“Ack!” She grimaced and nearly fell back on her ass. She lifted her arm, swiping her face clean, and glared at the not so little mutt.
Morgan would swear to the gods the little shit actually snickered before he turned and pranced back toward the coven.He glanced back at her every five feet, waiting to see if she would change her mind.
She rose to her feet and crossed her arms, waiting until he disappeared back in the trees before she turned and joined her mates. The miles passed swiftly, the shifters slowly herded her and her mates until they were at the center of the group. Morgan glanced at the others to see if they noticed, then had to bite back the smile at the consternation on their faces.
Draven gave her the side eye, his face twisted in a grimace. “Tell me we aren’t that annoying.”
“Worse.” She couldn’t resist the chuckle when he winced.
When the shifters saw they easily kept pace with them, they picked up their speed until they were running at a fast jog. The miles passed swiftly, some of the shifters and werewolves breaking off in pairs to investigate scents.
It was almost eerie how swift and silent they could move through the forest. While most humans wouldn’t notice her, she was clumsy in comparison to them. They just flowed through the trees and underbrush like they were one with nature, and she sighed enviously at their natural grace.
Ryder flashed her a smile when he saw her disgruntled expression. “If you want, I can take you out with a couple of the otherloup garoutrainees and teach you how they mimic our movements. You have enough natural grace that you should be able to hone your skills to almost match the wolves, given enough time.”
She grinned, excited by the prospect of running with the pack again. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed it until he offered. “I would love that. Thank you!”
Pleasure blazed in his amber eyes, his white teeth flashing as he beamed at her. His long hair flowed behind him as he picked up his pace, his legs stretching, and she watched in awe as he took over as lead of the pack.
Alpha.
He carried the extra weight of responsibilities with ease, helping others instead of beating them down. It was one of thethings she loved most about him. Wanting him to know exactly how much she appreciated it, she touched the almost metal webbing that was tattooed between the skin of her thumb and forefinger, a tiny wolf print caught along the web, allowing him to see himself as she saw him.
And squashed a smile when he stumbled, shooting a wide-eyed, starved look in her direction like he was seconds away from turning around and pinning her to the nearest tree.
“Naughty girl.” Draven nudged her shoulders, and she hated that she got flustered when he shot her a knowing smirk. She shouldn’t be surprised he noticed every time she was distracted by the guys—he was a siren, after all. She was getting used to being called out by him. It was cute, almost like a game. She suspected he did it not only to see her rattled, but reassure himself that what she felt for them was real.
That what she felt for them wasn’t just lust.
Being a siren, he was confident in his skills to read other women.
She loved that he was uncertain around her.
It meant that she mattered.
The rest of the guys kept pace with her, not venturing far from her side, always alert for dangers.
Instead of being annoyed by their hovering, she found it sweet.
A way to show that they cared.
They treated her like a child at times, watching what she ate, making sure that she slept, even setting out clothes for her. It wasn’t that they thought she was incapable of taking care of herself, they just felt that it was their job now as her mate.
It was adorable, watching the tough warriors stumble around trying to accommodate her, like she was a strange alien in their mist.
Then all her musings were cut short when Caedmon jerked to a halt, his nose lifting in the air. His head snapped to the right, and he took off at a run, his form just a blur through the trees. The rest of the pack moved with him without hesitation, and likea school of fish or flock of birds, they remained within formation.
Morgan put on a burst of speed, determined to keep up with them, the stretch and burn of muscles feeling good. A few miles ahead, they burst into a clearing, the wolves in the lead barely stopping from plunging into the lake.
Chest heaving, doing her best not to pant, she glanced around the shore, her gaze coming to rest on a cabin across the way.
And nearly jumped out of her skin when the sound of a shotgun blast shattered the silence.
Growls and howls erupted from human throats, and the pack took off in a looping run. That was when she saw the old man from the grocery store standing on his porch, the butt of his rifle at his shoulder. The same man who had been captured by the wendigo and stuffed in a cage to be used as a snack for later.
She tried to recall his name and came up blank.
She dug deeper, and a sharp burst of pain pierced her skull like her head was being crushed, then it was gone and information flooded her brain.
