Chapter 19 Esmerelda
ESMERELDA
Leaves and dust plume under my pounding feet, every stride burning through my legs.
Marcus runs at my side, his presence comforting, while Minerva and Leonard thunder behind us.
I risk a glance over my shoulder, and my heart stutters until I catch sight of Min, eyes locked on me, racing hard to stay at my heels. Relief hits me, but it’s fleeting.
We don’t know who saw us shift. I don’t know if the crunch of footsteps behind us is real or just my pulse roaring in my ears. The not-knowing gnaws at me, makes the hair on the back of my neck prickle. All we can do is run. Run until the forest swallows us whole.
The trees close in around us, the branches whipping against my sides, damp mulch clogging the air and sticking in my throat.
I snort hard, trying to clear the reek of rot and damp that seems to crawl straight into my lungs.
A growl creeps up my throat, a warning to whoever might be tracking us that we are not to be messed with.
I’m restless, ready to fight after the tension of the night.
Instinct screams for me to give in to my urges.
To stop, whip around and fight. I’m so sick of unseen enemies.
Sick of people choosing the coward’s way out instead of showing their face and allowing us a fair fight.
But logic reminds me there might not be anyone following, and if there is, we might be outnumbered.
Without a word, we scatter. Marcus jerks right with Leonard on his heels; Min and I veer left, paws pounding. The forest rushes past in a blur of shadows and shrubs.
A river comes into view up ahead, black and slick like a polished mirror under the moonlight.
When we reach it, I don’t hesitate, and neither do the others.
I plunge in, the cold biting like knives despite my fur.
Water surges around my body, lapping at me.
Hopefully, it will hide our scent. It has to.
Min splashes close behind. We drag ourselves out the other side, dripping, shivering, and split again without a glance.
Hours blur into each other, nothing but endless thumping paws, the crack of twigs, the whip of branches. My lungs burn and my muscles scream. The night stretches on and on until I feel I’ll never stop running. The metallic taste in my mouth tells me it’s time to head back to safety.
By the time Min and I stumble into the safehouse, we’re wrecked.
Exhausted, my body snaps back to my human form with a groan of protest. We’re gasping, dripping, clothes plastered to our skin as we haul ourselves up the stairs.
We slam the door behind us and lean against it, panting, silence ringing in my ears.
“Holy shit!” Min gasps, staring down at herself.
The sleek latex she’d been so smug about earlier is nothing but jagged ribbons clinging to her torso.
The tattered latex on her thighs looks suctioned to her.
Her face, caught between horror and disbelief, would be comical if she wasn’t such a mess. No, wait…it is funny.
I can’t help it, I huff out a laugh that sounds more like a wheeze. “Damn, you’re a mess.”
She lifts her chin, refusing to go down alone. “You don’t look much better.” Her finger jabs toward my shoulder, and I glance down. Sure enough, the latex dress that had molded to me is torn wide open, hanging in sad strips that reveal goose-pimpled skin.
“I guess latex doesn’t hold up well against magic.” I try for humor, but it comes out more tired than clever.
“Nope.” Min shakes her head, a wild lock of hair falling into her eyes. “Can you imagine if there was no magic at all? Every single shift, we’d shred our clothes to bits or…” She smirks faintly. “We’d have to strip naked first.”
I shrug. “I don’t mind showing off my body.”
“If I looked like you, I wouldn’t either.”
“Please. You’re stunning. Every submissive in that club was practically drooling at the thought of being punished by you.”
Min flushes and looks away.
“Come on,” I say, “let’s get out of these before the guys get back.”
Speaking of… Where the hell are the guys? We split at the same time, same forest, same plan. They should be here already.
The thought has my brow furrowing but I try not to panic.
Min and I slip toward the bedroom, and I slam the door harder than I mean to.
The sound echoes, and my wolf paces restlessly inside me.
I drag a breath into my lungs. It tastes of sweat and river water, tinged with the acrid bite of my own unease.
I don’t mind showing skin, not when it’s on my terms. Not when I’m in control. But this? Torn dress, scraped knees, exhaustion dragging me down? This isn’t power. It’s exposure. I feel half-ripped to shreds, vulnerable in a way I can’t stand.
Min collapses into the chair at the desk and tugs at her boots, then goes for the latex. It doesn’t budge.
“Here, let me.” I crouch and slide my fingers under the opening of the pants. Her poor shoes stare at me from their abandoned pile on the floor. The leather is warped. “These are done for.”
