chapter sixteen
Trees whizzed past, branches reaching down to grab her. Sparrow glanced over her shoulder to see if she was being pursued then got whipped in the face by a sagging tree limb when she twisted back around. Her eyes stung. Her stomach rumbled with hunger. And her body groaned as she pushed past the point of exhaustion.
Her life was turning into one endless sequence of déjà vu.
“Stay here or I’ll hunt you down,” the neanderthal had warned.
Yeah, and if I stay, Wolfrik will kill me, her mind answered back.
It was fight or flight, which gave her little choice. No way could she take on two large shifters who could transform into vicious beasts. She hadn’t even been able to protect herself against Hawk’s men—and they had no claws or fangs.
Wolfrik’s betrayal stung. She’d freed him. It didn’t matter that she’d done it in part for revenge. She’d always wanted to free him—him and all the other wolf shifters. They shouldn’t be kept in cages. That’s what she’d tried to tell him seconds before he lost his mind.
What had she said to make him snap?
Offspring. I reminded him of the breeding.
“Damn it.”
Wolfrik was right. She really should keep her mouth shut. Her words had often angered her brother—all the judgments she’d voiced about his operation. It often surprised her how much he’d allowed her to mouth off. He always smiled smugly and said, “I’m in charge and this is the way things are. Better get used to it, little sis, and try to show a little appreciation for the fortunate position you’re in.”
If she hadn’t fallen in love with a wolf shifter, and kept her mouth shut, she could have lived a comfortable life, but she would have been dead inside.
“No regrets,” she said bitterly.
Here she was, running for her life. It was an odd time to look back at her decisions with pride and accept her fate.
She listened for the sound of pursuit—the heart-stopping crash of a wolf chasing her down—but the forest held a serene silence. Sparrow knew better. She eyed the trees, prepared to climb up one again. Wolfrik would have to shift into human form if he wanted to get her back down, and when he did, she’d make him listen to her. Then she’d promise to be quiet. She didn’t feel like talking to him any more than she had to. Then again, she might lose her temper and call him out for the bastard he was and throw down a string of cusses—and maybe a loose tree limb if she found one within reach.
She ran and ran, breath coming out in pants. Needles stabbed at her side and irritation crawled up her neck. What kind of game were the wolves playing? Was this sport to them? Did they plan to let her tire herself out first?
“Savages,” she spat.
She slowed to a jog, then speed walking, and finally walking. Sweet oxygen flowed in through her nostrils and out through her mouth as she regained her breath. The pain in her side dug in with each step, not letting up until she’d kept to her steady walk long enough to recover.
She glanced from side to side. All directions appeared the same, and it was impossible to walk straight with the earth plunging into a gully in some areas and rising in steep, rocky peaks in others. She kept to the most level path and worked her way around the obstacles.
It was reasonable to assume it was still Wolf Hollow territory in which she fled. With the males at the river, she hadn’t dared cross it. For all she knew, she was running straight for the heart of the hollow—where an entire pack of startled wolf shifters would pounce on her.
Now there was a stupid plan.
She turned around slowly. She needed to find the river again—backtrack for a bit. Was this the way she’d come? Everything looked so similar, and yet unfamiliar. Her entire life had been spent in the city, near the compound.
Trees, moss, ferns, and brush all blurred together into a tapestry that kept unrolling with every step. As she took it all in, a large brown furry face stared at her from the foliage, and Sparrow gave a scream of surprise.
It wasn’t the gray form of Wolfrik, which meant it had to be Aden. He was alone and so very large. Sparrow had never seen a wolf his size. He was like a horse among ponies.
Aden didn’t lunge at her—not even after she screamed. Sparrow clamped her mouth shut and shook a shaky finger at him.
“You scared me.”
She waited for him to shift, but he remained in place, eyes watchful and focused solely on her.
Now what?
When she began to walk away from him, Aden flashed past her and blocked the path ahead. Sparrow stopped and concentrated on deep, even—calming—breaths.
She turned and walked the other way, ever aware of the shifter following her. A rough animal trail curved ahead, and Sparrow started for it, only to have Aden head her off again, until he’d herded her back to the caves.
With a sigh, Sparrow planted herself near the rocks she’d scattered earlier. She took one of the smooth oval-shaped pebbles into her palm, wrapped her fingers around it, and squeezed. Aden sat on his haunches across from her.
Sparrow moved the rock from one palm to the next, watching Aden as closely as he watched her.
“Why did you stop him, anyway?” she asked.
The shifter blinked. Even if he’d been in human form, she doubted he would have answered her. He wasn’t much of a talker from what she could tell, and he had no reason to trust her even if he had been a chatterbox.
Sparrow dropped the rock over another. They clacked together then sprang apart. She scooped up the rock and dropped it again, repeating the process several times, focusing on the sound of the two rocks hitting together. All the while, she kept her attention on the shifter.
“You’re lucky, you know. Animals can lie around calm for hours and be perfectly fine. Humans get bored.” She folded her arms across her chest. “We don’t like to sit around doing nothing, unless we have a book or a game—or conversation.” She leaned over her lap and raised her brows.
The shifter had the audacity to yawn and get onto his belly, rest his large head on his paws, and close his eyes.
Sparrow snorted. “Am I boring you? Perhaps you’d prefer a song—” She looked at the restful wolf and sighed. “Or a lullaby.”
Aden’s eyes remained closed, but Sparrow had no doubt he was awake. He wouldn’t round her up only to take a snoozer while he was the only shifter on guard duty.
