Bending Steele (8 page)

“He missed.” Her hand grabbed his arm and
squeezed. “He missed, Hexe.”

The hope in her voice clawed at him.

“Obviously he hit her.” He jerked a hand
towards the snow but she shook her head in the dim lighting, snow
buffeting around them. The wind howled, rattling through the
trees.

“His shot clipped her and clipped her good,
but it didn’t kill her. She ran.” Steele grabbed his arm. “He has
to catch her. If the silver kills her and he’s not there, or she
shifts back, he’s got nothing.”

The trees shook, snow falling so thickly he
could barely see the dark outline of Steele now, even in the light
of his doorway. Thunder gave an ominous roar, closing in. The roar
of the storm snaked through the trees, dark and threatening. “Come
on,” Hexe said, pulling the door to his cabin shut behind him,
instantly blocking out the light. He stepped out into the swirling
snow, darkness encompassing them both. He extended his hand, unable
to see fingers. “Let’s find her before he does.”

It was stupid. They should have gone inside,
holed up for the night. That much blood, with silver in her veins,
the poison would be eating at her. She didn’t stand a chance out
here, but he couldn’t leave her. Not without at least trying. She
was a member of his tribe and she was hurt, he couldn’t leave her
out there with a killer after her.

Then he felt Steele’s fingers brush past his,
clumsy, then her hand found his a second time and she gripped it.
Together, they staggered into the storm, the harsh bite of the wind
burrowing under his skin and left him frozen to the core. Hexe
didn’t know how long they searched, stumbling blindly through the
snow, the frosty gale whipping around them. Trees scraped at his
face, shards of ice leaving his face raw.

The normal quiet of the wintry forest turned
into a roar, wind funneling through the trees until there was so
much sound he could barely hear himself think. Desperate, they
shouted for her. Unable to remember her name all he could do was
shout for her to come back. Only the angry howl of the storm
answered him. Hexe staggered in the snow and Steele hauled him to
his feet, only for her to stumble in return. Together they dragged
each other deeper into the forest, blindly calling out, and
receiving no answer.

Hexe doubted anyone could even hear them.

“I have to shift,” he told Steele.

Her hand tightened over his. “You’ll give him
exactly what he wants. A fucking target.”

“If he can see in this shit then by all
means, he can take the damn shot. But I can’t just leave her out
here.” And he knew Steele would understand, for the same reason she
was out here with him. She could no more run away like her father
did than Hexe could. They had to try and they had to give it
everything they had. “As a leopard I might have a shot at seeing
something out here.”

“Then let me.”

“Like hell.” Hexe tugged her closer until he
could feel her body pressed against his, barely able to see the
dark line of her silhouette in the midst of the storm. “I need
someone at my back in case he takes a shot at me.”

“I have more experience as a cat in these
storms than you.”

He slid his hand up her side, over the thick
padding of her parka until he found her face. His knuckles brushed
down her cheek. He’d known all along the woman under that icy mask
had a heart. He’d wanted to badly to see inside her, to hear her
laugh, see her smile. She was the most determined fighter he’d ever
known. “Watch my back, Steele.”

Before she could protest any more, Hexe
pulled away. The wind ripping between them and he staggered, the
cold seeping right through his thick jacket, and Hexe closed his
eyes and called the beast inside him. The cat rose under the
surface, nothing more than a heartbeat away. The magick stole
through him, his human body, clothes and all, vanished and in his
spot stood a snow leopard. Lifting his blocky head, Hexe inhaled,
and while the ice burned down his throat, Steele was close enough
he could find her.

Even his cat-half wanted to hunker down and
wait out the storm. Animals weren’t stupid enough to keep pressing
on, and the leopard had little interest in companionship or tribes.
He pressed his blunt muzzle against Steele’s wrist and waited until
her hand had stroked down to the back of his neck, gripping in the
thick ruff of his fur before he turned back to his search. Snow
swirled around him, falling heavily. It matted into his fur and
stuck in balls between his toes.

