Chapter 34
The driver had not been happy about picking up a large man in a black suit, sunglasses, and leather gloves from a remote location deep in the woods.
If Shan hadn’t paid the extortionate fare in advance—along with an equally large tip—he was fairly certain the man would have floored the accelerator and left him standing by the side of the road.
As it was, the driver kept glancing nervously at him in the rear-view mirror, clearly worrying that he’d collected a hitman.
Perhaps he should have flown. But that would have risked the kids noticing his departure. He hadn’t wanted them to stage some last-minute intervention.
And that wasn’t the only reason it was safer not to shift.
Shan watched the trees roll past the window. He rubbed his thumb against his gloved fingertips, checking again. Waiting for his nails to lengthen, sharpen.
Nothing.
Which didn’t make any sense. Every moment carried him further from his mate. His qiongqi should have been fighting him tooth and claw, trying to twist his form. Trying to force him back.
No, his animal whispered, somewhere in the empty hollow of his soul. We cannot. She must choose. She must come to us.
But she wouldn’t. He’d left her behind. Angry. Hurting.
Yes, his qiongqi said simply. No remorse; no regret. The truth hurts sometimes. But it is better than lies.
He clenched his fist, biting back a growl. His animal was wrong. It would have been far better for Leonie if she’d never discovered the truth. If they’d never met. He should have stayed away, like he’d intended. He should have protected her.
He truly was a monster.
And there it was at last. His fingers crooked, bones twisting. He welcomed the pain, embraced it. He shouldn’t get to hide what he was. His body should match the darkness within.
No. It was almost a relief to feel his monster fighting him at last, like it had always done. No. Lies. Wrong!
He thrust it back, refusing to listen. His mate had trusted him with her heart. And in return, he’d brought her nothing but pain.
“Sir?” The driver’s anxious voice cut through his monster’s roars. “Sir, are you all right back there?”
It was hard to form words. “I’m fine.”
From the sliver of the man’s expression that he could see in the rear-view mirror, the driver was now worrying whether it was better to be transporting a live hitman, or a dead one. “You don’t look fine. You want me to take you to the hospital?”
“No.”
It came out as a snarl. The car swerved as the driver jerked the steering wheel.
Control. Control. Shan clenched his teeth…or tried to. His jaw wouldn’t close properly. He could feel his canines lengthening, cutting the inside of his mouth.
Stop. Frantic claws raked at his mind, trying to break free. Stop!
The driver glanced in the mirror again and swore under his breath. “Sir, you need help. Right now. I’m going to pull over and call an ambulance.”
No, he tried to say, but his tongue was no longer his own. He mutely shook his head, wrist pressed against his mouth to staunch the flow of blood.
“Fuck,” the driver muttered, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Look, sir, there’s a gas station up ahead. At least let me stop so you can clean yourself up, okay?”
A gas station. Yes. He just needed a moment of privacy to get himself back under control.
He nodded. With an audible sigh of relief, the driver flicked on the indicator, pulling into the gas station. It was only a small one; four pumps, a small store. A sign in the window read: RESTROOM–FOR CUSTOMERS ONLY.
The driver got out, hurrying round to open the car door for him. That was just as well. He didn’t think he could have managed the handle.
The driver’s throat bobbed nervously. “You want help, sir?”
“No,” he forced out. With an effort, he pulled himself upright. “Wait here.”
He pushed open the door of the gas station, struggling to walk on legs that wanted to bend the other way. The bored teen behind the counter gave him a disinterested glance, then did a double take. He shot to his feet, eyes widening in alarm.
Hunching to hide his face as much as he could, Shan lurched past the young man. The restroom turned out to be a single windowless cubicle, the walls streaked with mildew and scribbled graffiti.
Right now, it looked like paradise.
It took him three attempts to lock the door. He slumped to the ground, spilled toilet water soaking through the knees of his suit.
Control. Control.
Muscle twisted against bone. Agony wracked him as every part of his body fought to slide into a different shape. He bit down on his own arm, trying to muffle his scream.
“Hey!” Someone pounded on the door. “What’s going on in there?”
“I think he’s sick.” He could barely make out the driver’s voice through the howling pain. “He was bleeding in my back seat, but he didn’t want me to take him to the hospital.”
“Hey!” The pounding redoubled. “Hey, man, you alive in there?”
He couldn’t respond. His paw-hands clenched, claws digging long gashes into the floor.
“He might have collapsed. You got a way to open this?”
“Uh, yeah. Hang on.”
No, he wanted to shout, but a key was already rattling in the lock. He scrabbled away, pressing himself into the furthest corner as the door opened.
“Hey, man, are you—holy shit!”
He caught a single glimpse of two horrified faces before the door slammed shut again. The lock clicked.
“What are you doing? We gotta get out of here, man!”
“You want that thing coming after us? Help me block the door!”
Something thumped against the far side of the door. He tried to shoulder-charge it, but his distorted body refused to obey him. He slumped, claws dragging weakly across wood.
“It’s trying to get out! Oh God, oh God, oh God—”
“Just keep piling stuff up! I’m calling the cops!”
No, he tried to say, but it came out as a feral snarl. The crash of objects being hastily piled in front of the door redoubled.
Another spasm of pain twisted his spine. He curled in helpless agony, gray creeping in at the corners of his vision.
“Hello? Hello?” The driver’s frantic voice was the last thing he heard as everything drained away. “Yes, we need help! There’s a monster here!”