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“Fuck!” he barks out. “Be quiet, dammit! That’s exactly what they’re looking for, Cedara! Why can’t you just-?” He stops when I whimper; I’m crouching low again. I don’t like it when he’s angry. Neither does my wolf. But we’re both beginning to trust him. Even though that’s just not enough…
I can’t change.
She won’t let me. At least, I think that’s what it is. Because now both of us are aware of the danger we’re in. I have to be human. I need to be human.
Gritting my teeth, I focus every fiber of myself on willing the shift to come. The sound of running water fades away, the cold stone of the cave floor barely registering as I try to alter my form. I shake with the effort…until, eventually, I give up in defeat, panting. My paws are still paws, my ears still pricked, my body still coated in dense fur.
It’s not working.
I can’t change. Neither can she. We’re stuck. Just as we have been for all this time. Those brief moments of being human were simply a tempting glimpse of what I once was.
The noise that ripples up my throat is more of a groan than a growl.
“Fuck,” he finally says, an look of realization flickering over his features. “You can’t. You can’t change, can you?”
I dip my head, crestfallen. He’s right. This has nothing to do with needing to defend myself. When I’d felt the shift come hours ago, after he’d left and the men had patrolled past, and the fear had become overwhelming, I hadn’t done it willingly. The beast stepped in and took over. Just as she had when I’d been roaming these woods. And now I’m locked in again.
“Jesus,” he says under his breath. “This is a fuck-up.”
I sink low onto the ground, dropping my head onto my paws, and look up at him. He settles onto his ass, sitting cross-legged in front of me. He rests his elbows on his knees, steeples his fingers in front of him, and sets his chin on his fingertips. Our gazes meet, and again, I’m taken by the beauty of his eyes. Up close, they’re still dark, but I can see tiny tawny flecks in them that catch the light.
“I’m going to think of something, a way to get out of this,” he says, his voice firm. But how can he be so certain? The minute I set foot beyond the cave entrance, there’ll be a target on my back. And on his, too, if he tries to defend me.
I huff out a deep breath. Another whine ripples through me. He reaches out a hand and runs his palm over the top of my head, stroking down to my neck.
“We’ll get out of this, beautiful. Trust me.” He keeps stroking me, his touch soothing. I close my eyes for a second, sinking into the sensation.
There’s a scraping sound as he shifts position, his boots grazing over the grit of the floor as he swivels and sets his back against the wall, sitting beside me. I huff again, not resisting when he lifts my head and then rests it down against his thigh. The warmth of his honed flesh seeps into my own, and I like it. It’s soothing. I like the scent of him, and I like the feeling of him.
It makes me happy.
Or at least as happy as I could be, given our circumstances.
Which are what? That I’m trapped in a cave with a stranger called Barrett while dozens of armed men search the forest outside? Men who will shoot me the minute they catch sight of me?
Yeah, these are pretty messed up circumstances…and I’ve been through a lot, so I should know. Especially these past months since the attack on our packlands. So much of that time has been a blur.
God, how I long for it all to be the way it used to be. Our simple life, living off the earth, letting Mother Nature guide us. The hardest thing to deal with was a poor crop or bad weather.
Now, my next decision could mean the end of my life.
I want to go home.
If home even exists anymore. I suspect that it doesn’t. I’m beginning to believe that the world I once knew is long gone. That all the things I held dear have been destroyed.
I let out a long, deep breath, and it comes out as a whimper. Which makes me feel even more pitiful.
I should be doing something, dammit!
What about Mom? Aunt Julie and Uncle Al? The kids!
They were all in there with me. But where are they now? What did he find out when he went back there? If I could find my freaking voice, I’d demand to know. But I’m mute, limited to growls and yips and ridiculous whines.
I lift my head, raising a foot to paw at his leg. My nails scratch at the thick denim until his stroking pauses.
“What?” he asks. I stare at him intently, wishing I could get through to him. Our eyes lock again. His brow furrows in concentration. “Your family escaped,” he says abruptly. “They went with two of our people.”
Oh, thank God!
