Pride's Run (21 page)

I search his face. “What?” I ask, trying to
keep my tone casual, my body from pulsing.

He grabs my hand, picks up our backpack and
takes me to a soft spot on the hill. We plunk down on the grassy
slope and he reaches into his bag. He pulls out a pen and paper and
hands them to me.

“Why don’t you draw something?”

I stare at him, completely unprepared for the
emotions this gesture brings out in me.

I stumble over my words and ask, “How?
Where?”

His dark brow shoots up, like he’s surprised
by the question. “You’re always poking around in the sand with a
stick, so I grabbed those back at the campfire.”

His observations take me by surprise, even
though I realize they shouldn’t, and pull me up short. I stare at
him, dumbfounded.

“You might want to close your mouth, Pride.
The flies are out tonight.” With that he laughs quietly and sprawls
out on the ground. He spreads his arms and legs wide and as he
breathes deep he stares at the mosaic of stars overhead.

When his lids slip shut, I continue to stare
at him long and hard, then turn my attention to the paper and begin
to sketch. We don’t speak, not for a long time, then I finally
break the quiet.

“Someday I’d like to try painting.” I’m not
sure what compelled me to reveal that private detail about myself.
Perhaps the planets have aligned themselves just right or perhaps I
really want to share something personal with Logan.

His voice is soft and his eyes are still
closed when he says, “Painting can be cool.”

This surprises me. “You’ve painted?”

He opens one eye and peeks at me. “Sure. In
art class.”

We go quiet again for a moment and then he
props himself up on his elbow. “Why do you always draw the
ocean?”

I shrug. “There is something about the ocean
that reminds me of freedom.”

“Someday we’re going to go there then,” he
says matter-of-factly as he plops back down on his back.

I swallow hard and while I appreciate his
offer, and as much as I’d like to hold out hope that someday we
could actually go to the beach, I don’t. In a few short days, once
we clear the woods, lose the hunters, and make it past the full
moon unscathed, I’ll be gone from his life forever.

As I glance at the boy spread out on the
ground beside me I can’t deny that I’ve enjoyed his companionship
and appreciate all he’s taught me over the last few days, but I
also can’t deny that he’s becoming something more to me than I
should have allowed.

Logan rolls onto his side and his voice turns
serious. “About tomorrow night.”

“What about it?” I ask.

He moves closer. “You’re going to have to
listen to me. To do exactly what I say.”

My hand stills over my paper and as his touch
seeps into my skin it elicits a shiver from deep within.

“I can’t guarantee it,” I answer honestly. “I
wish I could but I can’t.”

A growl rips from his lungs and pewter flares
in his eyes. “If we’re going to make it through this, I need you to
listen to me.”

As I feel his tension, my blood pounds hard
and I glare at him, wondering exactly what it is he’s planning. My
mind shifts through all the situations he might think it’s going to
take to keep my wolf from attacking.

“I’ll try.”

“You’re going to have to do better than
that.”

My stomach quivers. “Okay, then yes,” I say,
only because that’s what he wants to hear, not because I believe
it. Deep down I don’t know if I can do what he asks of me.

He rolls onto his back. “Good.” He goes quiet
for a moment then takes me by surprise when he asks, “Are there any
other wolves you can communicate with in human form?”

“No,” I answer.

Darkness moves over his face. “Why do you
think you have that connection with Stone?”

“I don’t know.” I look at him carefully, and
there is something in his expression that has the hairs on my nape
tingling. “Do you?”

Instead of answering he asks, “You both grew
up in the compound together?”

“Yes.”

“And he wants you to be his mate?”

“Yes.”

“And you never wanted to be his?”

“No. He was cruel and aggressive.”

Before I can ask him what he’s getting at a
twig crunches in the distance and we both still. Logan looks at me,
a silent exchange as we both take a second to assess the danger.
Logan goes up on his feet and crouches low, bracing his hands on
the ground as he sniffs the cool air. I drop my pen and paper and
pull the forest into my lungs, but when I catch a very familiar
scent, one that has my hackles rising, my heart goes to my
throat.

