Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
NATALIE
I’m not sure how many glasses of wine Jade and I polished off by the time we left the dining room, but it was clearly enough to make navigating the hallways an adventure.
I think I’ve passed the same portraits of past alphas three times so far, and when I walk by them again, I’m certain those haunting red eyes follow me.
Or it’s the wine talking. I don’t know, anymore.
I can honestly say I walk a bit straighter through the castle, especially after tonight.
Sure, some part of Jade might still want me dead, but now, I don’t think it has anything to do with Nik or her pack.
Retaliation for the scars on her chest could be one reason.
Making the heiress cough up wine on the table in front of chef Claudé when I told her about the full moon where I found a very naked Nik chained to the floor and accused him of a bondage fetish?
Yeah, that’s definitely another reason. But I’m not looking over my shoulder, anymore.
Not waiting for a random set of claws to magically appear and decorate the halls with my organs.
For the first time since we arrived here, I’m comfortable existing in my own skin.
When I finally conquer the maze and reach the west wing, my stomach twists as an eerie sense of dread washes over me.
The door to our room. I know I closed it when I left.
But now, it’s cracked enough to let the light inside spill out only to be swallowed by the darkness of the hallway.
An uncomfortable shiver races down my spine, leaving every hair on my neck to stand proud.
I force down the granite-sized lump in my throat and tiptoe forward, doing my best to mask my heartbeat.
“H—hello?” I stammer, ear aimed to the door. I can’t hear anything. Not when the rapid rise of my heartbeat seems to block out the noise around me. “Is someone in there?”
I mutter obscenities under my breath, praying to both the divine and the cursed there isn’t someone or something waiting in there to take a bite out of me.
Drawing out my claws, I round the corner, feeling the sudden shift of my blood go from ice cold to burning hot in seconds.
The moment my nails reach their deadly peaks it’s like a switch inside me flips.
I am still myself, sure, but different somehow.
My heightened senses don’t just come back, they triple.
No heartbeats, and the scent of the room is the same as before.
The bedding still has the bloody remains of my fight with Jade, giving the musty air with a hint of copper.
There’s something that stands out above it, though.
A delicious fucking aroma I’d give anything to bottle and keep for myself. It’s Nik. Except now … it’s stronger.
Nestled on the bed is a folded slip of paper, Little Wolf scrawled on the outer edge. I pick it up, unraveling the note to find four words scribbled inside. Come and find me.
Someone really needs to write a How-To Werewolf For Dummies, primarily a detailed guide on the do’s and don’ts of tracking.
Finding Nik’s scent isn’t the problem, not when my nose is tuned to him.
The issue is finding the most recent scent when every hallway of the castle smells like him.
No matter which way I go, the distinct aroma of Nikolai fucking Vostik taunts me.
I’ve been to the chamber. Alexey’s crafting room.
Clément’s study. The dining hall three separate times, and finally, right back to square one, our room.
There must be a better way to track him if he’s somewhere on the grounds. Of course, his scent is strongest here. It’s on the blankets. The pillows. Everything he’s touched. Even that stupid note—
My eyes widen as realization dawns on me.
I’ve been going about this all wrong. He left me the note for a reason.
The way a handler might bring clothes to help tracking dogs locate a missing person.
I was just following any trace of him I could find.
Relying on my ears as well as my eyes. But that’s not going to work, not for this. I have to search for him like a wolf.
I bring the paper to my nose and draw in as much of him from it as I can.
Then, I sniff the air, praying to get a lock on what direction he went in.
There’s a trace of him from when he left to talk to Alexey.
It’s faint. Not nearly as potent. The other one is as strong as the paper in my hands. A small grin forms on my face. Gotcha.
Armed with his most recent scent, I travel through the stone maze, this time maneuvering the corridors almost blindly.
Sure, it’s dark, but I don’t need to see when I’m able to follow his exact footsteps on instinct alone.
I sniff the air, locking onto every turn, every brief pause, everywhere he touched.
