Page 30 of Soulmates
He stops, shaking his mane, exposing his throat. I snap my jaws. That’s what I’d aim for. The throat. He paws the ground. Twice. Three times. If this is a code, I don’t speak it.
Our standoff lasts…some time. My wolf doesn’t carry a watch. I mostly bristle and growl, and the phouka stamps and shakes his mane. Then the crash of heavy feet through the underbrush interrupts us, and he takes off at a gallop.
I crouch, ready to chase.
Heavy breathing, lots of effort, but downwind so I can’t catch the scent.
Wait.
Recognition kicks me in the belly. It’s Trajan.
He’s empty-handed, his clothing is charred, and I squash the impulse to throw myself in his arms. Even my wolf knows leaping at an injured vampire is dumb. Instead, I bark. He stumbles to a halt. The skin of his arms and hands is a fiery red, his cheeks are hollowed, and he smells like smoke and burnt meat.
“Fucking elves,” he mutters, and his knees give out.
I shift, because the wolf can’t help him now. It’s barely ten o’clock, and the air is close to freezing. Even my werewolf ass will notice that kind of cold sooner or later. “Is there anyone coming after us?”
“Nope.”
I debate telling him about the phouka. I probably should, but I can do it later. If the horse comes back, we’ll hear him before we see him, and I’ll shift. First priority, though, is gettingTrajan back on his feet. We have about eight hours till he either needs to be in a vampire-safe room or dug into the earth.
And right now, he is messed up.
He hasn’t moved since he hit the ground. Why is there a “we” anyway? I could shift again, and run, and if ol’ Tony-baby fries at sunrise, it won’t be my problem. I can even put together a reasonable argument, saying the only reason he stood up to my uncle was knowing my father’d kill him if he didn’t.
Except, what kind of person dumps an injured ally, especially one who got hurt saving their ass? A shitty person. That’s who.
Besides, I’ve still gotvampire biteon my bucket list.
I get down next to him and shake his shoulder. He groans, his flesh cold as death. “Come on, Tony. Rise and shine.”
His head wobbles, and with a grunt, he digs his fingers into the dirt.
“Yeah, baby. See if you can sit up.” I put an arm around him and help. Heends up sitting. I’m carrying mostof his weight, but that’s okay. I bring my wrist in range of his teeth. “You’re so cold, Trajan. Feed some, and then we’ll get out of here.”
He grabs my forearm with a grip so tight, it’s like his hands have turned intoclaws. “No.”
“Come on, dude. Don’t be an idiot.”He’s freezing, he’s injured, and we’ve got to move. Feeding only makes sense.
“Get me…” He rasps the next word into the dirt.
“What?”
“Something. An animal.” A rough cough stops his words. “Please,” he whispers.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” This is crazy. No, wait. We’ve gone past crazy into some alternative reality. Tony would rather feed from a rat than from me. I shut my eyes and bite down on some really unkind words. The fastest way out of this mess is to get him on his feet, and if there’s some magic vampire provision against feeding from wolves, I’ll just have to deal.
Okay.I lower him and scan the area. There’s stuff scuttling around out there, easier for my wolf to catch than me. The wolf perceives all living things, picking up their scent and quivery pulse. Other weres ping like a burr in my fur. Pack calls to my soul.
Shifting back and forth is exhausting, but I guess I’ll be able to sleep when Trajan is tucked away. I poke him. “I’ll be right back.”
He grunts. My bones are weary, but I squash my bitching and shift. I don’t bother stifling the heat and the light. I can’t.
My senses snap into place. The dark is brighter. The breeze tells the story of every life it’s touched. The ground echoes with footsteps. I trot around the broken tree, past a mound of huckleberry, then back around, widening my circles until I almost trip over a goddamn raccoon.
A raccoon.
Peering through its black mask, it rises on its haunches, little black hands curled against its chest. Its snarl is meant to be fierce. My wolf is not impressed.
