Chapter 2 #2
"Sorry, little bit," he said, giving me a lopsided grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Didn't know they called you for the supply run. Thought they’d send a pledge."
"I was available," I said, slamming the trunk shut. "What’s in the box? It weighs a ton."
Jax flinched. He looked toward the heavy steel doors leading into the arena, then back at me. "Sedatives. High-grade suppressants. Stuff to keep a wolf from... hurting himself."
My heart skipped a beat. Suppressants.
"Who are they for?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
Jax rubbed the back of his neck. "Dante. Coach sent him up to the cabin an hour ago. He’s... it’s bad, Ara. The Rut hit him fast. He needs these meds to ride it out without tearing the cabin down."
"Dante is already there?" I clarified, a wave of relief washing over me.
If he was already there, I could just drop the box on the porch, knock, and drive away. No contact. No glowing eyes. No danger.
"Yeah, Vane drove him up," Jax said. "But Vane had to come back for a press conference. So, Dante is alone. You just drop the box in the secure lockbox outside the door. Do not go inside. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars."
"Understood," I said, climbing into the driver’s seat. "Drop and dash."
"Hey, Ara?" Jax called out as I reached for the door handle.
"Yeah?"
"Be careful. The roads are getting slick. And... he really is dangerous right now. If you hear him growling... just drive."
"Comforting," I muttered.
I slammed the door, shutting out the wind and Jax’s worried face. I adjusted the mirrors, put the SUV in gear, and peeled out of the loading dock.
The drive to the Solitude Cabin was usually forty minutes. It wound up the side of the mountain, through dense, old-growth forest, away from the campus and the town. It was isolation in its purest form.
Today, the drive was a nightmare.
Ten minutes in, the world turned white. The snow wasn't falling anymore; it was being hurled horizontally. The windshield wipers thrashed frantically, fighting a losing battle against the accumulation. My visibility was reduced to the hood of the car and maybe five feet of asphalt ahead.
I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white, my shoulders hunched up to my ears.
"You can do this, Arabella," I coached myself, my voice sounding thin in the quiet cabin of the SUV. "Just deliver the drugs to the werewolf and go home. Simple."
The radio crackled with static. A garbled voice came through—the campus emergency broadcast. ...Roads closed... dangerous conditions... all students shelter in place...
I reached out to turn the volume up, taking one hand off the wheel for a fraction of a second.
That was when it happened.
A shadow darted across the road.
It was huge. A deer? An elk? A wolf?
I didn't have time to identify it. I just reacted. I slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel to the left.
Big mistake.
The SUV hit a patch of black ice hidden beneath the fresh powder.
The tires lost all traction. The world tilted. The rear of the car swung out, and suddenly I was sliding sideways, completely out of control.
I didn't scream. I went silent, my breath trapped in my lungs as the forest rushed toward me.
The SUV spun—once, twice—a dizzying carousel of white snow and dark trees.
Crunch.
The sound of metal hitting wood was sickening. The front end of the SUV slammed into a snowbank, plowing through it and smashing into a massive pine tree. The airbag deployed with the force of a punch to the face, white powder filling the air, blinding me.
Silence.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the ringing in my ears and the hiss of the radiator.
I blinked, coughing as the dust from the airbag settled. My face stung. My chest hurt where the seatbelt had locked. But I wiggled my fingers. I wiggled my toes.
Alive.
I fumbled for the door handle, shoving it open. It groaned but gave way.
I stumbled out into the snow, sinking up to my knees instantly. The cold bit through my leggings like knives.
"Okay," I gasped, the wind stealing my voice. "Okay. Not good."
I looked at the SUV. The front was crumpled around the tree. Steam was rising from the engine. It wasn't going anywhere.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket.
No Service.
Panic, cold and sharp, began to prickle at the base of my neck. I was miles from campus. In a blizzard. With no car and no phone.
I looked up the road. Through the swirling whiteout, I could see a faint, yellow light flickering in the distance, maybe half a mile up the steep incline.
The Cabin.
It was my only option.
I grabbed the crate of medical supplies from the back—partly because I needed to fulfill my mission, partly because carrying something heavy gave me a focus—and started to trudge up the hill.
The wind howled like a living thing, tearing at my clothes. My "armor" of oversized sweaters felt like tissue paper now. The cold was seeping into my bones, making my teeth chatter so hard my jaw ached.
