AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Not for long, though. He would get her back or die trying.
There was no way he could survive losing her a second time.
Running on a sprained ankle was pure hell.
With every step, every stride, the shock of pain radiated all the way up to her hip. It was agony, but at least it wasn’t broken. She never would’ve been able to bolt if the bone had splintered.
Adrenaline helped. It cushioned the pain enough that it was bearable; it wasn’t easy to move, but she was so determined to escape, she pushed past it. Gritting her teeth, Evangeline dashed through the woods, putting more weight on her left foot. The right one was weak, her ankle throbbing, and the uneven terrain was terrible to navigate. She fell once, cursed under her breath, then scrambled back to her feet.
He would chase her. She knew that with every fiber of her being. The stranger would chase her as soon as he realized she was gone.
She had to put enough distance between them so that it wouldn’t be that easy for him to track her. If luck was on her side, he wouldn't be a predatory shifter with excellent tracking skills. Of course, then she remembered his gold eyes, the air of danger and dominance that surrounded him, and she realized she was screwed.
But she wouldn’t give up. She had to try. Three years of recovery following a crash that should have killed her… she didn’t go through all of that only to end up a shifter’s plaything.
Branches whipped past her. The trees were so close together, it was a tough fit. At some point she got snagged by one of the rougher branches, tearing right through the flesh of her upper arm. Compared to her aching ankle, the slice was nothing but a sting. No, it was the blood she was freaking out about.
Why not just leave a big, honking arrow that told him she’d run this way?
Pausing only to slap a patch of mud on the dripping gash, Evangeline wiped her hands on her shorts before forcing herself to continue. She purposely avoided thinking about things like dirt and infection. It was all about the escape.
It wasn’t long before she realized she’d run out of time.
The howl split through the air. It was loud, ear-piercing, a baying-at-the-moon type of wail. It sent a chill coursing through her and Evangeline stopped running. She just stopped. The howl was paralyzing, a deep-throated cry that seemed to reach inside of her and press the pause button.
She couldn’t move.
The echoes of the stark animalistic howl reverberated in her skull, pulsing in time to the frantic beat of her heart. Because that howl? She knew without knowing how that it was a cry meant for her. The shifter male had already started the chase, calling for her with the help of his beast.
And he wasn’t all that far from where she stood like a dope, just waiting for him to find her.
Before she could pull herself together and take off, he burst into the trees.
Evangeline almost expected him to be wearing fur. He wasn’t.
Maddox, uh, wasn’t wearing much of anything.
Jeans, yeah, but that was all. He was entirely shirtless and, now that the shifter was out of the bag, he didn’t bother with his shades any longer, either.
Her eyes were immediately drawn to his sculpted chest. She’d have to be blind not to notice how ripped he was. He was strangely hairless, considering he was part animal, and she found herself staring at one pec in particular.
Drawn in a silver-laced ink so that it was permanent, Maddox bore a tattoo right over his left pec. Right over his heart. A string of numbers, Evangeline stared at the tattoo in confusion.
She knew that date.
Why… why did he?
Tearing her gaze away from the marking he shouldn’t have, Evangeline did a double-take. Every time she met with him at Mugs, he wore a turtleneck. Now, though, she finally got a glimpse of what he was hiding apart from his tattoo.
His throat.
Growing up in mainly human neighborhoods, Evangeline didn’t know as much about the paranormal races as those who lived in the more integrated communities. She still recognized the scars and raw skin that left Maddox’s lower neck visibly destroyed.
Those were the marks of a silver collar.
Only shifters who were thrown in the magic-free prison were forced to wear collars like that. From how ruined Maddox’s skin was, he must have been wearing one for a long, long time.
But he wasn’t in the Cage any longer.