They pressed on, plowing through the heavy
snow banks. His heavy paws sank easily through the soft ground, his
belly dragging along the frozen top. But even as a leopard he
couldn’t catch her scent. How the hell had she gotten so far, so
fast? And the killer too? Hexe paused, staring out into the
darkness. He could see better, but even in this form he couldn’t
see much through the storm.

Hexe twisted around, trying to orient himself
in the swirl of the storm. They’d been out here for at least an
hour, probably more, and the blizzard showed no signs of letting
up. So far they’d been lucky not to stagger off the edge of a
cliff, but they couldn’t continue to press their luck. Guilt ate at
his gut as he stared out into the darkness, the dim silhouettes of
trees shrouded by blurs of swirling white.

At this rate they’d be lucky to find a place
to hunker down and wait the storm out.

“We need to head back. Before we can’t see
anything at all,” Steele said, her voice rough. “Damn it.”

Hexe growled, hating the fact that they were
both thinking it. He wasn’t the kind of man to leave a wounded
woman in the middle of the Himalayas. He wasn’t the type to just
walk away. His lips curled back in a silent snarl, but he turned
into Steele.

He didn’t bother to shift back. Didn’t bother
to tell her the obvious. They might not be able to find their way
back to his cabin. Instead, Hexe struggled down his tracks, trying
to scent their fast-fading trail. Inside, his anger clawed at
him.

He was leaving her. To the storm, to a
fucking killer.

What kind of King did that make him? What
kind of
man
did that make him?

A coward.

“Fuck,” Steele said, fury riding along the
edges of her voice. She let out a frustrated scream, her grip
tightening in his fur.

Hexe paused, waiting for her to still at his
side before he pressed on, but he could hear the agonized rip of
her voice in his head, an echo that wouldn’t stop replaying. They
were giving up. He leaned one furred shoulder into her leg and gave
a soft huff, knowing she probably wouldn’t hear him, but she could
feel his body pressed against hers.

Together they pressed on, Hexe struggling to
follow what was left of their trail, but bitter cold and the heavy
snowfall made it damn near impossible. The frozen gusts burned like
shards of glass down his throat as he scented the hopeless trail.
Shit. He wasn’t about to die out here. Muscles bunching under his
skin Hexe strained forward, hoping instinct would guide him home,
when he caught the sharp tang of blood in the air.

Followed by the rancid rot of silver.

Heart pounding, Hexe shifted back, one arm
flailing out to catch Steele’s. “She’s here. She’s close.”

He spun, jerking Steele with him. They had to
be right on top of her if he could smell her in this weather.
Inhaling, his throat burned but he could still smell the blood. She
had to be right fucking here and he couldn’t see her. She was right
under their noses and—

Steele stumbled, collapsing into the snow.
Hexe started to haul her up when her hand closed around his arm and
she yanked him down. “She’s right here. Shit. She’s so cold.”

Hexe could barely see Steele through the
darkness, just the faint outline of her shadow but he felt around
the ground until he could feel the prone woman under his hands. Her
skin was icy to the touch, frozen. Frantic, he ran his hands up the
length of her arm, over her shoulder, to the hollow of her throat.
“I don’t feel a pulse.”

His heart slammed in his chest and he jerked
his head up, nostrils flaring wide. Was the killer close? Every
muscle down his back went rigid, instantly prepping for a fight.
But no gunshot sliced through the howl of the wind.

“She’s not breathing,” Steele said, her voice
a hollow whisper. “Damn it.”

By the rotting stench that filled the air,
Hexe knew she was gone. The silver had gotten to her. Anger churned
in his stomach. If they’d been faster she might have had a chance,
but in the end, he only blamed one person for her death. The
bastard still out there.

“I hope he freezes to death,” Steele
whispered, her voice nearly stolen by the wind.

Hexe growled. That was too kind a death.

With a soft sigh he bent his head to the
woman lying in the snow, checking for any signs of life one last
time. Nothing. Hexe closed his eyes on a soft inhale. Damn.
Damn-damn-damn. Holding back the rage and frustration burning in
his gut, he blew out a slow breath. “I’m sorry,” he told the woman,
before he pulled himself to a stand and reached for Steele. “We
need to go.”

