Page 5 of Red

Of course, this is clearly the only reason he gave in last night—to make me miserable. I doubt he will resist turning for long.

I take off down the winding driveway behind him, keeping my distance. We run in silence for the best ten minutes I have had in days—except he ruins it when he slows to match my pace.

I block out his presence beside me and focus on my breath—frigid air in through my nose, steamy air out through my mouth—as I run through the small clouds I make. The warmth flows through me, keeping the winter weather at bay.

Continuing down the road, we head away from town, toward Otis and Faira’s property. I don’t know how far it is, and I’m already regretting skipping my chance to review the map this morning. Hopefully, it’s not close.

The road is bright, with only a few sets of tire tracks in the snow. The white reflects off the trees. I would have brought sunglasses if I’d known I’d be stuck running the road with him. He keeps next to me, less than a few feet away, and I pick up my pace. Here, the snow comes up just past the soles of my shoes. Snowbanks from previous snowfall plowings line both sides of the narrow road, and the silence is just what I needed. No signs of life, just the soft sounds of our feet in the snow and the expansive forest, the most relaxing place on earth. We haven’t hit any other property yet, and I’m grateful.

Our steps fall into a comfortable rhythm. I’m impressed that his long legs manage to match mine. He must feel like he’s walking.

Again, I pick it up. I might have human-sized legs, but I have spent years running more hours than daylight on occasion. The road dips and rises over hills, but my breath stays even, and Stark’s does the same. I glance over at him for the first time since he’s matched my pace. He’s composed, staring ahead of us. Noticing that I’m looking over, he eyes me, a cloud of breath in front of his face, and I almost misstep. Catching myself on the slippery snow, I continue.

“How are you not frozen?” His calmness of his words in the snowy stillness shocks me out of my running trance.

“Running makes me hot.” It’s only a sliver of the truth. Pratt might have taught me to keep secrets, but I can avoid lying.

“I know we run hot, but you . . . don’t you get cold? Without wolf blood?”

I squint my eyes at him without an answer and take off in a real sprint. In moments, he catches up, his long legs starting to stretch out. I try one more time, but in seconds, he’s beside me again.

Heat like a liquid fills me, and I let it. I don’t need to keep cool out here. I step a bit more into the middle of the road to keep my heat away from him.

“You’re faster than I expected.”

I roll my eyes at him. To everyone, I am just the weak girl who didn’t turn. Small, and a risk to the pack.

Staying in the sprint, time goes by until we reach an opening in the trees. I slow down, knowing it must be the cutoff. I don’t want to push my luck. If I can do this all day, it’s something to distract me from thoughts of my new home and no Pratt. The driveway is like Stark’s—if you were driving, you might not notice it. It’s barely wide enough for a truck, its edges filled with brush. I look down the driveway, but I can’t see the house from the road. Packs sure love privacy, yet are always in each other’s houses; I don’t get it.

“This is where we turn around. Didn’t think you’d make it this far. We can walk back, or I can call for a ride.”

The insult hits, and the heat in my skin is too much.

Losing a breath, I take off back the way we came without answering. I didn’t ask to be at his house. I want to go home.

Now.

A memory of Pratt floats into my thoughts.

“Alo, secrets aren’t for a pack. You tell one, you tell them all.” His wide hands rested on my shoulders, holding my body an arm’s length away.

I stared at his bare feet while he tried to read me further. “I got it.”

He gave me one of his brotherly squeezes, too tight to be nice but not enough to cause real pain.

I run harder, but the heat grows until it’s at the brink of too much.

Cool yourself now, Alo. Pratt’s old words fill my mind.

I twist my head to the trees, expecting Pratt to be there, brown-furred in the woods. The rows of trees are endless, but there’s nothing but a small rabbit hopping between hideouts. My chest sinks, and tears streak down my cheeks. I force the heat inside me to sizzle and slow down.

Stark’s hand clasps around my arm, and I jump away.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Aloka, your tracks . . .” His eyes glower at me.

Twisting to see behind me, there are two sets of tracks heading in the opposite direction, one larger than the other. It’s not those he’s talking about, though. It’s the one that’s heading this way. Gravel shows through the snow, ice formed around each small print.