Chapter 29
CADE
Barney was running around, back and forth in front of a long, narrow patch of briars, wagging his tail and whining. "He's making game," I told Jess as I moved through the tall grass, my shotgun at the port arms position. "Hurry. We're almost out of range."
She followed.
"The birds have been feeding in the grass, but now they're retreating into the thicker stuff." I slowed to a quiet, careful walk now that we’d come up a few yards behind the excited dog, who was looking for a way through the briars to get at the birds. "They'd rather run than fly, but they'll fly if they think there's no alternative."
"Where are they?” She mouthed as I stopped and remained motionless, watching Barney.
"There. Wait. Any second now."
Barney looked back, wagged his tail harder, then turned and plunged into the briars. I raised the shotgun to my shoulder even before the clap of wings. Three things happened in quick succession: I identified the bird as male and fair game, I took aim, and my finger froze on the trigger as I envisioned the expression that would cloud Jess’ face when my prey tumbled from the sky.
The pheasant flew on, and my gun barrel followed, but in a split second, the shot changed from easy to difficult. A moment later, the damn thing was out of range.
I lowered the shotgun. Barney, looked back toward me, as if to say, "Hey, what happened? There was supposed to be a boom and that bird was supposed to fall down and I was supposed to run and fetch it. I did my job. Why didn't you do yours?"
But Jess smiled at me. And then she moved toward me and enveloped me in a hug. "Thank you. You could have killed him, I know. But he was beautiful. Thanks for letting him live."
Shit. What the hell had just happened? I should have taken the shot. Why hadn't I pulled the fucking trigger?
"It was the wrong thing to do. I confused the dog."
I’d invited her along because things had gotten to a certain point with us—the point where, to my mind, we either moved closer or we moved apart. I’d wanted her to see the primitive, elemental side of my nature. She wouldn’t shift and run with me. She wouldn’t acknowledge the predator. This was the next best way. I wanted her to accept me for the man I was.
Fuck. What kind of sentimental fool was I turning into?
Look at her, grinning, almost gleeful. She thinks she knows me, she probably thinks she’s tamed me. But guess what? She’s wrong.
If I’d been alone, that bird would have been supper.
I stalked off to find Barney, to praise and reassure him. I shouldn't have brought her hunting. Damned if I’d do it again.
Fifteen minutes later, Barney was into another bird, and this time I didn't hesitate. I moved quickly in the wake of the dog, leaving Jess behind, making no attempt to wait or explain or palliate the experience for her. This is me, I felt like shouting at her. I love hunting. Fuck, I’m a wolf, an alpha. This is what I am.
When the cock pheasant flew this time, I had the shotgun to my shoulder. It was smooth and sure, like a thousand times before, perfect: The arc of the creature's flight, the swing of the gun, the gentle squeezing of the trigger and the cartwheeling plunge of the bird from the sky, carefully observed both by me and by my dog.
Even before the body hit the ground, Barney was running, and for several moments both bird and dog disappeared in the thigh-high meadow grasses. Then he came bounding back, the bird held gently between his widely spread jaws, his retriever instincts arrowing him to his master. With great solemnity and pride, he presented me his trophy.
"Good dog," I praised him, patting him and taking the bird, which was cleanly dead. Even seasoned hunters tended to feel a twinge of guilt over the game we didn't instantly kill. "You did everything right that time, Barney. Last time, too, for that matter. You're awesome, boy."
Only then, after making an appropriate fuss over the dog, did I turn to Jess, who’d lingered several yards behind. Walking back to her, I could see that she was pale and stiff-limbed. There was an unnatural shimmer in her eyes.
Staring at the dead pheasant, she shook her head. "I'd like to go home now, if you don't mind."
"Fine. We've got supper. Let’s go home."
Her gaze dropped to my bird. She started and one hand went to her throat. She gasped, and pointed at the bird, whose feathers were ruffling in the stiff wind. "It's not dead. Oh my god, you’re torturing it."
"Of course it's dead." I was certain of that.
She swayed. She put her hands up to her face, covering her eyes, swiping away her hair; then she bent over, as if she were about to be sick. Whoa. I got worried. What the fuck?
"They died so slowly. He tortured them."
"Shit." I didn't know what was going on, but I dropped both the shotgun and the bird and rushed to her side just in time to grab her as her legs collapsed. Clinging to me, she sank to her knees in the tall grass.
"Jess?" I knelt beside her and put my arms around her. Her skin was like ice and she was trembling. "Hon, what's the matter? It's okay." I was stroking her shoulders, her hair. "I've got you. I'm here, Jess, it's okay."
She shoved me away. It was a strong, powerful shove that sent me sprawling.
I sat up, shocked. She wasn’t usually so rough.
I heard the crack of bone and the groan of muscle. Sounds that were familiar to me, except that I’d hardly ever heard them from her. She was shifting, and from the sound of it, the change was violent and extremely fast.
I stared, feeling as if someone had put a fist around my throat. The air crackled with magic and it was hard to breathe. Clouds must have covered the sun because the whole meadow turned dark and chill.
I thought for a moment I was going mad.
Jess, my wife, my lover, my mate, was gone. In her place was no sable wolf, but a shadow, a phantom, a creature—something that I’d never seen before. Unless…I remembered that I had seen something, vaguely, through the fog on the night that Tom’s SUV had almost collided with my motorcycle.
Something I hadn’t understood, or believed. Afterwards, I’d figured I must have imagined it because of all the adrenaline that had spiked through me as I’d fought to control my bike and not spin off the road.
Fuck.
It…she…Jess was in the air about six feet off the ground, held aloft by huge, black wings. She soared higher, rising over the treetops. She caught the air currents and flew back and forth over the darkened meadow. She moved at incredible speed while I gaped up at her from the ground, trying to process what I was seeing.
She looked like some gigantic bird of prey, except that, but for the wings, she had a human form. She was Jess—her face, her arms, legs, and body. But it was as if all the color had drained from her, transforming her into shadow and bone. Her body seemed thinner and longer than usual. Her face was lily white, except for red lips and with eyes that burned with emerald fire.
She looked like an apparition. A dark angel. Or even a demon.
And yet, she was strangely beautiful.
She glided back down, deadly yet graceful. Her green gaze seared into me as she fluttered in the air for several moments while I fumbled to understand. What was she? Was this real or was I hallucinating?
There were stories, of course. There were always stories—beings who could take more than one shifted form. Beings who weren’t really shifters, but Something Else. The Fae? Demons? Faerie folk slipping through from a parallel world?
You don’t really know me, Cade. You don’t know all of me. There are dark things inside me.
Was this what she had meant?
Of course. This was her secret. The reason she would never shift for me. Whatever she was, she hadn’t wanted me to discover it.
The cracking came again, like a sigh this time. Agony. Defeat. The powerful black-feathered wings crumpled and collapsed. Her entire body blurred. She fell to earth and lay crumpled among the wildflowers, an ordinary human body, curled up at my feet.
My heart slamming, I dropped to my knees beside her, terrified that she was dead. I could swear I’d seen death in her pale, strange face. I could almost see the skull beneath her skin.