One step. Another.
The snow was thigh-deep in places. I had to drag myself forward, my breath coming in ragged, painful gasps. My fragility was screaming at me. You can't do this. You're too weak. You're going to freeze.
"Shut up," I hissed at my own brain.
By the time the dark outline of the cabin materialized out of the white gloom, I couldn't feel my feet. My eyelashes were frozen together. I was shaking so violently I could barely hold the crate.
I stumbled onto the porch, collapsing against the heavy wooden door.
There was a lockbox mounted on the wall. I reached for it with numb, clumsy fingers, intending to shove the meds inside and... and what? Sit on the porch and freeze to death?
I whimpered. It was a pathetic sound.
Suddenly, a roar erupted from inside the cabin.
It wasn't a human shout. It was a guttural, animalistic bellow of pain and rage that shook the floorboards beneath my boots.
Something smashed against the inside of the door. A heavy weight.
"Get out!"
The voice was Dante’s. But it was distorted, layered with a growl that sounded like grinding rocks.
"Dante?" I called out, my voice weak. "Dante, it’s Arabella. I crashed. I... I’m freezing."
Silence on the other side of the door.
Then, the sound of heavy breathing. Sniffing.
"Arabella?"
The lock clicked. The bolt slid back.
The door was ripped open.
Heat—blast-furnace heat—rolled out, hitting my frozen face.
Dante stood there.
He was naked.
Well, mostly. He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips, leaving the V-lines of his pelvis exposed. But above that... chaos.
His skin was flushed a dark, feverish red. Sweat slicked every inch of his torso, making the muscles look oiled. His hair was wet, matted to his forehead. His hands were braced on the doorframe, his claws—actual, lengthened claws—digging into the wood.
But his eyes.
They weren't just glowing amber anymore. They were bleeding into crimson. The pupils were blown wide, eclipsing the iris.
He looked at me, shivering on his doorstep, covered in snow, looking like a drowned rat.
He didn't look concerned. He looked... starving.
He inhaled deeply, his chest expanding, taking in my scent. The wind blew my scent directly into him—vanilla, fear, and cold.
A shudder ripped through his massive body. His jaw locked.
"You," he ground out. It sounded like a curse. "You came."
"I... the car..." I tried to explain, but my teeth were chattering too hard. I held out the crate. "Your... meds."
He didn't look at the crate. He smacked it out of my hand.
The box flew off the porch, landing in a snowbank with a muffled thump.
"I don't need pills," he growled.
He reached out, his hand wrapping around my arm. His grip was iron. His skin was burning hot, searing through the layers of my sweater.
He yanked me inside.
I stumbled, falling against his chest. It was like hitting a brick wall. The smell of him—musk, smoke, and raw, potent Alpha pheromones—assaulted me, making my knees buckle.
He kicked the door shut behind us, plunging us into the semi-darkness of the cabin, lit only by the dying embers of a fireplace.
He didn't let go of my arm. He pulled me closer, lifting me until I was on my toes, forcing me to look up at him.
"You shouldn't be here," he whispered, his face inches from mine. His breath was hot on my frozen cheek. "God, you shouldn't be here."
"I had nowhere else to go," I whispered back, terrified and mesmerized.
"You're trapped," he said. A statement of fact.
"The storm..."
"Not the storm," he interrupted, lowering his head until his lips brushed the shell of my ear. "Me. I’m in Rut, Arabella. And you just walked into the den."
He inhaled sharply against my neck, and I felt the sharp scrape of his teeth graze my skin. Not biting. Just... tasting.
"Run," he commanded, his voice trembling with the effort to hold back. "Hide in the bathroom. Lock the door. Do it now."
But he didn't let go of my arm.
In fact, his grip tightened, his thumb dragging over my pulse point, counting the frantic rhythm of my heart.
"I said run," he groaned, burying his face in the crook of my neck.
"I can't," I breathed, my body betraying me, leaning into his heat, seeking the warmth I had been denied my whole life. "You're holding me."
Dante froze. He pulled back slightly to look at me, his eyes wild, tortured, and undeniably obsessed.
"I know," he rasped. "I can't let go."
Outside, the wind howled, burying the cabin, sealing us in. Inside, the air crackled with a tension that was thicker than the snow.
We were trapped.
And for the first time in my life, I didn't want to be saved.