Chapter 5: Aiden

 

 

 

I stared at a spot in the woods, the last place I saw the taillights of Josh's cruiser before they disappeared into oblivion. Now that it was just me and Erick, the forest was as calm as still water. The only evidence that the last few minutes had even happened was my elevated blood pressure.

Silently, I turned around. Erick was framed against the rectangle of light shining through the door of the R.V., which was propped open. He didn't say anything, but I could feel his eyes on my face. I could hear him breathing.

I scowled at him. "I guess we should head inside then," I said sarcastically. I didn't care if I offended him or not.

Erick shifted slightly to the side. "You may enter first."

I cradled my injured arm as I marched past Erick and stepped up into the R.V. The wound was beginning to throb, and I could feel its heat radiating onto my chest through the front of my shirt. It was the beginning of the infection. It either killed you or turned you. And I wasn't turning.

I stood in the narrow kitchen and turned around to face Erick as he pulled the aluminum door shut behind him.

I don't have much time, I was going to say, but the words evaporated on my tongue as I got my first good look at Erick in the light.

His head, which he inclined to keep from scraping against the ceiling, was topped with wavy, blonde hair, grown out past his shoulders. His eyelashes were also blonde, fringing his blue eyes. He looked like a prince out of a fairytale and was unlike any other man I'd ever seen.

And he stared at me as if he was afraid of me.

"I don't think I have much time," I tried again, with a slight rasp. "So can you really heal me, or was that just some bullshit?"

Wordlessly, Erick stepped forward and extended his hand. I hesitated for a second before placing my injured arm on his broad palm. His fingers fastened over my wrist, and his head tipped forward.

I just thought he was trying to get a closer look.

Suddenly, Erick clamped his mouth over the wound. I jumped when I felt the first surprising sting of it.

My chest clenched with fear at first, but I forgot to be afraid when I felt what his saliva was doing to me.

His head still lowered, blonde hair cascading down each side of my arm, he ran his tongue over the bloody tears in my skin. There was a mild, cool tingling, and it chased the pain away.

With the pain gone, Erick pulled away and ran his other hand over the skin to wipe away his spit. I shuddered, and I was sure that he felt it with his fingers still gripping my wrist.

"How did you do that?" I asked, so surprised that I forgot to even say thanks.

The wound wasn't gone, but it was no longer inflamed or bleeding. More importantly, it no longer hurt.

Erick's expression flickered. "It should be healed by morning," he said, without answering my question.

He had a weird way of talking. It wasn't exactly an accent. There was just something different about his speech. He didn't seem like he was from around here.

His fingers unfurled, and I pulled my arm back to my side. "I don't suppose I could convince you to let me go."

Erick chuckled a little sadly. I took that as a no.

"Well, thanks anyway," I said, and I started glancing around at my surroundings.

"There's a bed that way. You may sleep there if you'd like," Erick said, pointing over my shoulder towards the back.

I followed the line of his finger to a small bedroom, just visible through an open doorway. I nodded and looked back at him. The wet spot on my arm was still tingling.

"Are you really a panther shifter?" I asked.

Erick's face was placid. He gave me one curt nod, though I wasn't sure if that was his answer. "Good night, Aiden."

"Good night," I said, more confused than ever.

I went to the bedroom and closed the door, leaving Erick to stretch out on the kitchen bench or kick back in one of the cab seats up front.

I started thinking about my apartment, a downtown bachelor pad that I'd filled with cozy, secondhand furniture. Immediately, a wave of depression passed through me, deflating my spirit from the inside out.

Tomorrow, I told myself as I curled up on the bed, still in my grimy medical scrubs. Tomorrow, I'd plan my escape.

Tonight, I just wanted to sleep. After the day I'd just had, I deserved it.

 

* * *

 

The dragon on my shield…

The dragon between my legs.

I'm soaring on his back, over sprawling vistas of mountains, trees, valleys, oceans. I can see the shadow of his wings flickering on the landscape below us.

My first friend, I find myself thinking. My best friend…

 

* * *

 

I opened my eyes, my dream dissipating in an instant.

I was confused for a few seconds as I stared out at the unfamiliar, cramped room around me.

Then, I remembered last night.

The wound in my arm had closed overnight. Nothing was left but a few pink marks. In another day, it would've been completely gone.

Erick.

I got up and whipped the door open, and I found Erick standing at the tiny kitchen counter, holding a butcher knife. A limp rabbit sat on a butcher block before him.

"Good morning," he said, a split second before he swung the knife like a hammer. The rabbit's bloody head rolled away from its body.

"Breakfast?" I said grimly.

Erick smiled as he held the rabbit up by its rear legs. "I caught it this morning." He skinned the carcass with one quick movement. That was the moment I decided to look away. "A wolf's favorite food, correct?"

"And a panther's," I said. "Right?"

He plunked a pot into the sink basin and placed the rabbit inside. "I suppose so," he said faintly.

I sat down at the Formica table and planted my chin on my fist. "I'm not a wolf, anyway. Not anymore."

"You were cured," Erick said.

"I was."

"Forgive me, but may I ask how you were cured?"

Watching Erick throw some hard root vegetables into the pot, I realized he was making a stew, and suddenly I was starving.

I sat back and put my feet up on the bench. "It was just a couple years ago, when I was twenty. Eliza, the head witch of the local coven, put out the word that she was recruiting packless shifters for a job. I was the only one who applied."

"I see. What sort of job was it?"

"She needed a test subject for a new experimental ritual to cure shifting. She called it 'harvesting a wolf from a shifter.' I would have paid her to do it to me if it would cure me like she promised," I said, stretching languidly.

I didn't remember much about ritual itself, only that it had been bloody and agonizingly painful. If I had to, I would've done it again.

"You wanted to be cured?" Erick said. After putting the pot on the stove with a lid and turning on the heat, he leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed to study me. The bulk of his wide, long body blocked the path back to my bedroom.

"Why wouldn't I? Getting bitten was the worst thing that ever happened to me," I said. I still had the scar from that night, right on the back of my left calf.

I didn't want to think about that night, and I didn't want to talk about it anymore. "How about you, Erick? What's your story?"

Erick opened his mouth, but just before he could answer my question, his head snapped to look out the window above the sink. His attention was snatched away by something he was hearing outside.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Wolves," Erick said. He looked alarmed, which worried me. "Not the ones from last night."

My stomach sank. Uh-oh. If they weren't the ones from last night…

"They're coming," Erick said urgently, and he uncrossed his arms and burst through the door, making it bang open and shut again as he stormed outside.

I followed him, feeling like I had something caught in my throat, choking me with apprehension. My suspicions were confirmed when I caught up to Erick outside in the clearing just in time to watch a trio of wolves dash out of the trees.

I knew them on sight, and they weren't Black Paws.

They were Graybacks.