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He nods. “And if we find something?”

His question weighs heavily in the air, and I feel my shoulders tense. Not noticing my sudden shift, Noah tramples through the thickening brush and deeper into the forest. I’m close behind him, my senses on full dial and my heart leaping in my chest.

If we find something, then what?

I’ve been securing the border every day since the cave, and nothing has shown itself. Not even a whiff of sulfur and decay has seeped into the land. But it was still there. In the early morning breeze, I can still catch the tiniest hint of it.

“Then we’ll turn back,” I reply, feeling how dry my mouth has suddenly become.

We walk together in silence. Noah’s pleased grin doesn't slip from his lips, and his eyes sparkle with delight. And I realize just how much he enjoys being around me, with the little looks he sends me over his shoulder and the way he now outrightly hums cheerfully despite my presence.

My lips stretch, and for a moment we are simply walking together in the woods. Some might even call it a date.

But the light feeling doesn’t last long when a cool breeze cuts through the branches above us and the forest grows silent.

“Whoa,” Noah whispers. “Why’d it go quiet?”

I sniff at the air, drawing it into my lungs and tasting every molecule. Then I catch the scent that has my stomach tightening and my head growing dizzy. Why? Of all days, it just had to come back the moment I let Noah come with me.

My arms are circling Noah’s upper body and I'm slamming him against my chest. “Hush, sweetheart.”

I can hear the way his heartrate spikes and his scent of fear mingles with the sulfuric acid stench that builds in the back of my nose.

“Listen to me very carefully. We⁠—”

Noah cuts me off. “Is that a cabin?”

My gaze follows his, and sure enough, between a sliver of trees, the wooden building of an abandoned cabin sticks up from the forest floor. I’ve passed it countless times and never once have I found anyone to live in it.

But the stench grows stronger, and I can't tell which direction it's coming from. I sweep Noah up into my arms, holding him securely against my chest. His arms tighten around my neck as I slide a hand to the back of his head, keeping him close.

I speed towards the cabin; the forest blurring around us, and Noah gasps as I reach the dilapidated front porch. The door is half open, and I slide inside, shutting it behind us and casting us into darkness.

With only a few broken pieces in the roof, the light of the sun hardly fills the space. My eyes adjust faster than Noah’s, and he has to blink a few times before turning his head to look up at me.

“What’s going on, Xan?” he asks, his voice filled with trepidation.

“Something’s not right,” I respond, slowly setting him down on his feet, hating the way he’s no longer pressed up against me.

The cabin is covered in a thick layer of dust; even the air is fuming with tiny particles that choke the back of my throat as I track the scents surrounding us.

Forcing Noah’s inviting scent to the back of my mind, I pick up on the hundreds of tiny rodents that live in the rafters above our heads, yet I can’t catch a single heartbeat. Usually, these decomposing buildings sound like a swarm of bees with the abundance of minuscule hearts rapidly beating as mice or rats scurry around the place. But it’s dead quiet.

“Should we go back?” Noah’s voice breaks through the air like a knife.

We should, yet as I turn to him I catch the faintest stench that immediately has my eyes watering and my stomach churning. I stiffen, my muscles freeze, and every hair on my body stands on end. With my fangs descending and an ungodly snarly ripping from my lips, I shove Noah behind me, his little frame bumping against the door.

“Stay here.” My voice is gravely, hardly my own. But Noah is quiet as his heart races and his scent turns sour.

“Okay.”

I step forward, deeper into the cabin, testing each footing as if the ground is moments from swallowing us whole.

This was a bad idea. A stupid idea. One that I should never have made. Noah should be 50 miles from this place, yet my stupidity has gotten in the way. I’d passed this cabin less than three days ago and not a drop of the stench had passed by me, yet now it’s bubbling and churning around each nook and cranny.

The floorboards creak and crunch as I take another step, my nails elongating into sharp points as every nerve is my body sirens on high alert. I must protect my mate.

If it weren’t for the dire situation before me, I might have questioned why my mind had jumped to that endearment. Noah, my mate.