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I give the rest of the group enough time to arrive back at the main facility before I mumble, “Ah, it’s been hiding at the bottom of the bag the whole time,” then turn to Ty with a relieved smile on my face.
“Glad you found what you were looking for.”
Perhaps he has the same idea I have, which is to steal a kiss on our moonlit walk, because he’s standing more stiffly, kind of like he just dropped into his body and hasn’t read the user manual yet.
Since there’s no need to lock up since we’re out in the middle of nowhere and there’s nothing inside to steal, we’re soon walking along the old-fashioned, raised wooden sidewalk. I stumble on a raised plank, and Ty uses his lightning reflexes to keep me from falling by catching my hand and wrapping his arm around my waist.
After he ensures I’m all right, Ty says, “This walkway must be from the sixties. They should fix it before someone gets hurt.”
Now that the awkward silence has been broken, I gush about how amazing their rehearsal was. The awkwardness disappears and our conversation eases into a comfortable discussion.
We’re so engrossed in our chat that I don’t notice whatever it is that captures Ty’s full attention and causes him to stand still as a statue. The moment I hear it, my blood runs cold and my heart slams against the wall of my chest.
I’ve never heard one before, but that has to be a wolf—and not the splicer kind.
Although Ty has been relaxed at my elbow, he’s on high alert now. Every muscle in his body is hard, and the hair on his exposed shoulders and back is standing on end.
He spins on one foot, his ears perked, and spits an open-mouthed hiss down the alley between the bakery and the bookstore. I’m terrified and have no compunction about letting Ty put himself between me and the wild black wolf I can see in the alleyway shadows. Light from the distant barracks reflects off two wide golden orbs. They narrow dangerously as the wolf steps closer.
I don’t need to speak tiger to know Ty’s hiss means business. When the wolf doesn’t run away, Ty pads toward it and escalates his threat from hissing to a growl so deep and low and menacing it’s terrifying, even though it’s not directed at me.
The male is pure threat as he straightens to his full height, his tail lashing low to the ground. When he takes a step into the alley, I mewl, regressing from using my words to a form of animal communication of my own.
He presses a hand back, low palm toward me, wordlessly telling me to stay here as he stalks forward. When he releases one more growl, followed by rapidly snapping his jaws, the wolf yelps as if he were bitten, turns tail, and slinks off.
Ty stands still, a picture of menace, tail still lashing as he waits for long moments, ensuring the wild animal is long gone. His shoulders lower, his breathing slows, and the stiff hair on his pelt lays flat against his skin, no longer standing on end.
When he finally turns toward me, the expression on his face is pained. Did I miss something? Did he somehow get hurt in that interchange?
“I can call the soldiers if you’d rather I not walk you to your dorm.” His head is drooping, his eyes downcast.
I blink at him stupidly for a moment, my brain just catching up with my rapid heartbeat. “You might have just saved my life. Why wouldn’t I want to walk home with you?”
His claws are still extended in the hand he raises to gesture meaningfully at his chest.
“I don’t understand.” My heart is still slamming against my ribs because of that menacing wolf, but my brow is furrowed in confusion.
“What you just saw, Olivia. Me in my most beastly self. Sometimes it seems you forget my origins and think I’m a man, but the animals I’m spliced with are woven into my DNA. What you just saw—my animal nature—is the very heart of me.”
He finally raises his gaze to me. It’s hard to read him. There’s a hint of bravado, almost a challenge to argue with what he just said. I think most of him, though, is disgusted with himself.
Those people who created him, raised him, and trained him to be some kind of super soldier, what other things did they do to him? How did they mindfuck him to hate the part of himself that makes him special?
Speaking of self-loathing, there’s an interesting debate going on in my mind about myself.
I just watched Ty let his animalistic self come to the forefront. Shouldn’t I be disgusted, or at the very least, scared? I can’t fight the facts, though. I’m more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life.
Although my heartbeat is still elevated from fear, what explains my hardened nipples and the insistent pulsing between my legs?
I could hate myself for my animal desires and fight them, but I don’t want to.
I stride to him like a woman on a mission, then think better of it. Instead, I turn and walk the few feet to the entry of what’s going to be a yoga studio.
“Come here.” I don’t bother to hide my seductive tone of voice. His hisses and growls were dominant and scary, but the chain of events I just called into play might become even more terrifying.
I wait in the shadows in the covered area that’s indented between plate glass windows. It’s a little hidey-hole that I doubt is covered by any of the cameras lining the streets. If Ty chooses to join me here, I’m going to kiss the daylights out of him.
Chapter Sixteen
