Page 35 of Song Bird Hearts

“They knew to run,” he shrugs. The muscles flex along his shoulders and it draws my eyes. “Just as you should know to run.”

My eyes flick back up to his. “What?”

His lips curl, a dangerous coiled predator. “Run, little star.”

My heart leaps. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t threaten. It’s an invitation.

I stand, my pulse already pounding. “Why?”

A slow smile curls his mouth even more. “Because if you don’t. . . I’ll catch you too fast.”

I take a stumbling step back, my instincts telling me this is a bad idea, especially after my interaction with Knox earlier. But they’re also telling me that it doesn’t matter. None of this matters. If they’re inviting me in, then it is what it is. I’m not forcing anyone. And Wolf? Wolf feels like everything I’ve ever been afraid of and desperate for all at once. I want him. I need him.

“You should know I slept with Gilden,” I blurt on instinct.

Wolf chuckles low and dangerous. “Good,” he purrs. “Perhaps I’ll taste him when I bite.” He takes a confident step forward. “Now. . .run.”

I don’t take too long to debate it in my mind. My instincts take over.

Turning in the opposite direction of the cabin, I bolt.

I’m hyper aware of the predator at my back with every step I take.

Chapter18

Valerie

The forest blurs around me, branches whipping past, roots clawing at my boots, my breath ragged in my throat. I don’t know where I’m going, only that I have to run, that he wants me to run.

So, I run.

My heart slams against my ribs like a war drum as my well-worn boots hammer against the scattered pine needles. The cold bites at my cheeks as the wind tears through my hair, and for the first time in days. . .

I feel alive.

Branches catch at my jacket and my lungs start to burn, but I don’t slow.

Behind me is nothing but silence.

Until, a snap of a twig, a whisper of movement far too smooth to belong to anything human.

I cut left, deeper into the trees. My breath catches on a laugh, sharp, bright, and startled by my own thrill.

Is this stupid?

Yes.

Does it matter?

Not even a little.

I dip under a low-hanging branch, then swear and stumble as a dip in the forest floor catches my ankle. I right myself with a grunt, palms scraped, but I don’t stop.

Another sound, closer.

A rush of air to my right.

I turn sharply, skidding through the damp leaves, breath coming hard now. He’s behind me; I can feel him, the presence too large to ignore. But every time I look back, I see nothing but trees, nothing but the idea of him.

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