Stone!

I jump to my feet and spin around, trying to
pinpoint his location. I know I should be afraid that he’s tracking
us, and I know I should probably flee, but my instincts dictate
that I go on the offense, not the defense, and run after him. I
need to get to the bottom of matters with him once and for all.

As I prepare for a face off, my canines push
through my gums. I begin to walk toward his scent but Logan grabs
my arm to stop me.

“I’ll go.”

“No. This is my fight.”

His expression changes, darkens, and I can
tell by the look he’s aiming my way that he’s not about to let me
out of his sight. His turbulent gaze brushes over the menacing
forest then turns back to me.

“What if I’m wrong, Pride? What if he wasn’t
protecting you?”

“What if you’re not? What if he can help
us?”

“What if it’s a trap?”

“I have to know.”

I pull away from him and dash into the woods,
but Logan is right on my tail and following close behind me. I
sniff the foliage until I come to a spot where Stone’s scent is the
strongest. I stop, spin around, and peer into the darkness, but
Stone is nowhere to be found.

“He was here.” I point to my feet. “He was
right here.” I try to calm myself because my voice is bordering on
hysteria and under the circumstances I can’t afford to let my
emotions get the better of me. I shuffle around, confused. “He was
watching us.”

“And now he’s gone.”

A shiver runs through me to think Stone had
been so close, watching. Listening. So why didn’t he attack?

“What could that mean?” I ask.

Logan’s look is dark, piercing. Deadly. “One
of two things I guess. He either felt outnumbered and left to get
help, or he’s letting you go.”

I try to wrap my brain around those two
possibilities. “The Stone I know would never let me go.” I think of
the dress, his years of aggression toward me, and Logan’s theory
behind Stone’s actions. Is it possible that I could have been so
wrong about him?

“Then if he shows up again, I’ll kill
him.”

I swallow at the calmness I hear in Logan’s
voice and it simply reminds me that he’s a dangerous alpha, a
skilled hunter. A predator, who, when threatened, would kill in
seconds flat, without an ounce of hesitation.

“Either way, we can’t stay here,” he
says.

“It doesn’t matter where I go, he’ll track me
by scent.”

“Then we’ll keep moving, and stay one step
ahead of him.”

I nod, and because I’ve never trusted Stone,
and decide I’m not about to now, I think it’s a good plan.

With that we pack our bag, hastily shoving
our supplies into the various compartments before we take off on
foot. We can cover more ground if we travel on all fours but we
don’t want to leave our supplies behind. That, and the PTF will
most likely be looking for two wolves.

As we push through the thick foliage and lose
ourselves in the night the moon filters through the heavy leaves
overhead. My joints ache like mad and it reminds me that come
tomorrow night, I’ll no longer be the only undisciplined wolf out
here, running free for the first time on shift night.

Will the handlers reel Stone in before he
morphs or will they send him after me when his wolf is at its
strongest? Even if Stone isn’t out to harm me—and the jury is still
out on that—will his bloodlust takes over or will his wolf have
what it takes to back away a second time?

August 29
^th
night of full moon

W
hen the sun begins
its early morning ascent, Logan and I stop running and collapse
beneath a towering oak tree. As I steal a glance around to assess
the area for signs of danger I feel like a taut bow ready to snap
at any second. Every muscle in my body is tight and as the waxing
moon pulls harder and harder at my wolf I can feel my patience
wearing thin.

“Let’s get a drink and go hunting,” Logan
suggests when he sees the troubled state I’m in.

I nod, and wipe the moisture from my
forehead, but know hunting is only a temporary distraction. At the
end of the day, it’s going to take a lot more than a simple
diversion like hunting to keep me from going against my nature.

We spend the day stalking prey, running and
working hard to fill our stomachs. As we fully exhaust our bodies I
wonder if this is all Logan has up his sleeve. If so, then I
believe we’re going to be in a heap of trouble.

