Chapter 19
Alanna
My hands tremble, slick with a mixture of rain and sweat as I grip the steering wheel. I press my foot all the way down on the accelerator pedal and it’s still not fast enough. I don’t look back. I don’t dare.
Only when we’re far enough away, on some back roads on the outskirts of the city, do I slow down. But my heart continues racing as my gaze flicks to the driver’s side mirror. For a split second, illuminated by a passing streetlight, his reflection fills the view.
The wolf.
Curled up in the truck bed, a massive, dark shape, his head resting on enormous paws.
His fur is thick and shaggy, a deep, rich brown the color of wet earth and ancient forests.
And I remember when he leapt between me and the echo-beast—the sheer size of him.
His shoulders are as broad as a doorway, packed with the kind of dense muscle that explains how he tossed aside a steel beam like it was nothing.
Even resting, his size is staggering, like something out of legend.
I should be absolutely terrified. Shouldn’t I? But, somehow, I’m not. My main worry is that he’s hurt.
When I glance back again, he lifts his head and locks onto my reflection in the mirror. He has shining gold eyes, steeped with intelligence, the same gold that I’ve come to know over these past weeks.
Kade.
He’s a wolf shifter.
I knew it, whispers something deep down.
The puzzle pieces were all there. His inhuman speed and strength.
The deep growls that rumble in his chest when he’s agitated.
His earthy, untamed scent, that feels like forest and wild things.
That hungry, wolfish expression I see on his face sometimes, when he thinks I’m not looking.
Even that vision—a great, dark wolf howling in despair.
I thought it was a metaphor, but it was a memory.
And he hid it from me.
A rush of hurt slices through my awe. It’s a familiar, bitter sensation.
Secrets like this are how a person holds themselves apart, keeping up the walls that make it easier to walk away.
I can’t even blame him, my magic is overwhelming—I am overwhelming—and once he’s figured out how to “contain” it, he’ll cut ties and disappear.
I’ve known this all along, it’s not a surprise.
But now I know that every time I looked into his eyes and thought we were connecting, he was holding back the biggest part of himself.
I feel so stupid for letting myself believe that we were becoming partners, maybe even friends.
But without the wolf he’d kept hidden, we’d both be dead. He saved me. Saved both of us. Again.
My grasp on the wheel tightens in frustration.
I can’t keep relying on him. I need to unlock all of the capabilities of my magic, the ones that feel like they’re just beyond the reach of my fingertips.
And I need to figure out how to get rid of this echo-beast that’s after me.
The only way out of this is to solve it myself.
And I was so close. My Aura of Clarity affected the echo-beast; I have clear evidence of that now.
Not only that, but later—after Kade . . .
shifted—I felt like I was on the brink of something, some insight that would finally give us the advantage we sorely need.
It’s like my magic understands the echo-beast somehow, on a fundamental level that I can’t yet grasp.
I chew my bottom lip, trying to reclaim that fleeting moment of insight from the fight.
A soft light flares up from my arm, dancing around me as I focus.
But the effort quickly becomes too much, making my vision swim and my head pound, until I’m forced to stop.
All I manage is an impression of making chaos remember order.
Whatever the hell that means.
***
The truck eats up the miles, and the only sounds are the thump of the windshield wipers and the hum of the engine. I check the side mirror frequently in case I need to pull over, but each time, Kade—and it feels so strange to think of that beast in the truck bed as Kade—seems content to stay put.
So I drive on. But with each passing moment, the hurt I felt initially begins to curdle, until hot anger bubbles in my gut.
When we finally pull up in front of the warehouse, I kill the engine, then pause, hesitating inside the truck. I’m not afraid of him, but I’m furious, and I’m hurt, and I don’t know how to start this conversation.
Before I can decide, I feel a great rocking motion.
I turn and see the giant wolf leaping from the truck bed, landing heavily on the concrete.
He’s already heading toward the warehouse, still with unnerving speed, although his gait is a little stiff from his injuries.
He stalks past the cab without a glance and nudges the heavy warehouse door open, disappearing inside. The door clicks shut behind him.
I take a deep breath, my anger warring with concern for his injuries. But the way he sauntered in there without even acknowledging me has my anger winning out.