She relaxed her arms at her sides, lifted her chest, and sang the first lyrics to come to her. Surprisingly, it was a song she’d come up with after she started falling for Eric. He’d inspired many love songs. She hadn’t sung any since his death. She didn’t think she ever would and she didn’t know why she did now, except that they brought his memory back to her from a happier time when hope and passion had sprung up like wildflowers.
As the melody belted through her lips and emotion built inside her chest, the song became a declaration, then a plea.
Come back to me, Eric. Come back.
Her throat tightened, and tears prickled beyond her eyelids, but she didn’t break down. The words kept coming as the song took over.
Aden’s eyes fluttered open to watch her, his head still resting on his paws.
When Sparrow finished the last line of her song, she gasped for breath. She thought that would be the end of it, but soon her lips were moving again. She sang every song she knew then began making up new ones. It didn’t matter if they sucked. There was no one to hear them, besides an idle wolf. She sang herself hoarse. With no one to talk to, what use did she have of her voice, anyway?
Aden didn’t shift until early evening, and then only to get the fire going.
Sparrow folded her arms over her chest and clenched her teeth as she watched him. If he wanted to give her the silent treatment, then she’d give it right back. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stop her eyes from following his movements any more than a meteor could stop its descent across space. Aden’s preparations offered the only entertainment available. His thick, muscular arm sawed back and forth on the bow drill until fire sparked. He dipped down, full lips blowing the flames to life—kissing the heat. A shiver went through her. She found herself transfixed by his simple actions.
Aden didn’t stop blowing until a healthy fire roared in the center of the rock-lined pit. Once satisfied, he straightened up and gathered kindling from nearby, feeding it to the fire.
Sparrow got up and helped—to show she wasn’t a helpless damsel from the human world.
They worked together without a word. Wood snapped, and the fire sparked. Once the pit had been filled, Aden continued collecting kindling, stacking it into a neat pile near the fire. An imposing penis hung between his legs and was difficult not to stare at, especially when it kept staring back. Aden moved around the campsite with ease, as though being naked was more natural to him than wearing clothes.
He snatched up the pack Wolfrik had hiked in with and bent his head to stare inside before reaching a hand in and pulling out green cloth. He set the pack down carefully and walked around to Sparrow, stopping two feet away, and holding the bunched-up fabric to her.
“This is for you.”
The beast decides to speak.
“What is it?”
Aden glanced down, his fingers grazing the cloth. He pulled at it a bit then took a step back and held it in front of him by the sleeves. It was a short dress—vibrant green with little white and orange blossoms springing over the short sleeves, scoop-necked top, and loose skirt.
Sparrow kept her arms at her sides and wrinkled her nose. “I’m not wearing that.”
“Why not?” Aden glanced at the dress in puzzlement as though expecting to find a rip.
“Because I’m not some skirt sitting around waiting to be rescued. I’m on the run, remember? Jesus, is this how shifter women are treated? Dressed up and guarded by cavemen? Did you use The Fall as an excuse to act like neanderthals?”
Their eyes locked, and for the first time, Aden’s eye twitched. The beast was capable of irritation after all. Getting under his skin was nothing to be proud of. He’d shown restraint so far, but that could change in a heartbeat. Like Wolfrik, he was wild—part animal—and unpredictable.
He slid his bottom teeth from one side to the other. It gave Sparrow the impression that he wanted to bite her. Rather than shrink back, she lifted her shoulders, chest, and head, and pursed her lips.
Aden slid his teeth back in place and relaxed his jaw, allowing his lips to settle together. He didn’t wad the dress and throw it down. No, he folded it with deliberate patience and set it on a stump. “Wear it or not, makes no difference to me.”
He distanced himself from her before shifting—a shift Sparrow watched openmouthed. She’d seen the transformation on multiple occasions at the compound, but she’d never witnessed a shifter capable of shifting on two legs—and remaining on them during the entire process.
Looming there in his thick brown fur, at a height of easily eight feet, Aden looked like a villainous beast that had wandered out of a dark fairy tale.
Sparrow fought the urge to shrink back. Her body shook all the way down to her quaking shoes.
“What are you?” she whispered.
Aden’s wolf lips grinned. He took a step toward her, then another, and another—striding as though it was the most natural thing in the world for a wolf to walk upright.
A scream rose up Sparrow’s throat, but it had nowhere to escape because her vocal cords had squeezed shut. No sound came out, and no air came in. Her head lurched, brain shouting for oxygen.
She threw her hands out in front of her chest as though that would stop the beast from ravishing her, but before reaching her, he swung around and stalked off into the woods.
Sparrow gasped in sharp breaths of air as soon as he disappeared. She could barely hear through the pounding in her ears. Her heart thumped in her chest—knocking against her ribs—reprimanding her for denying it precious oxygen for so long.
The fire crackled invitingly, but she wasn’t fooled.
The shifters in the cages had warmed up to her because they had no choice, and because they were broken. They’d cowed to her kindness like dogs hungry for love and affection. Understanding slammed into her gut like a battering ram. Eric had been starved for love, too. Would he have looked twice at her if she’d met him on even ground, or would he have seen her as a lowly human?
The forest-dwelling shifters were untamed, ferocious, and wild. Survival was their mistress—their pack provided everything else.
Sparrow had no place among those born wild.
She was a runaway with no family and no pack, no tribe, and no options. She didn’t miss the compound or her brother, but she grieved for the captives she’d had no choice but to leave behind. In her own small way, she’d fed them with kindness, and they’d helped ease her lifelong loneliness.
With a bitter laugh, Sparrow realized that it was she who had been starved for love all along.