Storm or not, he didn’t like being out in the
open. There was nothing else they could do for her. As much as he
wanted to, there was nothing to bring her back. The mountains would
bury her in the snow, which was more than they could do. With a
heavy heart, Hexe tried to gauge the direction they’d been heading
in when they’d fund her but it all looked the same. A blur of
shadows and darkness, the sharp scrap of the wind across his
face.

His lips were chapped from the cold and he
already felt frozen stiff, but he didn’t dare change back, nor let
Steele shift. Somewhere in the darkness there was still one more
person alive, one who wouldn’t hesitate to put a silver bullet
through his heart. Hexe ground his teeth at the thought, his spine
suddenly stiff. If he found that bastard first, there would be no
place in these mountains the killer could hide.

“I’m sorry,” he heard Steele say, her voice
soft with regret. Then she stood next to him, leaning into him. Did
she blame herself for that woman’s death? Did she— “I’ll kill
him.”

A surprised laugh sounded from him, more
pained than amused, but he understood the roil of anger in her
voice. “Get in line, sweetheart. She was mine. I was her King. I
was supposed to keep her safe.”

When she didn’t say anything to that, Hexe
shoved on, pressing through the snow. Blindly he staggered through
the darkness, thick tree branches reaching out of nowhere to scrape
at his face, to snag in his coat. He felt Steele beside him, her
hand in his as the struggled their way through the woods, each step
tentative, as if fearing a sudden drop. If he were wrong, they
could be heading straight towards a cliff face.

One wrong step could send them both tumbling
to their death. His skin burned, both from the constant batter of
the trees and snow, and from the cold. Steele pulled up short
beside him. “At this rate we’re never going to find the damn cabin.
We need to hole up somewhere for the night. Let the storm blow
over.”

It was only growing darker, the snowfall
thicker.

Hexe started to agree when he spotted a
sliver of light in the darkness. Lifting his head, he inhaled
through the sharp bite of the storm and smelled home.
Yes
.
Exhausted and defeated, he staggered towards the cabin.
“Steele…”

Light leaked out through a window and Hexe
struggled with the door, ramming his shoulder into the heavy wood
to get it to open. Panting and breathless, they both staggered
inside, only for him to swing the door shut behind them, blocking
out the constant batter of the storm. Steele stood in the softly
lit living room, snow frosted her cheeks, her normally black hair
turned white.

With one hand to his lips, he signaled for
quiet. They both scanned the room, but no one stood out in the
open. He gestured for Steele to check the other side of the kitchen
counter as he moved towards the couch. Half frozen, his body was
stiff, aching with exhaustion, but he stalked across the room
silent, careful to keep on the balls of his feet. No one. He
glanced back to Steel and she shook her head, instead pointing
towards his bedroom.

He waited as she crept towards him, pausing
to lock the door so no one else could follow them in, and then she
eased over to his side. Together they checked his bedroom. Nothing.
Relief sank down into his bones and Hexe wanted nothing more than
to strip out of these snow covered clothes and get warm again.

But one glance back towards his front door
and it stopped him cold. The carnage there brought a dangerous
growl to his lips. A chair was knocked over, wood splintered over
the floor. Blood spotted the hardwood in his doorway. Snow had
blown in and lay in piles, half hiding the evidence of the
struggle, but a table lay smashed. The picture of his parents was
in the middle of the hall.

She’d fought the killer here before she’d
fled.

“He didn’t get what he wanted,” Steele said
softly. “In the end, she didn’t give him that.”

Hexe lifted one hand to rake it through his
hair and froze. His hand trembled. Shit. Steele stepped up beside
him and he startled, the muscles in his back tensing. Readying for
a fight, but she just caught his shaking hand in hers and held it.
Held him, until he stopped trembling.

“You cool?”

He blew out a soft breath and nodded. “Yeah.
Just...”

He waved at the empty room. They’d been in
his house. In his territory. And he’d failed her. “She’s dead and
he’s still out there.”

“Hopefully freezing to death himself.” But
even as she said it, Steele looked at the front door, her jaw
tense. She didn’t like cowering inside any more than he did. She
wanted to be out there hunting down the man who’d attacked
them.