Malice crowds her, backing her into the elevator wall. He dwarfs her in this form. An urge to pick her up and toss her over his shoulder like a sandbag rises in him. He’d take her right back to his den so he can show her?—
Gods, stupid Cat thoughts.
Aerin’s overlarge brown eyes become comically wide.
“What are you doing?” she all but squeaks. Her Rabbit body trembles, the response of prey cornered by a predator. Malice runs a claw down her cheek, and those big eyes flutter shut.
“It’s nice seeing you like this as well, trembling under my touch,” he whispers. He’s not filtering his thoughts well in this form.
“There are other ways you can get me trembling under your touch, Malice,” Aerin says, standing a bit straighter, meeting his eyes.
His claws flex as he drags them lightly down her neck, leaving trails of redness in his wake.
“Maybe…” Aerin gulps. Malice is rapt in how the marks bloom under his touch. “Maybe being a Cat and Rabbit wasn’t the best idea.”
Malice’s blood sings for her, like a siren call. More than anything he wants to crush his lips to hers. But somehow, his rational brain overrides the call of the Cat and the call of the blood-bond. He drops his hand and one second later takes a purposeful step back.
“The Cat and Rabbit are perfect,” Malice murmurs, taking her small hand in his and leading her out of the elevator. Aerin smiles shyly at him as they exit the apartment building.
They stay hand in hand as they weave through the city, taking a different path than before. Crossing through the wall is easy enough, though the wards pull on him, like moving through mud.
As soon as they are on the grass, Malice no longer feels the small Rabbit’s hand, but rather Aerin’s. Touching her true skin is too much. He drops it. Then he pretends he doesn’t see the way Aerin schools her features in response.
“This way,” Aerin says simply, taking off through the woods.
Malice becomes intensely aware of their surroundings, each sense on high alert. Aerin seems to be single-mindedly heading to her destination, so Malice is vigilant enough for the both of them. Last time they’d been lucky not to run into any Rogues, or worse, a Dark Creature. He isn’t certain their luck will hold this time, and he’s determined to be prepared if that’s the case.
After two hours, they come upon a cave that opens to a small grove. Aerin walks into the mouth of the dark cave, dropping her backpack to the cold ground.
“We’ll stay the night here,” she declares, pulling dehydrated food out of her backpack. She tosses a package to Malice.
Malice held his tongue the entire day, knowing her aversion to answering his questions, but he can’t help speaking out now.
“What are we doing here, Aerin?”
“Meeting someone,” Aerin replies, settling onto the floor.
“There is no one for miles,” Malice tells her, looking at her skeptically. Aerin settles on the ground of the cave, leaning up against the grey stone.
“Don’t worry, they’ll be here,” she says confidently.
Malice takes a lap to evaluate the grove but finds nothing to indicate the presence of others. He comes back to the cave.
“You’re sure?”
Aerin looks up at him, her golden eyes gleaming, “Yes. They’ll be here.”
24
EMRYS
Emrys all but drags his back left leg as he limps alone down an unmarked path. He’s out on a seven-day patrol, and this time Elara only gave him two days’ rest. Little food, even less magic. His fur is thin and scraggly. He finds himself thankful for the summer warmth, even if it neverreallygets cold here in the South. This body Elara makes him wear is reedy and weak, no muscle or fat to keep him protected or comfortable.
Emrys tries not to think of the past as he drags his back leg along. Elara intentionally gave him the injury. Exacerbated by a tumble down a steep cliffside and little rest, the leg is barely functional.
Elara is aware of his added pain, and she allows it to persist. The skin on his foot is raw from being dragged. He knows there is an open wound that will likely draw other predators his way. But it matters little to Emrys what this body endures. He tries not to think about it.
At least the trail offers reprieve from the pack. He’s more likely to be injured by one of the others, or Elara herself, than he is to be attacked out here. The seven-day patrol is his favorite.The longest of all the patrols, it’s a reprieve, even when Elara forces him into this weakened form.
