I am having fun, I reminded myself with grim avowal, as I picked my way down a slope carpeted in leaves, trying not to step on the few trilliums poking out of the leaf-litter. I reached out and gripped a dead branch that protruded from a hollow, felled tree trunk, steadying myself. It left a smear of timberland filth on my palm. Such fun.
The matter of cohabitation still weighed on me. Should I ask Drix to move in with me? It would be so much easier to weather events like unexpected school fees, falling profits at A2A, and general loneliness with someone by my side.
But he is by my side. Nearly all the time.
Except when he goes home.
Zac had already asked most of the big questions. “Is Drix my dad?” “Did he adopt me?” “Can we go stay with him?” And I had provided what I hoped were adequate explanations.
Really, You have two adoptive daddies was an easy elucidation. It was certainly easier than You have one adoptive father and one very charming guardian whom your father loves deeply but who does not live with you or have any legal claim over you because your adoptive father is fear’s own ward.
For the nth time, my cardigan snagged on a branch. I was displeased with the amount I was sweating, the way the knit wool interior grew progressively damper as I walked.
Very well. The sweater was coming off.
I unbuttoned my cardigan. Slipped it off and tied it around my waist, grateful that Dave wasn’t here. He made enough fun of my cardigans as it was. Were he to see me with one tied around my waist, I’d never hear the end of it.
In my gray undershirt, I felt transformed. The cool air on my bare arms gave me a newfound attentiveness, a sense that I was cunning, agile, and strong. It didn’t hurt that my arm muscles looked particularly formidable.
It was bracing to be out here in the woods, alone. I started to focus on my mission. Walk softly. Stay close to the trees. Be aware of your surroundings.
The farther I walked, the more into it I got. Birds twittered around me, but I was listening for more insidious sounds: the crack of a twig, the shout of a startled slave.
You are a wolf.
You are a spy.
You may be prey, but you are perfectly capable of outsmarting your pursuers.
If I eluded capture, I stood a chance of owning a vac bed. I could lie there, sheathed in latex, while Drix did as he wished with my body. My dick stirred, and I minced my steps as my mind flooded with unbidden fantasies.
Adrift in ces fantasmes, I didn’t even notice the narrow, furrowed stump half buried in grass until I tripped over it. I staggered into a shrub.
“Ugh.” I swatted at the bush and veered into a small clearing edged in thin white pines.
And found myself staring down the barrel of a paint gun rifle.
I threw my hands up, so startled for a second that my heart seemed quite capable of exiting my body.
“Well, well, well.” Ryan kept the rifle aimed at my chest. “What have we here?”
I dropped my arms. Pulled my cardigan tighter around my waist. “My goodness,” I said primly, trying to cover how disappointed I was at being caught so soon. “I suppose you expect me to surrender.”
He lowered the gun slightly. “I suppose I do.”
There was something about him—an agitation bordering on panic—that I probably would not have noticed without the heightened senses granted to me by my unsweatered torso. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong!”
I kept my hands nonthreateningly by my sides. “Are you sure?”
He waved the rifle unsteadily. “Do you know your way around this place?”
“You mean the woods?”
“No, the goddamn Taj Mahal. Yes, the woods.”
Where one door closes, another opens.
“I have a very keen sense of direction,” I fibbed smoothly. “Why?”
“I’m lost. I need to get to the edge of the woods, by the camp. Kamen and I have an agreement that we’ll meet there and I’ll capture him.” His hand twitched on the gun, like he wanted to raise it again. “Don’t tell anyone. That Kamen and I planned this, I mean.”
“So are you saying . . .?”
He blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m saying if you take me where I need to be, I’ll let you go.”
I contemplated this. My only other option was to run. And running seemed untenable, given our proximity. What was more viable was either to lead him to the spot he’d described and hope he’d make good on his word—though honestly, I wasn’t too sure where we were in relation to the camp—or lead him on a bootless errand and await a better opportunity to flee.
I nodded slowly. “All right. I can do that.” So spaketh a liar and deceiver and future vac-bed owner. “I’ll take you to camp. You let me go.”
He eyed me suspiciously. Then thrust out his diminutive hand. “Shake on it.”
I clasped his infant’s paw and shook. “Come on.” I jerked my head to the left. “It’s this way.”