The wolves were near, closing in, and she was there. Her scent sang to him, her fear torqueing his own a millionfold. She had every right to be terrified—if the wolf got to her first, she was as good as dead.
The mark of the beast that etched Cal’s forearm burned with her proximity. The prophecy had, for once, been clear and non-cryptic—she would be at this fair on this night, and he would have only moments to save her life.
Cal pulled the cloak from his backpack as he ran. He pushed himself faster, tossing the bag aside once the cloak was free, his gaze darting, searching for a lone woman standing, frightened, with a beast breathing down her neck, ready to strike.
He narrowed his eyes. In the distance, on the outermost edge of the carnival’s borders, near the dark forest that surrounded it, there she stood. The beast’s paws cradling her head—touching what belonged to him. Anger and possessive rage gripped Cal. She is mine.
He ran toward her, opening the cloak and bellowing his fury. Seconds later, his men returned his call, their own shouts echoing from all around him. The wolf turned its dirty yellow glare in his direction seconds before Cal jumped. He slammed into her with more force than he’d intended but was relieved that the momentum pushed her out of the beast’s grasp as he enveloped her in the cloak.
The roar of rage that followed was like an icy hand gripping his heart. With the Huntress secure in the cloak, the beast would not be able to see or find her. She was safe so long as she wore it. It would disorient the pack enough to give Cal a chance to run with her, because even though she was invisible to them, he was not. Fleeing was the only sure way for her to live.
Cal hoisted her up, tightening his grip as he heaved her over his shoulder. When she started to struggle, he locked her legs in place against his chest. She may not like it, but he was determined to get her to safety, to protect what was his—a thought that had him itching for a little wolfie ass-kicking. Although he couldn’t actually kill the beasts—only the Huntresses could do that—he could leave his mark, and for touching his woman… Yeah, he’d be very happy to embed his blade in ol’ Lazarus’s gut. Shoving that thought aside and with his men falling in to cover them, Cal turned on his heel and ran in the opposite direction, ignoring the instinct to fight in favor of securing the Huntress until they could get her back to the mansion.
Zigzagging at breakneck speed through the maze of tents, trailers and carnival rides was a good way to lose any wolves that dared follow him, but it was also an excellent way to get lost. At least his Huntress wasn’t battling him. Her body moved and swayed with his as he ran. Although it made for an easier trek, her docility was a little disappointing. He had hoped his Huntress would have a little more fire in her.
Cal skidded to a halt when he reached a dead end, cursing at his lousy sense of direction. A peninsula of trees that jutted from the forest loomed before him. As tempting as the notion was, he could just make out their vehicles on the other side of the small stretch of foliage, he couldn’t go in there, not with her anyway. The forest belonged to the beasts.
As if to second that conviction, a wolf called, its eerie howl far too close for his liking. Just as he’d feared, at least one of the pack had broken away from the fight. He needed to get the Huntress to safety, and it would be easier to do if she was running on her own two legs.
He moved back, away from the forest and around one of the carnival trailers, sweeping his gaze over every potential hiding place. Once he was satisfied that nothing lurked in the shadows, he gripped her waist and made ready to lower her from his shoulder when the scraping sound of claws on gravel touched his ears. Cal froze and slowly turned, adjusting the Huntress’s weight in case he had to run again. Peering around the trailer, he caught sight of a lone wolf venturing into the carnival grounds and heading away from them. It was a momentary reprieve. It wouldn’t take the beast long to track his scent. He had no choice. It was time to fight.
Cal moved deeper into the shadows, traveling a few more steps down the length of the trailer before lowering the Huntress as gently as he could, more intent on unsheathing his sword than worrying about whether or not she got a few bruises. The second her body hit the ground, she began grunting and cursing, clearly desperate to get herself out of the cloak. Panic flared as he quickly glanced over his shoulder, half expecting the beast to beeline right for them with all the noise she was making. With a rough curse of his own, Caleb placed his sword on the ground next to him and struggled to release her from the folds of the cloth, cursing even more when he became tangled in her frenzy to be free.
“Will you stay still?” he barked, his frustration growing. “I’m trying to get you out of there.”