“That’ll teach me to wear my good boots.”
I pat her leg. “Don’t worry, we’ll get Marcus to buy you new ones.”
She smirks. “What happened to you being an independent woman?”
“Spending my husband’s money has become a new favorite hobby of mine. Besides, I should get something out of this whole deal.”
At his name, my throat tightens, and I drag my teeth over my lip. “What’s taking them so long?”
“Maybe their route was tougher. More people?” Min frowns.
“Yeah. Maybe.” But the worry deepens anyway.
“I thought you were going to help me.”
“Fine. Standing or sitting?”
“Sitting.”
Min drops into the armchair across from the bed, stretching her leg out with exaggerated flair. I crouch at her ankles, fingers curling around the slick latex that’s suctioned to her skin.
“You know,” she says, smirking down at me, “if this were me trying to help you, you’d be throwing a fit.”
I roll my eyes, but she’s not wrong. “Shush and lift your tush.”
She braces her hands on the armrests, pushes down, and hikes her butt off the chair while I yank. Nothing. The latex doesn’t even budge.
“Gods, it’s really stuck.”
“Tug harder,” she grits out, her voice strained.
“I’m trying.” My hands slip on the slick material.
“On three. One. Two. Three.”
I pull with all my strength, and the chair lurches forward. Min’s grip slips, and suddenly she’s sliding. I scramble back to catch myself, but it’s too late, we both crash to the floor in a heap, the impact jolting up my spine.
For a breath, the room goes silent. We just stare at each other, wide-eyed, half in shock.
Then it hits us. Laughter bursts out, wild and uncontained, until my stomach aches.
Maybe it’s the tension, maybe it’s the sheer ridiculousness of this night, but it’s the hardest I’ve laughed in months.
The sound shakes something loose in my chest, and for the first time since the dinner, it feels like I can breathe.
We eventually calm down, still aching from laughter and from the fall. With effort, I peel her free of the latex, then strip out of my ruined dress. By the time we’re dressed in comfortable clothing, my worry has settled like a stone in my stomach.
“What do we do if they don’t come back?” I whisper.
Min’s about to answer when the door slams open. Leonard stumbles in looking pale and exhausted, wearing clothes I’ve never seen before.
I crane my neck, heart pounding, searching behind him. Marcus isn’t there.
“Where’s Marcus?”
“At one point we thought we were being followed, so we split up,” Leonard pants.
Shit. The bottom drops out of my stomach as my mind conjures up images of Marcus being dragged into an alley and tortured for information, or worse.
What if they didn’t even bother questioning him?
What if he’s already gone? My chest seizes, lungs refusing to expand.
Panic claws at me, sharper than I expected, sharper than I want to admit. Why do I care so much?
I scrub my hand over my face, trying to steady myself. I need to think.
“Hey, it’s dangerous to leave the door open.”
My head snaps up at the sound of Marcus’s voice. Relief floods me so fast my knees nearly buckle. I’m across the room in a heartbeat, throwing my arms around Marcus, burying my face in his neck and breathing him in. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
He stiffens, but then he hugs me back. “I’m glad you’re safe too.” His voice is rough, low.
I take a step back, heat creeping up my neck as the intensity of my reaction settles. Gods, I practically threw myself at him. Awkward doesn’t begin to cover it.
And that’s when I notice what he’s wearing.
Sweats and a tie-dye shirt.
Marcus. In tie-dye.
If someone had put a gun to my head yesterday, I’d have sworn Marcus would rather be executed than be caught dead in something that looks like it was stolen from a beachside yoga retreat.
Leonard barks a laugh. “Nice outfit.”
“Fuck you,” Marcus growls, jaw tight. “Pickings were slim.”
Leonard smirks. “So, you robbed a yoga guru?”
Marcus doesn’t rise to it. “I’m getting changed,” he mutters, already striding toward the bedroom like he can outrun the humiliation.
“Good,” Leonard calls after him, smirk widening. “That shirt’s giving me motion sickness.”
I press my lips together to hold back a laugh, but it slips out, bubbling up through my relief. Marcus was alive, but his dignity? That’s another story.
When he returns, dressed in something that looks more like him, we all convene in the makeshift war room.
“So,” I say, placing a marker on the table, “did anyone get anything useful?”
Marcus leans forward, his gaze flipping from Leonard to Minerva, his arm brushing mine as he sits. When all they do is shrug and look disappointed, he says, “Esmerelda and I bumped into a couple of vamps.”