She bolted.Faster than she’d ever run before.A lifetime spent chasing wandering cows on her family’s farm and irritated animals at Sydney’s zoos and animal parks meant she knew how to run fast.Right at that very moment Regan figured she was close to breaking not only her own personal best, but the current world sprint record.With a frown, she pushed more speed from her legs.The Lord help her if she needed to run a marathon at this pace.She was fit, but notthatfit.
A noise behind sent her already frantic pulse into acceleration.Damn it.Was he on her tail already?She risked a quick look over her shoulder.
No.Just what appeared to be a kindergarten class out on a field trip with their teacher, the frazzled-looking woman trying to keep twenty-odd riotous kids under control, on the footpath and off the road.
“Miss Bristow.”A squeaky voice called out.“I saw that lady’s boobies.”
Boobies.
The word punched Regan in the stomach and she stumbled, hitting the concrete with both hands and knees.Boobies?Damn it.She’d been so intent on getting away she’d forgot Declan had torn her top.
How the hell could you forget that?His mouth on your nipples felt like?—
She leapt to her feet, the giggles of the children behind her and the treacherous thought in her head making her face burn.Fair Dinkum, she’d let him touch her, kiss her.They’d be on the floor of the motel right now, fucking each other senseless if it hadn’t been for his eyes changing.An excited chill shot up her spine, despite the scorching sun beating down on her.Her pussy pulsed and she scowled.She had to get away.She couldn’t outrun the perfidious ache in her sex, but she could outrun the man she’d left in the motel.For a while, at least.Taking off again, sweat trickling down her forehead and spine, she crossed the road, hugging her tattered top to her body as she dodged more than one speeding car.She needed a phone.
The screech of cicadas filled the morning air like a dentist’s drill, following her every step.She wished they’d shut up.Their noise made it impossible to hear if anyone came up behind her.
Do you think you’d hear him?
Stomach churning, she cast a look over her shoulder.Just an old lady walking a Bichon Frise and a teenage boy resplendent in full Goth attire muttering to himself.No stalking wolf.No hint where she was.She had no idea where Declan had taken her, but she guessed they were still in Sydney.The baking heat, screeching insects and yellow haze told her as much.As did the maniacal way the cars whizzed by, like their drivers were determined to break the land-speed record on their way to wherever they were going.
Or maybe they’re trying to escape a drop-dead gorgeous, Irish werewolf too?
Her feet stumbled again but she caught herself before she fell.Damn it.She had to get her act together.Vaulting a low, brick fence she cut across a corner, and headed down another street, following the main road.She’d come across a gas station soon.It was Sydney Law of Probability Number Two: Every main road had at least five gas stations in a ten-mile stretch.
“Nice arse, honey!”
The shouted words bounced off her as a lowered hatchback filled to the brim with pimple-faced youths shot by, as did their following whistles and lewd suggestions.Something far more important had caught her eye—the green, red and white Caltex star, towering over all.A faint whiff of gasoline tickled her nose and she smiled, pushing out a new burst of speed.
The gas station was deserted when she reached it.The only sign of life a pair of very grubby jeans and worn-down boots sticking out from under a Ford coupe jacked up in the adjoining mechanic’s workshop.She scanned the signage around her, searching for any clue to what suburb she was in.Nothing.
Tossing a quick look behind her, expecting to see Declan or, worse still, an unnaturally large, grey wolf, she crossed the oil-stained concrete, stopping at the Ford’s tailgate.“Excuse me?May I use your phone, please?”
“Pay phone’s near the john, honey,” a muffled voice answered from under the car.
“I don’t have any money.”Regan fought the urge to fidget.Time was pressing down on her like a wrecking ball.“I’m sorry, but it’s an emergency.”
An impatient snort of disgust came from beneath the car, followed by a muttered, “It always is.”The filthy jeans shifted and out shot a man even more filthy, the wheels of his trolley squealing louder than the surrounding cicadas.Sullen eyes glared up at her, contempt etching his grease-smudged face…until he took in her torn shirt and red, sweaty face.“Crikey, lady!”He scrambled to his feet.“Are you awright?”
“Please.”Regan gave him a harried smile.“I need to use the phone.”Apprehension was beginning to get the better of her.ShefeltDeclan’s warm breath on the back of her neck,feltthe wolf’s whiskers feather her sweaty skin.
“Sure, sure.”The man barreled past her, shoving open the connecting door to the store with such force Regan expected the glass to shatter.It didn’t, and she followed him in, the icy bite of its air-conditioner making her fevered flesh ripple into goose bumps.
The man charged around the counter, worried gaze continually flicking to her.“Here.”He held out a cordless phone smudged with greasy fingerprints, and Regan almost smiled in sympathy at the nervous energy radiating off him.“Are you sure you’re okay?Is the bastard who did this to you close by?Do you want me to go get ’im?I’ve got a tire-arm in the garage.Are you callin’ the cops?You should call the cops.”
Regan removed the phone from his trembling grip with her free hand, keeping the other tightly clamped on her torn top.“Thanks.I’m okay.”
“You’re callin’ the cops, right?”
A tight, dull beat began to thud in her throat and she nodded.“I am.”
Peter would not believe what she was going to tell him, but she had to ring someone, and after Declan busted her on the phone in her bedroom, her brother was probably on the verge of a mental breakdown.Pressing her arm against her chest, she punched in Peter’s cell number, gnawing on her lip as she waited for him to answer.Perhaps Declan—if Declan really was his name—had drugged her?Perhaps he’d seen her running from Epoc’s lab last night and followed her, breaking into her home and injecting her with something as she slept.Perhaps?—
Don’t be stupid, Woman.After growing up with Peter and his regular “snake-in-the-bed” attacks, do you really think anyone could do anything to you while you slept?Get real.
Real?What was real anymore?
Declan O’Connell?