When I tire of his tactics I decide to draw,
but can’t seem to keep my concentration for any length of time.
Restless and edgy, I toss the pen and paper aside, and track along
the edge of the snow-packed summit.

The hours slowly slip by and throughout the
long day Logan doesn’t trail too far from me, and I note the way he
keeps me under his watchful eye.

I pace impatiently as he assembles the tent
deep in the thick of trees, hidden from view, and can feel the
worry in his gaze when he looks at me. And I can’t help but think
he should be worried. Not only for those hikers, but for
himself.

Looking for a distraction, I climb to the
peak of the mountain and stare at the rough terrain still ahead of
us. My breath turns to fog in front of my face as my eyes search
the landscape. Not too far off in the distance I can see a hint of
civilization. As I zero in on the buildings, my pulse leaps with
hope, understanding we’ve almost made it to the other side of the
park.

Tomorrow if we rise early and hit the trails,
I’m sure we can reach the Canadian border before dark. We’re so
close I can almost taste the freedom. But then another thought
strikes. A darker one. Does Logan have what it takes to tame me so
we can both make it out of here alive?

I guess I won’t know that answer until
tonight, when we’re both under the power of the full moon.

I pull my coat tighter around me to ward off
a chill as I jump from the peak and watch Logan walk around our
makeshift camp. As he moves like a predator, with one eye on me at
all times my heart misses a beat.

We’ve grown close over the last few days,
closer than I should have allowed, and I really don’t want to turn
on him. I also can’t risk him turning on me. After all, at our core
we’re animals ruled by instinct and survival of the fittest. Then
again after everything we’ve been through, my gut tells me this boy
would never do anything to harm me.

I wish I could say the same about myself.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek hard
enough to draw blood. Maybe I should go, run, flee the safe haven
of his arms and get as far away from him as possible. And I can’t
forget about Stone. I dart a nervous glance around the woods. If
he’s out here stalking me, aren’t I simply putting Logan in more
danger by staying close?

“Don’t even think about it.”

I spin around and gasp when I find Logan
invading my personal space. His overwhelming presence throws me off
balance and practically steals the air from my lungs.

“What are you talking about?” I question.

“You’re not going anywhere, so don’t even
try.”

My joints take that moment to ache and when
the moon pulls harder, awakening my hunger, I realize how dire the
situation is.

“How did you know?”

“I might not be Stone but that doesn’t mean I
don’t know what you’re thinking.”

There is something in his voice when he says
Stone’s name. Something that makes me think he’s envious of my
ability to communicate with Stone.

“You’re not safe with me around,” I say.

“I’ll take my chances.”

“What if I—”

He offers me a reassuring smile and it
doesn’t only mess with my body, it messes with my brain. “You
won’t. I can help you, little one.”

Having grown fond of his nickname for me, I
can’t help but smile. “You’re pretty sure of yourself.”

He drags me to him and his face softens when
he presses his lips to my forehead. “I’m also sure of you.”

“Don’t be,” I say and note the sudden urgency
in my voice, one I’ve never heard before. Frustrated, I lightly
pound on his chest and add, “Unless you have some tricks up your
sleeve that I don’t know about.”

He rolls one broad shoulder and I note a hint
of nervousness in his voice when he says, “Maybe I do.”

As I watch him I realize I’ve only heard
uncertainty in his voice one time before, and that was when we were
alone in the tent. “I sure hope so.”

He grips my arms and inches me back. The
warmth in his eyes ignites a fire in my stomach when he says, “Make
sure you concentrate on my voice only, okay?”

I open my mouth to speak, but slam it shut
again when I hear a noise in the underbrush. Logan and I turn to
catch sight of a rabbit as it darts past our tent.

When my wolf yelps, wanting to be unleashed,
to take chase at the first warm-blooded thing she sees, I know in a
few short hours we’re all going to be in serious trouble.

I step away from Logan and continue to pace.
When I come across the backpack I root around inside and find the
last of our provisions. A cinnamon-coated granola bar. I tear it
open and split it in half. I hand Logan his share and chew slowly
on mine as I once again lose myself in my own thoughts.