Page 55 of Fire Bound

“What? No, I’m not going to leave you…”

“Remington!” The roar that comes out of him sends cold shivers down my spine. “Fucking listen to me! No matter what, do not follow me. Do you understand me?” Each word he speaks sounds like he’s fighting to say them, like it physically hurts him to speak. His whole body is shaking now. When I don’t answer him fast enough, he repeats himself harshly, “Do. You. Understand. Me?”

No, I think but instead I manage to stammer, “Y-yes,” to him.

Without so much as a word or a look back at me, he takes off like a bullet down the dark alley wall. I stand there watching him run off until I can’t see him anymore. Every fiber in my being screams at me to follow him, but his warning plays on repeat keeping me locked in place.

I rub my scraped-up palms nervously against the fabric of my black jeans, as I think over my next move. I haven’t ever seen Jax in this state before. Not even when he was shot in the stomach did he break a sweat or become pale. If he can make it through that pain without so much as a curse, it means whatever is happening to him right now is bad.

He told me to leave, but how am I supposed to leave him out there alone when he’s in this state?

He’s made it this far without you holding his hand. He’ll be fine, do what he said,the logical part of my brain pipes in.

I’m just about to listen to my own advice when I hear it and it instantly changes my mind.

A howl.

The sound cuts through the night air like a cry calling to me. It fills my body and spreads to all the cold pieces in my bruised and broken soul. My wolf is going mad in my head, desperate to go to the source of the noise. That howl, while I’ve never heard it before, I know it. I would know it in the symphony of millions, I could pick it out without a second of hesitation. It’s like I was born knowing that howl.

I have to go to him.

My body is moving, feet splashing through the puddles left on the sidewalk and streets as I race for the noise.

Just like howI tracked Jax when I first arrived in town, I follow the lingering scent of him in the air through the edge of town until the brick and concrete buildings are replaced with tall pine trees and the wet asphalt turns into muddy earth. The forested area is smaller than we are used to back on pack territory but it’s still big enough for a wolf to roam for a short time.

In the trees, the scent changes and shifts from human to animal. As I walk farther into the wooded area, I find pieces of Jax’s clothes that he had ripped from his body. I pluck them off the ground and shake the pine needles and mud from them the best I can as I go. In the wet mud, I follow the footprints left.

Eventually the man’s footprint turns into the very large paw prints of a wolf shifter, but these are different from mine or anyone’s in my family.

They’re not just normal paw prints left in mud, they’ve been burned into the ground. Scorch marks accompany each of the outlines left in the earth. Bending down, I trace one with my fingertip, the dirt still feels warm to the touch as I drag my finger around the smoking ground.

“What the hell?” I whisper to myself as I lift my head to look for more. To my side, there’s a trail of them leading farther into the trees. Leaving Jax’s clothes in a neat pile at the base of a big tree, I begin to follow the prints with my heart racing. Unease fills me as I worry about what I’m going to find.

Up until I heard that haunting howl split through the night, I still wasn’t convinced that Jax could even shift. I never allowed myself to imagine what his animal side would be like and now I’m about to face it head on.

A loud yelp cuts through the trees. It’s followed by a few whimpers before the noise is completely cut off. As the wind picks up, the scent of blood fills my nose. Picking up my pace, I jog toward the source of both.

When I find him, I skid to a stop because nothing I could have imagined in my head would have prepared me for what I see before me. His fur is the darkest, deepest black I’ve ever seen. The moonlight that shines through the trees does little to light up the dark coat. If anything, the thick hair absorbs the darkness around it until you can barely see him. Unlike mine or another wolf shifter’s, the coat isn’t smooth and neat. It’s spikey in places, but mainly down his back. Almost like a rabid-looking mohawk. He’s also less bulky than a normal wolf, but he’s taller than any wolf I’ve ever seen. Up until this moment, Ryker was the tallest, but Jax’s wolf has inches on him. His thin, but powerful legs are attached to giant paws. From here I can see the faint glow. As if the pads of his feet are made of the embers left in a dying fire, they flicker as they scorch the ground beneath them.

I was right. He does look like something directly from the depths of hell.

His head is bowed as he tears at the flesh of the small fox he’d killed. A constant unhappy growl comes from his chest as he devours his meal. When my feet crunch on dry leaves when I shift my weight, his head tips up ever so slightly and glowing purple eyes collide with mine. They look so much like Jax’s but I know the second I look into them that they’re not Jax. There isn’t a hint of kindness or warmth in these eyes. These are the eyes of a bloodthirsty predator and they’re not staring at me like I’m their next meal.

My body is filled with the urge to turn around and run from the beast in front of me, but my wolf’s calm demeanor keeps me in place. There is no fear coming from her, not even a twinge of unease. She is completely at peace being stared down by this dark creature.

She’s finally lost it. After a year of such varying emotions, the whiplash caused by them has left her with permanent damage. She’s finally cracked.

I really am going to have to ask Winslow for some psychiatric facilities recommendations, because I’m no longer afraid of things I should be terrified of. Even as he disregards his prey and steps over it, moving toward me, I don’t flee. I stand strong and boldly meet the gaze that holds cold flames.

He moves painfully slow across the space, his head low as he observes me with keen interest. As he comes closer, I raise my hand out toward him, even though I know I’m risking my fingers being maimed. I send a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that my intuitions are right and he’s not going to attack me.

His giant head extends toward my hand and his nostrils flare as he breathes in my scent. He comes to an abrupt stop, his lips curling up, exposing his very sharp teeth. There’s a low rumble in his chest as he slowly begins to circle me with precise methodical steps. I mimic him, making sure I never have my back to him. The last thing I want to do is give him an advantage over me. As it is, I’m pretty sure I’m already at a disadvantage. The power that radiates off him is palpable. It reminds me of the alpha power that comes off of Pruitt when she’s upset. It’s thick in the air, suffocating.

Meeting this side of Jax makes it clear why he’ll never be willing to submit to an alpha and be part of a pack hierarchy. His wolf side is more alpha than any other wolf I’ve met, but Jax’s lack of interest in being a leader would never allow him to be in such a position.

We silently continue our dance with each slow circle, it’s like we are trying to figure each other out. The wolf never turns his violet eyes away from me. I’m not positive he ever blinks. My muscles and bones are stiff, my body on edge, prepared for the chance that this will turn south at any second.

The energy between us is tense with anticipation, like we are both waiting for the other to make a move. His inquisitive and dubious appearance vanishes the second the phone in my back pocket begins to buzz as someone calls me. Like a switch being turned, the beast’s body pulls back, and his head lowers as a terrifying snarl cuts through the air. As he bares his fangs at me, saliva drips from his muzzle.

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