Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I glance from side to side, speeding my steps. The road is uneven, but I’m wearing sneakers that cushion my feet.
A bird calls from the canopy, an eerie sound that seems to echo further than it should. I’ve never been uncomfortable outdoors. My pop used to take me hiking, and I learned to fish on those trips, too. I’ve always found that being close to nature brings me a sense of peace and tranquility, but this experience is nothing like the happy, outdoorsy weekends of my childhood. The back of my head tingles like a warning, and I turn, whipping my head back and forth, scanning the bushes closest to me.
Is there an animal out there?
The presence of bears has made me paranoid.
I shake my head and keep going. Once I’m on the main road, I can hitchhike. Truck drivers take this route through our small town and on to the city beyond. I’m sure one of them will be kind enough to bring me closer to home.
I need to get that far so I don’t run into the Bjorns on their way back.
What drove them to leave in such a rush? They didn’t even consider that I might not hang around. Or maybe they did, and they didn’t care? Perhaps they’re so confident they can find me wherever I go, they left me as a test? Maybe all of this is to find out if I’m loyal and if they can trust me to be their mate?
I’m failing that test for sure—not that I’m untrustworthy. There’s no way that I’ll tell anyone their secret. No one would believe me, anyway. We’ve all read too many children’s books to believe that anything like it could really be true. Maybe that’s why those stories exist—to cover up the truth with a veil of the unreal.
Hiding in plain sight. It’s a tactic that seems to be working for them.
For all the strangeness of this situation, there’s no way I’d want them to be hurt. If anyone found out, they’d be locked up and tested like lab rats. The Bjorn triplets are good men, and they don’t deserve anything bad to happen to them.
The rumble of traffic ahead increases in volume. I’m almost on the home stretch, and I should feel happy and relieved. I run to get as far away from all this crazy as I can, but in my chest, my heart aches. I feel a tug inside me that shouldn’t be there—a tug to go back.
I turn, but the mansion was obscured by the trees long ago. There’s still time to change my mind. Robert’s and Evan’s arms felt so good around me. When I was with them, the empty parts of me felt fuller. I can feel that way again if I just retrace my steps, but as I’m standing filled with regret and confusion, a rustle close to me makes me jump.
A hand goes around my face.
The smell of the cloth that's held over my mouth and nose is sweet, and I’m limp before I even register what’s happening.
Like sliding into a warm bath, my consciousness eases away to blackness.
26
HUNTER
Shifting back from an animal is less comfortable than becoming a bear. The retraction of bones and condensing of skin and sinew into a smaller form results in more pain. Shifting from a bear brain to a human brain is disorientating. We communicate through our minds when we’re bears. I have to remember to speak out loud when I’m newly human again. When we’re bears, I’m directly connected to my brothers. When we’re human, that connection becomes more tenuous, and I feel isolated in a way that prickles beneath my skin.
The air is cool against my naked body as I rise from a crouch. Steam rises as our temperature adjusts. I glance at Robert as he punches the code into the hidden external key safe. It’s the only secure way to get in and out of the house when we’ve shifted.
Inside, we dress, and Robert jogs up the stairs to check on Goldie. I wait at the bottom for him to knock, wanting to hear their exchange. When there’s no answer from inside the room, he throws open the door and curses. “She’s gone,” he says.
“What do you mean she’s gone?”
“Her bag and suitcase are gone,” he says.
“Fuck.”
Evan rushes into the kitchen like he expects to find her rustling up dinner, but even before he curses, I know she’s not there. We told her she was in danger, but she still chose the danger outside these walls over her perception of the danger inside them. She chose to risk her life with strangers rather than try to live with her mates. My father will be turning in his grave at how badly we’ve handled her arrival.
“Her car’s still here,” Evan points out. He jogs outside and returns with her suitcase. “She left on foot.”