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I’m holding the side of my face. It hurts like hell, but I manage to speak, even if I’ve lost my edge. “Y-you let Autumn go…”
“Autumn has that privilege.”
Pain twists in my chest. “And I don’t?”
“No.”
The word hangs in the air between us. Nothing more is said. I’m breathing fast. She’s breathing fast, but it doesn’t matter. The conversation is over, and I’m left with only two options: do as she says or fight. I know which one I’ll choose.
“You’re the worst alpha I’ve ever known.”
“And you’re a spoiled, ignorant brat.”
She’s not backing down, but neither am I. Without another word, I go to the front door. I’m outside, pulling the hem of my dress up and over my head as I run. The design of it with thin spaghetti straps means I don’t wear a bra, and I don’t hesitate to rip the thong from my body as I lean forward, lunging into my shifter form.
Four paws hit the ground, and I’m running hard into the night. It’s late, and all I care about is burning away the pain of her words — the pain of having such a hateful bitch of an alpha sister, who only cares about money and status. She’s never cared about me. She never will. I want my mom.
Even in my shifter form, even running, I hiccup a sob at the thought. I miss my kind, beautiful mother. As I cover the miles, I remember her holding me on her lap when I was a little girl. I remember her rich, comforting voice as she would thread her fingers through my dark hair. I remember the beauty of her words…
“You’re a lynx, Mercy. One of the most magical creatures. Native peoples invoked us to help them find things elusive and rare. We teach mortals to trust their instincts, to be alert. We give them extra-sensory perception.”
Mother would have loved that I’m not a snob. She would have loved that I want to be an artist. She would have encouraged me to move to San Francisco and pursue my po
ttery and sculpture.
The females in the lynx clan pass the authority. Although my mother had loved my father and trusted his advice implicitly, it was the old way. Our females are our alphas; they make the final decisions.
Now Dylan is trying to turn our pack into some kind of male-centric group, only interested in men’s needs or desires. She’s reducing us to their subordinates, only good for being at home and making babies. My career, my dreams would always be secondary to Hayden’s. He would force me to be his well-behaved wife, and he’s not even a shifter! She’s perverting the lynx order, and I have the right to fight her power.
Indignation drives me on. I’m not going back there tonight. Dylan can twist in her worry that I’ve left for good this time. The only person I care about is Penny. I hate to make her lose sleep. Still, it can’t be helped.
I’m at the cliffs overlooking The Observatory when I pause to catch my breath and scent the air. It’s a beautiful fall night, crisp and clear. I’ve started to calm when I take a few steps forward, toward the small creek.
Dipping my head, I lap the cool water, and when I lift it again, I scent him. A cat-shifter, and a powerful one.
I don’t move. All the anger swirling inside me disappears as I take another sniff. He’s new to these woods. I’ve never scented him before. Who is he? Why is he here?
Backing into the cover of brush, I can’t help wanting to investigate. I’m curious by nature. Still, I’m small, and while I’m not afraid, my self-defense classes have taught me to be smart.
I’ll see what I can discover before making my presence known.
* * *
Koa
Southern Indiana has never been on my radar. It’s never even entered my realm of possibilities. I’d been making good time across the continent. The weather had cooperated, and I’d only stopped to eat and sleep. Still, when I crossed the Kentucky border, I felt a climactic pull to the north.
I say “climactic” because it had been like a strong wind pushing against my face, forcing me to deflect and move northward into this forest. Slowing my pace, I walk through the darkness, sniffing the damp leaves.
I’m far from the proud panther I should be. Loss and isolation twist together in my chest, making my head hang low. No shifter should be alone. Our kind craves touch, contact. It’s part of who we are, and spending the past decade in isolation almost broke me.
Is that why I went to Slayer? Or Slayde, I guess. We would know to embrace. The shifter way is to touch, whether it’s wolf to panther to bear, any other form.
I needed a hug from my best friend. God, I sound like a fucking pussy. I should kick my own ass. I’m so tired, the thought evokes a loose laugh from me as I continue loping in the darkness.
The ache in my chest is intense, but the fact I can laugh at myself means I’ll survive it. I’ve been surviving so far. I’ll make it back to what I once was.
I round a corner, and an unexpected scent assaults my nose, stopping me in my tracks. I don’t know where I am, but I know what that smell is.
