Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
It’s true. He’s brilliant and well-spoken and knows more interesting facts than Judd and Ewan combined. I let him feel that too.
A rare smile graces his lips. I guess he’s in a gifting mood too. Before I can stop myself, I reach forward and tentatively stroke my fingers through his hair. His gaze darkens, and he swallows hard. Rey’s warm heat seems to escape the bond and lash at my skin. It must do the same for Remy because his pale face reddens.
Because I can’t help myself, my fingers slide down to the mottled flesh on his neck. He sucks in a sharp gasp of air. I’m just remembering how he clung to life those first few hours after rescue when I feel it.
A foreign presence.
Black, cloying, dark.
Cold and evil and menacing.
Fucking die. Die. Die.
“Someone’s close,” I growl, sending a warning blasting through the bond. I’m out of the bed in the next second, a protective stance between the window and Remy.
The bed squeaks as he sits up, and then his footsteps pad behind me. My arm reflexively flings out, keeping him behind me. His small hand curls around my bicep, and he peers around me.
“Judd?” I call out.
“He and Finnick already went out,” Rey says, stepping through the bedroom door. “Ewan is keeping watch from the living room. What is it? We feel it too.”
“Whoever it was, whatever it was has to be the same thing that killed those campers,” I snarl. “And who hurt Remy.”
Violent rage trembles through me. It’s as though they are coming for Remy. Like they might stake a claim on him. Over my fucking dead body. I wrap him up tight in the bond, obliterating any walls he attempts to erect. If I can shield him both inside and out of his head, I will. I’ll do everything in my power.
“Cy!” Rey cries out, her voice choked.
Remy’s fingers bite painfully into my flesh, his fingernails drawing blood. It’s then I realize I’m practically suffocating him. Gently, I ease up on my mental grip, allowing Rey’s warmth and comfort to slide in, repairing any damage I may have caused.
“Stay here,” I grit out. “Don’t let him out of your sight. I’m going out.”
As soon as I exit the cabin, I scan the woods, my ears perked and alert. My wolf paws at me, begging to be freed. Soon. Right now, I need to think, and when the beast takes over, all I do is run on instinct.
A dart of gray flashes past me. Judd has shifted and is on the hunt.
Stranger. Stranger. Stranger. Three. I will. Find. Them.
I startle because it’s almost as though I can hear Judd’s voice. Not a feeling but words. I send my approval through the bond, urging him to chase his lead. Finnick hasn’t shifted, but he’s got a Glock in his grip, peering around a tree a hundred yards ahead. He seems to be circling the perimeter.
My wolf sniffles and nudges me to go south toward the driveway. I make my way over to it and start walking. I’m a half mile down the tree lined road when Judd comes barreling back at me. He shifts mid-run, trading hair for skin and claws for fingers. His nude form comes to a stop in front of me, his chest heaving. The teeth are the last to draw back and become human.
“What is it?” I demand.
His face contorts into a grimace. “The old cabin down the road?”
“What about it?”
“There’s a moving truck in front of it.”
My blood turns to ice. “And?”
“A family moving in.”
“Three of them?”
He nods. “There’s a problem.”
“What?”
“I can’t get a read on them.”
“Shifters?”
“I don’t think so, but…”
“But what?”
“The kid saw me.”
“Kid? Did he shit his pants?”
Judd is intimidating in his wolf form.
“No.” He scowls. “He smiled.”
Remy
Kid. Kid. Kid.
I’d heard through the bond, Judd’s chilled word. But, for me, the presence of strangers was overshadowed by excitement. Is the kid a girl or boy? How old are they? If they’re close, maybe Cy will allow me to be friends with them.
I manage to force myself to sleep, but before the sun even rises on my eighteenth birthday, I’m out of bed, showered, and dressed. I’m eager to go outside and explore, hoping to run into the kid.
On my way to the kitchen to grab a bite to eat, I nearly slam into Cy. He’s dressed in his button-up tan work shirt and jeans. His dark hair has been styled messily, and his scruff has grown out some. All I need to do is wait for him to leave and then I can make my great escape to meet the neighbors.
“It’s cold out,” he says while also signing the words. “You’ll need more layers.”
For a moment, I stall, disgruntled by him knowing my moves before I even make them. At my expression, he frowns.