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I gingerly pushed the door open when I heard nothing but crickets and tiny animals scurrying. The hinges squeaked, and I winced; the sound might as well be a beacon to whoever was close by.
When I stepped through the door and my sight adjusted to the darkness outside, I took off at a sprint. I could just make out the sound of running water, so I headed straight for it.
My wolf was going haywire. She was upset that I’d left our mate to fend for himself, even more so that he’d pushed us through to abandon him. She wanted blood.
For the first time, I wished we were as seamless as the blessed-blood wolves I’d grown up around, as perfectly balanced as we needed to be. Maybe then I wouldn’t trip after every two steps that I took.
She huffed, and I blanked her out. I had to focus on escaping. My mate had made a request that I intended to fulfill.
I would stay alive until either he found me, or I found him.
15
THE BIG BAD WOLF
Aria
The worst time to have an emotional epiphany was when you were running for your life. Speaking from experience, I wouldn’t recommend it.
I tripped on a branch as the memory of Sariel’s warm lips pressed against mine, the roughness with which he kissed me, surfaced. I remembered his desperate expression as he slammed the hatch shut over me, those hazel eyes ringed with gold glowing back at me, the way he’d cupped my face and stared at me for so long, I was able to ascertain that he was trying to memorize my features.
I tripped again and swore.
He’d been trying to memorize my features in case he never saw me again.
It was madness to even consider that thought. It changed the shape of our first kiss, because what if it would be our last? What if I never saw him again?
I could sense the magic barrier as I stumbled along the creek. My breath was too loud in my ears; I could hear nothing beyondthe sound of my escape, my panting breath, and my pounding boots.
I was close to getting out of Credence’s safe haven, and my wolf was unhappy about it. She was incensed that I’d left my mate, abandoned the other half of our soul like a coward.
Tears threatened to fall, but I batted them away. I couldn’t afford to have anything obstruct my vision.
The way I felt for Sariel could never be fueled by some universal blessing by unseen deities. No, what I felt for him wasreal. The way my heart had pounded when he’d clasped me by the back of my neck and dragged me into his kiss had been real. The way I’d melted against him had been real. The way my heart mourned his absence was real. And while my wolf had known how important he was to us before I did, I think we were now on the same page.
Sariel Ambrose and his temperamental angel wereours, and as soon as we were safe and had a plan, we’d be returning for him. If that meant facing his psychotic father and his band of merry-go wolves, then so be it. There was no future where my wolf and I moved on with our lives while Sariel was in their clutches.
The creek vanished. I didn’t slow as I ran right through Credence’s barrier, despite my ears popping.
I ran until I couldn’t anymore. I had no idea if I was still in King Charles. I didn’t even know if I was still in North Carolina.
My muscles ached as if I’d just run a marathon. I was bent over, my hands on my knees as I tried valiantly to catch my breath, when, all of a sudden, a twig snapped.
I froze.
Even my breathing halted. In the stillness that followed, I noticed the unnatural silence of the forest around me.
No sound came from the surroundings aside from the gentle rustling of the wind in the trees. No birds chirped in the trees.Bo insects scuttled across the forest floor. No paws or hooves echoed off the foliage. It was like the whole place had frozen alongside me from the sound of that snapping twig.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” a dark voice whispered.
I’d known the silence meant bad news, but I’d still been hoping that the predator responsible for the silence was me.
When you spend your whole life with a wolf sharing your consciousness, you begin to see yourself as the wolf in all those stories where wolves were the bad guys. It was unsettling to suddenly be one of the three little pigs.
While my wolf scoffed at the notion, I—Aria Gribald, the human—understood that at this moment, the bigger, badder wolf was Tyler Bastille. And he was hunting me.
His scent was so achingly familiar, it made my wolf antsy. She wanted control. She felt like she had unfinished business with him; business that I was clearly not privy to.