I finally understand why it was so easy for him to stalk me around LA.
As a human, I didn’t stand a chance. And now, neither does he.
I follow the trail to the front doors where his scent is strongest in the castle.
I’m not sure how long ago he was here, but if I had to guess, it was recently.
Two guards stand post at each side, both shouldering rifles and staring forward with a keen, undeterred focus.
If they hear me enter the foyer, they sure as hell don’t show it.
No, they keep staring ahead and don’t even bother looking in my direction.
“Hi, uhm, I just need to get some fresh air,” I lie. A harmless one, to be fair, but they don’t need to know I’m on some wild goose chase to hunt down my werewolf boyfriend somewhere on the grounds.
One of them jerks his militant glare to me and faces forward equally as fast. “Guests aren’t permitted outside after dark.”
I laugh nervously. “That kind of sounds like I’m a prisoner …”
Neither say a word, and their faces remain stiffer than the solid oak exit behind them.
I sniff the air again for good measure. He was here, all right. And he walked right through those doors. “Do these rules apply to everyone? Even Nikolai Vostik?”
The foyer falls silent. And while neither of them move an inch, one of their heartbeats gives a single, irregular thump. He knows Nik went this way. He probably opened the door for him, too.
“Mr. Vostik has permission to venture anywhere on the property from the alpha,” the guard spits out as if reading from a cue card. “This does not extend to the members of his party.”
I open my mouth and take a step forward, immediately regretting it.
They snap the rifle barrels in my direction. The guards don’t say a word. Christ, they don’t even blink. They simply line up the front and rear sights, taking aim at the only target in the room. Me.
“Arrêt!” someone shouts behind me, and both of the guards lower their rifles to the floor without question. Soft, graceful footsteps echo in the foyer as she approaches and positions herself at my side. Jade.
I don’t need a translator to know what she’s saying to them, not when her tone is as lethal as her claws.
One of the guards, the higher ranking I assume, nods a few times too many and bows, first at her, then to me.
Jade pivots, her scowl replaced with her usual poised expression.
“Enjoy your fresh air,” she says, her accent heaviest on fresh air.
“Oh, and don’t track mud on floors. We aren’t animals, after all,” she says, disappearing from the foyer the same way she entered, elegant and damn near silent.
Standing tall, I march through the threshold, passing the guards with identical stone-like faces.
It doesn’t take long for the large door to slam shut behind me, severing the castle warmth and the corridors filled with the scent of the man challenging me to hunt him.
Now there’s only one trace of him, and it leads exactly where I thought it might.
I take another whiff of his note and start down the trail of padded dirt to the large cropping of trees in the distance. He’s in there somewhere. I know it. Ready or not, Nik. Here. I. Come.
I don’t know if I’m cut out for this hunting thing.
Sure, it sounded kind of hot on the surface.
Stalk around the property using all of my senses to corner Nik in some deep part of the woods.
Shirtless and waiting for me—I mean, it’s my hunt, I can imagine it any way I want.
But no. Not a single part of this little adventure comes close to what I pictured the second I stepped through those castle doors.
It’s cold. Eerily quiet given how far I am from the front gates.
I can barely make out the soldier’s voices now, much less their heartbeats.
Worst of all, it’s almost pitch freaking black.
Even practically full, the moon doesn’t stand a chance against the trees blocking out the sky.
It’s dark in here. Obscure. Difficult to navigate when relying on my hearing and smell alone.
I trudge forward, making it to a small clearing with the silhouette of a canine-shaped rock standing between me and a deeper part of the forest. It’s large.
Huge, in fact. And it splits out of the ground like hell wanted to show the rest of the world its teeth.
That’s when I realize I didn’t end up here by mistake.
No, I was led here. Made to traverse the beaten path of this forest to find where his scent was the strongest. And it’s coming from the rock a few paces in front of me.
A handprint.
His handprint.
It’s fresh. Warm. Blood still trickles from one of his fingers to the impression of his palm.