I turn to Luke. “I volunteer to answer the challenge in your place and fight as your proxy.”
Sixty
Keir
Onanintellectuallevel,I’ve always understood the concept of the fight-or-flight response, but not until this moment did Ireallyget it. Wolves don’t often feel like prey, but there’s something about abject terror that can kick someone into motion no matter the species.
Every system in my body goes into high alert, my pulse picking up, my muscles tensing, and my mind going blank except for a single urgent thought.
I have to get away.
My gaze instinctively darts around the room, cataloging the potential escape routes. The front door. One guard. The stairs. Two guards. The doorway leading toward the back of the house…
No guards.
The guy who searched out the crackers for me is away from his post, standing by the stairs chatting with Francis. My breath catches and my brain latches on to the empty doorway, pulling my hopes along with it.
If I can just…
“Bathroom,” I mutter, clutching my abdomen like I’m about to be sick, something I’m not so sure I have to fake. My stomach aids in my deception with a convincing gurgle.
I jump to my feet and head toward the empty doorway. Doc makes a noise of protest, but subsides when I gag on the bile in my throat as I stumble into the kitchen. I make it to the counter—there’s no bathroom in here—just in time to vomit what little I’ve eaten into the sink. Though still queasy, my stomach settles, but I make an exaggerated gagging noise, then spit into the sink as I slide my gaze toward the living room.
Nobody followed me.
I force out another retching noise, then groan and spit again before turning on the water full blast and casting another glance in the direction of the other shifters.
They’re still in the living room.
I can work with this.
The sound of the tap won’t be loud enough to cover what I need to do, but it will give me a few extra seconds before they’re on to me. Water still running, I tiptoe to the back door. Ever so slowly, I turn the knob, wincing at the click it makes as the door unlatches. I dart back to the sink and make a couple more gagging noises as I slide out of my clothes. Just as my pants hit the ground, there’s the sound of raised voices from the front of the house.
I’m not waiting around to find out what that’s all about. Instead, I use the distraction and quickly shift, then nose the back door open before running as fast as I can across the yard. They’re going to figure out I’m gone and be on the chase eventually. Hopefully, that happens later rather than sooner.
I ignore my surroundings, not bothering to look around as I run. The only place I want to be isaway. My heart beats frantically in my chest and it isn’t long before my tongue hangs from my mouth as I pant with exertion, but another burst of fear pushes me into a slightly faster pace.
A stand of trees appears over the next small hill and I change direction to head toward it. The spindly trunks won’t provide much cover, but it’s better than nothing. The last thing I want is to be hit with another one of those darts, and at least I won’t be out in the open.
I swivel my ears, trying to catch any sounds of pursuit, but all I can hear is my own panting breath echoing in my head. Lifting my head, I sniff at the air. Unfortunately, I’m not as well acquainted with my wolf as most shifters—being in hiding means I haven’t spent as much time in fur as other shifters my age—so I’m not sure how to interpret everything I’m smelling.
So, I just keep running.
And running.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been moving before the almost blind fear that propelled me gives way to exhaustion. My legs crumple underneath me and I flop to the ground on my side. My tongue lolls from my mouth and I pant heavily as I try to figure out what to do next. Gradually, my heart rate slows, and my lungs stop struggling for air. I sit up, glancing around to take in my surroundings.
Of course, I have zero idea where I am. But, on the bright side, that means no one else does either, and I still can’t detect any signs of pursuit. Which, now that I think about it, is strange.
And more than a little concerning.
I push myself up onto my paws and lift my nose to sniff at the air. Nothing out of place that I can tell. Well, I’m not going to take this reprieve for granted. The best way to use this time is to get back to Julien.
But how the hell do I do that?
The bite on the back of my neck pulses with my heartbeat, pulling up a memory of Julien, or maybe Remy, saying something about how the mate bond can be used for tracking. I suppose it’s worth a shot. Closing my eyes and stilling my body, I concentrate on the feeling of my bond with Julien, the fluttering of what could become love, the safety I feel in his presence, and that instinctual urge to be near him.
I take a step forward, letting instinct guide the direction, and it feels right somehow. Another step. And another.
