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Chapter Five
Hera
I only had on a sundress, but the warmth of the night still got to me. That was probably due to my time in Larkwood, because I’d grown used to the steady temperature of sixty-eight that they’d kept the academy at.
Of course, maybe it was also a residual unease after my fight with Knox.
No, it wasn’t even a fight. A fight implied we’d yelled or tried to come to some common ground. That hadn’t happened. Instead, Knox had shut a door in my face and locked it. He’d given me no middle ground, no ‘maybe someday’ to hold onto.
And I could hardly blame him for it. Boundaries were important, and Knox deserved to set his.
But didn’t I deserve to set my own as well? To decide what I could and couldn’t accept? The idea of having some half-assed relationship where he hid a huge part of himself from me felt wrong, like a perversion of what I actually wanted.
But we hadn’t figured anything out in the past year, so why did I think a magical solution would pop up now that we had escaped?
Or maybe I’d hoped that he’d see me differently, that he’d realize I could handle him, that I was strong enough to be his partner in every way.
Clearly, that hadn’t happened.
I’d promised Brax I wouldn’t go far, had explained I’d just needed a walk to clear my head before we all piled into a car for days together.
He hadn’t liked it but had agreed—probably because he knew I’d go whether he gave me permission or not. He, Knox and Wade were packing the vehicle Bowen had offered to us, getting ready to leave as we’d promised.
The quiet and solitude lifted my mood. Believing that every problem I had would disappear right after leaving Larkwood had been foolish. As it turned out, my life didn’t become perfect just because I’d escaped.
A sense behind me made my steps slow. It wasn’t a sound, not anything so specific or easily identifiable. Rather, it was the sense of being watched, of having something dangerous and predatory stalking me.
I turned, narrowing my eyes, but I saw nothing in the dimming lights as the sun set.
I chided myself for the paranoia, angry that I’d let myself get fooled by something so stupid.
I tried to shake away that sense before taking another, louder step, as if to assert dominance against whatever false thing my brain had created to frighten me.
Then it happened—I turned again, drawn by another of those senses, only to find the large, shadowed form of a person.
My heart raced at the sudden appearance, my body taking a large step backward from the imposing and frightening presence.
As soon as it happened, they rushed toward me. I snapped and tried to shove a wave of sound toward them, but they ducked to the side, avoiding it.
And without time to send a second blast, with my feet sinking into the damp dirt beneath my feet as I backed away, the person struck me hard.
They took me to the ground, though amazingly despite the large body over me, it didn’t hurt. I didn’t slam down, didn’t strike my head. It seemed as if they’d cushioned me.
After the world settled, when I opened my eyes after the abrupt fall, what I found above me terrified me as much as it reassured me.
Kit.
He was here, outside of Larkwood, but boy, did henotlook happy. That was what made me snap my fingers again, my hands pinned by his larger form but far from useless. This time, the wave struck him, and because he was so close, he couldn’t avoid it. It knocked him off me, sending him flying backward.
When he hit the ground, the motion as graceful as it was frightening, he twisted. As he rose, he took on his wendigo form, his limbs elongating, his fingers tipped with claws that caught the light, his face shimmering until just that flat bone remained, those deep, pitch-black eyes locked on me.
I swallowed hard as I scrambled to my feet, torn between wanting to run to him and wanting to run away. Of course, him having turned made me lean heavily toward the get-the-hell-out-of-here option.
“You left me,” Kit said, his voice so deep it seemed bottomless.
My fear had grown too much, my hands shaking and far too focused on readying myself for another defensive move to even consider trying to sign a response.
Kit stretched his hands out then curled them again, the light of the setting sun catching on his claws. He stood tall, the first time I’d seen him not slouching, not making himself smaller to fit inside Larkwood—in so many ways.
