I’ve never snarled at Xander before. Never had a need to. He’s my best friend, my brother for all intents and purposes, my beta, but in this second, we’re strangers.
Worse, he’s a threatto her.
His head tips submissively, but his brows remain low. “Sorry for asking,” he mutters, and he turns away, transforming once more.
“Xander,” I call before he disappears. “Sorry.” His ears flick in response and he leaves.
I grip my hair and turn to walk deeper in the undergrowth, finding air untainted withherscent, but who am I fucking kidding with that pointless attempt.
“What is happening?” This I whisper aloud, praying some soul takes pity on me. I’ve never reacted like this about another woman—not even a shifter. With Carina, it comes out of nowhere. She must have cast a spell over me this morning. It’s theonlyexplanation.
Maybe Dad or the elders will know for certain what is happening. Anyone who’ll help get my head on straight. Living like this for a week will not be possible.
A week in which, I suspect, life is about to change.
Six
CARINA
The asshole disappears between trees,leaving me with an assembly of terrifying wolves who turn wolfish gazes unblinkingly on me. A few part their jaws, their tongues rolling forward like dogs.
That’s all they are, I try to convince myself. Puppies. Deadly puppies with the ability to rip my head off.
Unfortunately, being unequipped to interpret animal expressions, I can’t figure out what’s in their heads. Hopefully nothing about making me lunch, because murder by sacrifice isn’t really how I assumed my life would end.
My fingers curl around my cloak, and I think how useless my hands now are without the use of magick. Not that running is exactly in my plans; I meant what I told Mom. If they need something, we’re at a disadvantage not learning what it is. But still…where the hell would a shifter get a potion from to nullify a witch’s powers?
A couple minutes later, Ryder returns as the same large black wolf always seen during my bi-weekly stalking sessions. If he didn’t already state his position, seeing him beside the others would make it obvious. Shifters are naturally a bit larger thanregular wolves, but Ryder stands a few inches taller than the others, an Alpha in every way.
Fantastic. So he’ll be insufferable.
They part to let him through, reminding me of a cartoon I used to watch with the kids, and he stops in front of me to simply stare. Is he waiting for a pet?
Maybe it’s because I’ve spent months observing him by the pond, but Ryder isn’t scary as an animal. Despite the large teeth visible through the slightly parted jaw capable of ripping me apart, the dark depthless eyes meant for stalking, and the four paws with claws that would easily tear through me with one swipe, deep down, I feel he won’t harm me.
It’s a strange sentiment to feel certain of when nothing about this situation is certain. Nonetheless, it reminds me of the electric current that passed over my skin when he touched me earlier—a sudden jolt.
Ryder breaks my stare and gives me his back before lowering onto his haunches. Getting the sense he’s expecting me to climb onto him and understanding this will be the only way since walking to their camp will probably be a fate worse than death, I swing one leg over his body.
Riding a wolf was never on my life goals, but here I am. My cloak tangles around my legs and my dress twists around my hips, making this every level of awkward. It only proves witches and shifters donotmix. His fur tickles between my legs as I settle, getting into what’s the most comfortable position. My dress rides up nearly to my hips, but the cloak thankfully covers me.
He stands to his full height, jostling me further into position. Before I slide off, I make the fur at the back of his neck a handle. He doesn’t give any indication if my grip is too tight—not that I really care.
As he steps to take the lead, a rumbling vibration reverberates between my legs. It sounds like?—
“Did you just purr?”
Ryder swivels his head as much as he’s able to, his wolfish eyes rolling back into his head while his jaw parts, revealing a row ofverysharp teeth. His action is half-playful and half-threatening. Yet, I still feel no fear. Amusement, if anything.
As he moves, a few wolves streak ahead and into the underbrush. If there was a command, I missed it. Even after the thirty-second interaction, the process of the pack is neat, but I suspect it’s only one of many things I’ll soon learn.
Ryder’s speed increases and with a low yelp, I grab him tighter and even lower my chest to his back, before getting taken out by a branch or something. “Oh, Hecate, protect me.”
My prayer is answered by the wolf’s snort and an increase of speed. My face is practically in his fur now. Soft, with a woodsy scent—pine rather than mud.
My thighs and back cramps from the awkward position, and as it creeps later into the night, the day also begins wearing on me. Falling asleep will likely result in slipping off his back, which won’t end well, so every time my heavy lids slide deeper shut, I force them open.
Other than the wind created by his speed, which nips at my fingertips, and my position, the trip is oddly pleasant. It doesn’t escape my notice how Ryder’s deviated a bit from the others, running where there’s less undergrowth.
