Page 118 of Hawke

“I’m hiding in the tree!” I replied to him. I swung my feet excitedly as I watched him.

Tyr bowed his head, his paws moving almost in a dance as they touched the ground. With his head held high, he trotted off into the depths of the forest. “Good girl, now stay up there.”

“You won’t always be the boss, you know?” I replied, trying to keep a playful demeanor.

“Stay,” he growled.

I went to snap at him, but my wolf intervened, pulling my—our hand over my lips. “That’s enough, or we won’t be able to help Bram.”

I felt a sudden jolt in my chest as my heart skipped a beat.

Right, we were going to be sneaky and get Bram out of there.

But first, we had to get out of this tree.

“Now, you can’t just jump out of the tree, we aren’t a feline–”

“What? A feline?” I scratched my head.

My feet continued to dangle over the thick branch, my hand grazing over my now un-furred legs. It was quite confusing how it came and went more frequently. I was really beginning to have an identity crisis.

“There are more than just wolf shifters, Delilah, there are also felines such as panthers. Beretta is a panther.”

I blinked, staring off into space.

That made so much more sense. She was so graceful—how her eyes reflected the light, catching things before they fell, her reflexes, her beauty.

I mean, of course there would be more shifters other than wolves. There were wolves, warlocks, witches, vampires and—

My wolf yipped in my ear. “You will have more time to gawk at your new world later. For now, you need to climb down.”

I waited for Hawke to pass us, giving him a pretty little wave as he went deeper into the forest. Most likely to kill the squad.

I climbed down as quickly as I could and raced across the clearing, avoiding the guards. I wasn’t out of breath as I approached the back side of the cabin. My feet were unmarked by any scratches from sticks or stones.

I tried to concentrate on everything else. Being stealthy, being hidden, and not being caught by—him.

Over the past several days, I’d noticed my senses had heightened dramatically, but now my skin had taken a dramatic new turn. I really hoped I was close.

I looked at my fingers, placing them on the splintered log window. No splinters pierced my skin, and it didn’t even feel rough to the touch. I raised my head to peek inside. Of course, there he was, but still my heart sank to my stomach when I saw the back of his head.

Shane.

And after just two years of being away from him, I was still afraid of him.

He had never yelled at me. But his voice would be cold and heartless when he was disappointed with me. It was worse than being yelled at. And with my, well, obvious praise kink, I now understood why it hurt me worse than the yelling. I hated to feel like I was a disappointment to anyone. I hated to feel less than with anyone.

He knew it and used it against me.

I tapped my finger on the wood, just enough to prick away the nervousness.

How was I going to get inside? How was I going to get Bram away?

There was a knock at the door, ripping Shane’s attention away from Bram. The clicking of his expensive Italian leather shoes echoed off the wood floor.

And that was when I saw the kind-hearted warlock.

Bram was tied to the chair, his head hung in a defeated position. How was he tied, just sitting there? Could he not let himself out?

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