At some point, I slip out of consciousness. A creak from the roof above wakes me from my slumber. Outside, radiant ribbons of pink and lavender fan across the sky.Sunset.By now, the hunt is coming to an end, and the mated pairs are regrouping for what is sure to be an extravagant evening reception. Meanwhile, this ramshackle shelter has nothing to offer me—no food, water, or weapons. I’m shit out of luck.
Gods, why did I stop running?
A draft of wind props the door open, inviting me to see what lurks outside. Dread ices over my spine when a large animal huffs, signaling its presence. My toes curl with anticipation. Another huff, this time hefty and assertive. He has me cornered.
Chapter 5
VESSA
Relief settles in my chest as I peer through the window. Gods be merciful, at least it’s not a bear.
The wolf gazes up at me several paces from the stairs. My mouth falls open when I take in the majesty of him. This beast is the largest lycan I’ve ever seen, with rows of daggers for teeth. Upright ears draw back as he dips his head and lowers himself to the ground, signaling that he intends no harm.
Like a gunshot, a raven squawks and swoops onto the windowsill I peer over. The bird from this morning—did she follow me here as well?
A gust ruffles its inky feathers, ushering a new charge in the air. One look at the menacing wolf and it can’t be refuted. The current . . . it’s electric. Inexorable. Perhaps a nudge of fate. My heart constricts ever so slightly, with a pulse of yearning.
Mate?
I blow into my trembling hands and rise to meet him. I remain behind the entryway for a moment, wondering if the wolf will revert to his human form. Instead, it stays frozen, watching as I make my slow descent.
“Please don’t maul me,” I whisper under my breath.
Equally captivating as he is terrifying, the beast’s color is deep and dark as a winter’s night. Shiny as feathers of the messenger of death. Once we are face to face, I marvel at his cobalt eyes, so intense it’s hard for me to believe they are of this world. Finally, I reach out to touch him, and he closes his lids for a moment, leaning into me as I gently stroke below his ear. The coarse feel of his coat eases the tension in my fingers, the fear pumping in my chest.
I remember then that beneath this magnificent pelt, there is a man. Bright eyes widen with mutual curiosity. With recognition. For that, there can only be one explanation. I draw my next breath and my world tips off its axis. This—him—something about the unfolding moment evokes a sense that I am not the first to witness it. Almost as if it were scripted by the gods themselves.
At the sound of a distant rumble, the wolf jerks its head back. Lifting to his full height, he stalks away from the cabin, towards the tree line that the sun is beginning to set over. After three and a half years, I find myself once again faced with the decision of whether to blindly trust a stranger. And yet, I can’t ignore the protests of my irrational heart, how it longs to know who the Luna goddess has deemed me worthy of. If he is just as striking in the flesh.
Abandoning the cabin, I shudder as I come alongside the giant shifter. I barely reach its shoulder. The beast looms over me, spanning eight feet long—not including its thick tail. Such a stature must have propelled him high up the ranks in his pack, wherever he’s come from.
The beast shepherds me in silence. All around us, snow-dusted pines stand like pillars, their shadows shrinking as the sun creeps downward. Soon, it will become difficult to ignore my pounding head and exhausted legs. But I press on.
I lose myself in a riptide of intrusive thoughts until a wet nose nudges my hand. We have stopped at an opening of trees that reveals a frozen, winding creek. I look to the wolf who is jerking its snout diagonally in the direction of a nearby tree, herding me there. Its trunk is bent at an unnatural angle. Narrowing my eyes, I make out what appears to be a leather jacket carefully draped over a grey backpack. I squat down below the canopy to have a closer look. Rolled inside of the jacket is a map. On the upper right corner, there are three smudged letters. V.A.S.
The wolf nudges the backpack with its nose and opens its jaws, taking the bag into its mouth. Then he trots away, leaving me with his other belongings. I decide to wander downwards along the creek to find somewhere to wait, settling on an old stump that faces away from the creek. Lowering onto it, I take a deep breath, watching my exhale release as a thick puff of vapor. The cold nips voraciously at my scraped palms, ravaging the bare skin.
I don't hesitate to slip the leather jacket over my shoulders. A luxurious mixture of amber and mahogany clings to the material. While it lacks a hood, the interior is warm enough. And shockingly engulfing. At least ten inches of sleeve extend past my hands, which I roll up and bunch into fists to preserve my fingers.
Something rustles up ahead, thumping. A breeze caresses my cheeks, running off with a hint of my scent. Darting back into the forest, I locate the first thick trunk that crosses my path and duck behind it, slamming a hand over my mouth. A dreadful stillness settles over the clearing.
As I draw my next ragged breath, movement in my periphery has me half-screaming into my hand. A towering man holds a finger to his lips, the other arm extended towards me, offering up my white shawl.Don’t scream.
I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Time has stopped.
“I believe this is yours,” he mutters. The deep timbre of his voice is mostly gravel, though his vowels are smooth and precise. Like divots of a steel knife.
My lungs completely deflate. While I’m not sure what I was expecting from the person hiding under the black wolf’s skin, by all means, it wasn’t this.
The male takes a heedful step forward. “Are you hurt?”
I can’t help but gawk at his rugged appearance. Tan skin is a canvas for a wavy golden-brown mane, wide hands, and a straight nose balanced by a moderately square chin. Every inch of him exudes dominance. The stern expression, broad shoulders, and staggering height prove he’s a lycan without question.
“Miss?”
Blinking through a spell of dizziness, my mouth finally falls open. “Nothing I can’t hand?—”
Footsteps shuffle behind us. The male whirls like a blade, pulling a gun from his waistband. A boy, just shy of twenty, stumbles awkwardly, holding up his hands. Naked, his eyes bulge wide, but not at the gun. Something in my protector’s eyes renders him paralyzed.
