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"Meaning you have some idea as to what was going on in there?"
"Vague suspicions, nothing more."
"Like what?"
I grimaced. "Gene research. Crossbreeding."
His face was expressionless, his eyes slightly narrowed. He obviously suspected I knew more than what I was saying, but all he said was, "How long were you in there?"
"Around eight days, but tonight is the first night I can really remember."
He grunted. "It was like that for me, too. Though I was apparently there for two months before I came to my senses."
Then obviously, we'd all been drugged. But why did it take two months for the effects to wear off the stallions, and just over a week for me? Was the simple fact that I shouldn't have woken yet the only reason I'd been able to escape?
I scrubbed a hand across my eyes and wished the fog would clear so I could remember what had gone on. "Did you ever try to escape?"
"No, because it was impossible. The chains were never off us, and the stables were fitted with psi-deadeners, just in case any of us tried to get cute that way."
At least that explained why I hadn't sensed what they were - though he'd known what I was, which was interesting. Or maybe it was simply a matter of a horse being sensitive to the odor of a wolf.
"Did they do any more than milk you?"
"No, thank God."
"Did you ever see any other type of shifter?"
"We were never out of the damn stable."
Then he had to have been superbly fit before he'd been captured to still carry any sort of strength and endurance months down the track. He crawled out of the stream on all fours, and stretched out on the grass.
My gaze traveled down the length of him. It wasn't only his coloring that was magnificent. He was built like a thoroughbred - broad shoulders, powerful chest, slim hips and long, strong legs. His rump and back still bore the barely healed whip scars, but he had the best ass I'd seen on a man since Quinn had walked in, and then out, of my life.
I'd never met a horse-shifter before, and had to wonder where they'd been hiding all my life. If this man was a sample of what they had to offer, I might be tempted to seek one or two out the next full moon. If they could get over their instinctive hate of wolves, fun could definitely be had.
"There's no vibration of steps through the earth," he said.
"They could be way behind, but they will be following us."
He shifted, his expression intent as his gaze met mine. "You seem very certain of that."
"They tried to kill us rather than capture us. That suggests they value secrecy more than they value us."
"Then we'd better get moving again."
Moving was the last thing I wanted when every bone ached with weariness. I needed to sleep even more than I needed coffee - a big statement considering how hooked I was on caffeine. But staying put, even for a few hours, wasn't an option when we were still so close to that complex.
He climbed to his feet with effortless grace, then offered me a hand. His fingers were warm despite the time he'd spent in the water, and his palm was rough against mine. He pulled me upright then let go, but made no immediate attempt to move away.
My gaze rose to his. Awareness burned in his brown eyes, and suddenly I remembered that this was a man who hadn't been with a woman for many, many months. The icy water had washed the stable smells from his skin, and his musky odor, rich with the scent of desire, swam around me. Lust stirred, warming the chill from my flesh.
He raised a hand and brushed wet strands of hair from my cheek. "May I know your name?"
His fingers trailed heat where they touched. It felt nice, and the stirring lust sharpened. Though nowhere near enough to wipe out the fear of recapture and the need to get moving. I quickly said, "Riley Jensen. You?"
"Kade Williams."
"We need to get moving, Kade."
