Shoulders tense, spine rigid, he took a measured step back and crouched into a defensive posture. The hair on his nape stood on end, and a shiver rippled down his spine in warning when a pair of glowing red orbs suddenly appeared in the center of the cloud.
Stumbling back another step, he released a growl of his own. Instincts screamed for him to run—and as a cheetah shifter, hehad no doubt he could outpace any threat—but something else held him frozen, unable to retreat.
As if in slow motion, the silhouette began to appear, soft and blurred at the edges at first, but becoming sharper as the wind kicked up to scatter the powdered stone. Another minute, the dust finally settled, revealing not a statue, but a fully formed male crouched atop the pillar.
Tangled and unkempt hair the color of midnight fell around his face and down his chest, framing a face made of all hard lines and harsh angles. His glowing eyes stared back at Ruger through the darkness, his gaze eerily intense and laser focused.
Another streak of lightning sizzled across the sky, the flash glinting off his curved fangs and illuminating the litany of scars that marred his skin. Some long and thin. Others thick and jagged. A few looked as if they had only recently healed.
Ruger straightened marginally, his mind a chaotic jumble of conflicting thoughts. On one hand, this couldn’t be happening. There was no way a statue had come to life right before his eyes, complete with dramatic ambiance.
Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel some measure of sympathy for this mysterious stranger. Whoever he was, wherever he’d come from, something terrible had clearly been done to him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, surprised but pleased that his voice sounded mostly steady. “Do you need help?”
The male growled at him again, his sinewy muscles flexing as he gripped the edge of the platform and rustled his wings.
“Easy.” He held his hands up, palms out. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Considering the size of the guy, he doubted he could have if he had wanted to. Even crouched and practically folded in half, he was massive.
Standing a respectable six-two with muscles honed from hours in the gym, not many people intimidated him. This male, however, gave him pause. His sheer physicality radiated feral energy, and his defensive posture flashed danger like a neon sign.
Ruger took a cautious step forward again. A low, threatening growl poured continuously from the male’s dry lips, but beneath the menace, he also caught a fleeting glimpse of confusion, maybe even fear.
“Do you understand me?”
A pause, then the barest of nods.
Ruger exhaled, clutching at the small thread of hope. If they could communicate, maybe they could find common ground.
“My name is Ruger.” He pressed his hand to his own chest, then motioned toward the male, careful not to move too quickly. “Do you have a name?”
A longer pause followed the question, accompanied by a curious head tilt. At least he had stopped growling, though.
“I am Luka.”
His voice was low and raspy, hoarse with disuse, and tinged with the barest hint of an accent. He shifted his weight as he spoke, some of the tension easing from his coiled muscles, and the ring of glowing crimson faded from his irises.
At the same time, the clouds overhead slowed their frenzied churning, the lightning ceased, and their charcoal bellies faded to a pale gray. Ruger needed more information before he decided what connection he could draw from that—if any—but he filed it away as something definitely worth keeping an eye on.
“Do you—”
“Where am I?” Luka shifted again, his gaze darting to the side then back to Ruger. “This is not my home.”
“You’re in Echo Falls, Colorado.” When Luka continued to look confused, he added, “It’s in the United States.”
The lines across his brow deepened, and he tilted his head, almost as if he had never heard of such a place.
“Um, the Americas?” Ruger added, trying to find a term the male might recognize.
“The witches.” Sitting back on his heels, Luka rested his arms atop his knees and nodded thoughtfully. “There are rumors. People say they are boarding a ship for the New World.”
Ruger frowned. If the guy meant what he thought he did, that had been more than four centuries ago.
“Do you know what year it is?”
Luka glanced along the shoreline and back before shaking his head again. “No, but I understand that much time has passed.”
