From the little I could see with my head held tightly, we were running into the open desert. The sky was full of stars, and there was no sign of civilization as far as I could see. No twinkling lights on the horizon, no sounds of humanity. The beast’s heartbeats thumped under my ear, steady and even, almost hypnotic. My eyes closed.
I jolted with the sudden realization that he was about to deliver me, unconscious, to Remo. I shook off the hypnotic lull of his heartbeat and began struggling again in earnest. A bloodcurdling scream tore from my throat as I thrashed and kicked. Then I bit him. It was awkward since only my canines managed to catch flesh, but the beast let out a howl of pain that echoed through the night. I tasted the metallic bitterness of his blood before the beast jerked me—and a small piece of furry flesh—away from his chest. He held me at arm’s length, all four of them, glaring at me. I flinched at the anger in his intelligent yellow eyes.
Then, without warning, everything went black.
Chapter 17
Someone slapped me. Pain exploded in my head, as if thousands of tiny hammers were pounding their way out. My eyes watered with the agony, and I pressed my fists to them, trying to block the searing pain.
There was a roar inside my head, like the insistent buzz of angry wasps. My stomach churned violently, rebelling against every shallow breath I took.
Relax,I told myself.Get a grip.Deep breaths, slow exhalations.
Again.
Again.
Again.
After a few moments, my stomach began to settle, and the relentless hammering started to quiet. The roar, however, took longer. I lowered my fists and was surprised to see Logan’s face, not Remo’s, above mine. His eyes were dark with anger and worry.
“Can you hear me?” he shouted.
I winced and croaked, “Don’t.”
He nodded and shouted again, “What happened?”
I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing, trying to relax my muscles and keep the pain at bay. When I opened my eyes again, I winced slightly at the brief flare of discomfort.
“What happened?” Logan repeated, his voice softer.
Still disoriented, I looked around, registering the stench of rotting food, human waste, overflowing dumpsters, and the tiny noises of scurrying feet in the shadows. I could also hear nearby traffic. I tried to remember how I got there but could only recall being clutched by the eight-foot bear-like monster, running through the dark desert night as if he had just won theprize of his life. I looked past Logan’s head, and yes, it was still dark. The bitter taste of the beast’s blood lingered on my tongue. Where did the beast go? Where was Remo Drammen?
“Roxanne. Can you hear me?” Logan shook my shoulders again.
The madmen in my head erupted into cheers, ready to be released, and bile rose in my throat.
“Don’t,” I said through gritted teeth when Logan reached to shake me again.
His eyes flashed with relief, followed by worry. “Where are you hurt? What happened to you?”
“I don’t know,” I croaked. My throat felt raw from all the screaming.
“All right, one step at a time. Are you hurt?”
I took stock, wiggling my toes and stretching my muscles. Aside from the pounding headache and lingering stiffness, I seemed to be intact. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay. What happened? What can you remember?”
Fragments of memories swirled in my mind: the bear-like beast glaring at me, the bitter taste of his blood before everything went black. I recalled his large paws and massive body, the way he held me so effortlessly while running. I remembered the shouts on the bus before everything had gone quiet, the stray bullet that might have been intentional, and the fact that the general/lieutenant had shot me after all. It was all disjointed. Too much, and yet not enough. And that’s exactly what I told him.
A fleeting emotion flashed on Logan’s face, quickly masked by the anger he was trying to hide. “What about your mother?” he asked. “Did they take her too?”
“She’s human.”
“But did they take her?” he persisted, clearly not ruling out the possibility that the PSS might kidnap a human. Maybe he thought she had tried to help me.
I stalled, unsure how to respond to the genuine concern in his eyes. “What are you doing here?” I asked instead, looking around at the smelly dumpsters, still half-expecting to find Remo lurking about. “Where is here?”