When I enter the warehouse, the wolf is gone, and in the darkened room I see only the muscular silhouette of a man’s back against the dim glow of the fireplace embers.
His hair is loose and wild, and I notice that it’s the same rich color as the wolf’s coat.
He’s already pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips.
I take a few steps toward him, grimacing when I see the brutal bruises blooming across his ribs.
As I close the distance between us, he doesn’t turn, although I know he can hear me coming.
“How hurt are you?” I demand, and my tone isn’t the gentle, kind one that the situation calls for.
“It’s fine,” he says, his voice even rougher than usual. “I heal fast.”
His broad back and shoulders are tense, and his breathing is heavy—not labored, but as though he’s trying to control some strong emotion.
Well, that makes two of us I guess, and I am getting sick of his shit.
“Good,” I snap. “Because what the fuck, Kade?”
“We’re not having this conversation right now,” he says to the fire.
His dismissal, after everything we just went through, is a splash of gasoline on my anger.
“Oh, no.” My voice simmers with anger as I march closer, until I’m standing directly behind him. “You don’t get to do that. No more ‘it’s complicated’ or ‘ask me later.’ We are absolutely having this conversation. Right now.”
For a long, tense moment, he remains perfectly still, his muscles coiled like a predator about to strike.
Then, he turns, slowly, his head tilting to the side so he can watch me as he does.
The firelight catches the sharp line of his jaw, painting one half of his face in flickering orange while leaving the other in deep shadow.
I find myself involuntarily taking a step back.
His eyes—they’re changed, the normally gold-rimmed brown now consumed by black pools.
And those eyes, now locked onto me like I’m prey, are not just angry; they are hungry.
They are dangerous. An unexpected flush runs through my whole body, even while warning bells go off in my head.
“You want to have this conversation?” he growls. “Fine. Let’s talk about how you broke your promise and almost got yourself killed.”
“Me?” I sputter. “You’re a shifter. You’ve been lying to me this whole time!”
“It was none of your business. And I never lied. Unlike you.” He erases the distance between us in a fluid, uncompromising stride, crowding me until my back is inches from the huge wooden support beam in the middle of the den.
His voice drops, soft and menacing, but I can feel the emotion smoldering just underneath.
“What, exactly, was your plan back there? Were you just going to let it devour you?”
His proximity is overwhelming—a mountain of heat and that earthy, pine scent that makes my head spin. The smooth wood is cool against my back, a stark contrast to the fire in his gaze.
“I . . . I don’t know.” My own voice quavers, but I lift my chin, refusing to be cowed. “But I did what I had to do. You were down. It was coming for you. Or did you expect me to just hide and watch while it killed you?”
“You almost died!” he snarls, lunging forward, his arms bracketing me against the pillar, completely caging me in as though driven by the desperate, irrational hope that if he can just keep me here, nothing can ever hurt me.
His eyes are wild with terror, annihilating the thin veneer of calm from moments ago.
“I saved you!” I yell back, trapped by the wall of his body. “We wouldn’t even be alive right now if not for me!”
“I didn’t want you to save me—not like that!” The words are full of anguish.
His pain is a palpable thing, but my own confusion and hurt are a maelstrom inside me.
“Then what do you want, Kade? You push me away, half the time you act like you can’t stand to be in the same room as me, you hide the most important part of yourself from me.
Then you act like me getting hurt is the worst possible thing in the world.
I am so tired of trying to figure you out!
I’m just another problem for you to solve, right?
Another magical anomaly inconveniencing you.
If that’s all I am, why do you even care so much? ”
“Because you’re mine!” he explodes in a guttural, possessive roar that seems torn from the very soul of the wolf.
The claim hangs in the air, shocking and inconceivable, silencing everything else. “What?” I whisper, my lips parting with shock while my anger dissolves into stunned disbelief.
He leans in closer, his gaze burning into me, his breath warm against my skin. “You heard me.” He doesn’t give me a chance to speak, to think. The last of his restraint shatters, and he closes the final inch between us. Then his mouth crashes down on mine.
There’s no tenderness, no gentle exploration, only a desperate, frantic demand. Rougher than my dreams—and better.