Her olive skin was a little pale, her features strained from the obvious painful toll the mysterious drug had taken on her body. Dark circles were still visible beneath her wide, tip-tilted eyes. She was still weak.
Good.
“I have no wish to fight you.”
Thea grunted. “You’re trying to kidnap me, and you don’t expect me to fight back?”
“Are you capable of fighting in this state?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I could kick your ass any day of the week, Wolf Boy.”
A growl erupted from him before he could stop it. “Call me that again and see where it gets you.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
Conall tested the air and realized he couldn’t smell any hint of fear from her. Huh. Maybe that should give him pause.
It didn’t.
“Listen and listen carefully.” He took a step toward her and her lush lips pressed tightly together. “I’m no ordinary werewolf. You can run from me, Thea, but I’ll always be able to find you. So let’s give into the inevitable and not make a big deal out of this.”