“No.” I peer into the shadows, my heart still racing. “It was the vampire.”
He growls low in his throat. “Vampire?”
“Yeah—the one that tracked me to the wizard’s house.”
“What was he doing here?”
“Hunting,” I reply grimly. “Hunting me.”
Riker issues a sharp command. “Turn off the fence!”
Without waiting, he yanks off his clothes, tossing them carelessly onto the ground. I blink in surprise, but then something even more startling happens—he starts to shift.
I’d imagined the transformation to be subtle or quick. It’s neither. It’s loud and visceral. Bones crack, reshaping with gut-wrenching precision. Riker groans as his body swells, white fur erupting across his skin.
I stagger back, my stomach lurching at the sight. When it finishes, he is no longer Riker but a colossal polar bear. Roundears twitch, black eyes glittering in the half-light, and thick white fur covers his hulking frame. He radiates raw, primal power.
One guard nods. “Fence is down!”
Riker does not hesitate. The ground trembles under his massive paws as they dig into the dirt, and with a mighty leap, he clears the ten-foot fence. Barbs snare wisps of his fur, but he keeps moving. Nose low to the ground, he sniffs once, twice, then bolts into the night—a white blur swallowed by darkness.
I stand there for a moment, clutching his discarded clothes. “Is he going to be all right?” I whisper to the nearest guard.
The guard does not respond, his expression hard.
Another guard sneers. “Go back to your room, trainee. You will be called soon enough.”
I square my shoulders, annoyance flaring at his tone. Who the heck does he think he is talking to? But I know better than to pick a fight right now. Instead, so Riker can find them when he returns, I fold his clothes neatly on top of his boots, turn on my heel, and jog back toward the barracks.
The steady thud of my feet soothes my jangled nerves somewhat, but my mind is still in turmoil. Can one shifter—even a massive polar bear—take on a vampire? I don’t know.
Once inside, I retrieve my now-cold coffee from where I left it and rinse the cup in the kitchen sink. The mundane act grounds me, yet the worry gnaws at the edges of my thoughts.
I hope Riker will be all right.
I can’t lose another friend today.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The mess hallbuzzes with morning chatter and the clatter of trays as I work through my breakfast sandwich with exaggerated gusto. Across from me, Riker scowls, displeasure radiating off him. He is clearly still annoyed about my late-night run.
I swallow and sigh. “Why are you still glowering at me? You do realise I’m an adult, right? The base—the one you have kept insisting is secure—seemed safe enough. I needed to move, Riker. You understand that, right? Alice’s death was a shock.”
“Oh, I understand,” he growls, his tone heavy with disapproval. “Doesn’t mean I agree with you. What the hell were you thinking, Lark?”
“I thought I was safe, and it wouldn’t be a problem,” I say with a shrug.
“It’s not just about external threats. It’s about these little shits inside too. Any one of them could have hurt you.”
“I wasn’t—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“No, you were not thinking, and that’s the issue. Naturally, you then bump into a psychotic vampire who stopped by for a Lark snack.” He throws up his hands, muttering something about suicidal women.
I shrug again and focus on my breakfast. I’m starving. After last night’s events, I was too edgy to eat, and now my body feels jittery. As I chew, I run a hand over my hip bones, frowning. I’ve been losing weight too quickly, as though my body is burning through itself to deal with all these changes.
“How many calories do I need to eat a day, roughly?”
Riker doesn’t miss a beat. “About six thousand, given your weight and height.”