“And when are you going to… shift?” I pictured that huge pale wolf, the glowing golden eyes, and decided it wasn’t the time to ask if I could pet him, too.
“Once we get off the road,” he said. “I can carry the bag unless you want it, but you probably want to keep the gun, and you might as well take my phone while you’re at it. Just don’t run off with my spare clothes, especially in this weather.” There was the slightest glint of humor in his eyes as he said the last part.
I was pretty sure that if he had to be naked in this storm he would simply melt all the snow in his vicinity, but chances were his ego did not need the unnecessary boost. I mean, look at him. Besides, I was trying desperately to hide the constant attraction that I felt for him. Whenever he smiled at me, spoke to me, or hell, was within eyesight, it felt like we were both holding onto a rope and with every second that passed, he was slowly but surely reeling me in. Which made me sound like a fish, but there were moments where I felt almost hunted. Lured into something I didn’t understand.
Yet, I also felt safe around him in a way I couldn’t explain.
No, I was being silly. The sheriff was someone who is hunting me. This man? Or rather, this wolf shifter? I don't know what the hell his deal is, but he was one of the only people so far that tried to help me without hurting me or demanding something in return. It felt rather nice.
Guard up, Cara. Men always want something.
Once we reached the stop sign, Wyatt quickly started stripping down. His muscles bulged as he pulled his shirt over his head. “Can you smell the scent Luke told us about?” he asked, voice slightly muffled.
Embarrassed, I averted my eyes as the rest of his clothes came off and inhaled deeply. I smelled… him. Nothing else. “No. I thought you had to be a wolf to smell it. Or some kind of animal.”
“Humans are animals,” came the wry reply. A moment later a warm wet nose was nudging my hand, and I was staring into the wickedly intelligent eyes of one of the most gorgeous animals I've ever seen in my life. I wanted to touch his fur, see if it was as silky and soft and thick as it looked, but fisted my hand instead.
“You understand what I'm saying when you're in that form, right?” I asked.
The beautiful, majestic beast nodded.
“Well, you can carry the bag, but I get to keep the gun and phone. So you better not piss me off.”
He made a strange noise, somewhere between a bark and what sounded oddly like a human laugh, and set off into the woods at a steady rate that looked a lot slower than what he could usually run at, bag held firmly in his jaws. Drawing in a deep breath, and patting my coat pockets where the gun and cell were, I took off after him, soon falling into a steady-state jog that matched his.
The air was sharp and cold, and the snow caressed my skin like a lover. Compared to my earlier, fear-driven sprints, this felt almost effortless, and I smiled in sheer pleasure. Yes, I was still in danger, but for the first time in forever, I felt free. Wyatt stayed next to me, occasionally speeding up ahead to scope out the area. If he left my line of sight, it was always less than a minute before he came back, sometimes indicating that we had to alter course to the right or left. Sometimes he fell behind, clearly on the lookout for anyone following.
What it would be like to move like a wolf, to feel the ground race under four paws, to reach speeds and sensory experiences that no human would ever get to try? Something shifted under my skin, like every muscle decided to spasm at the same time. I broke out in a cold sweat, instantly fearful that something was wrong, but the sensation went away as quickly as it had shown up.
Weird.
I jogged for as long as I could, until breathing felt like small blades sawing up and down in my throat and the coat that had originally felt light as a feather and warm as a blanket felt more like chainmail, slowly but surely dragging my upper body down to the ground. I sensed no frustration or disappointment from Wyatt, only concern and understanding.
After what felt like an eternity of pushing, I had to stop and bend over, trying to breathe through the stich in my side. Two hours, my ass. “I'm sorry. I can't go that fast anymore,” I said. I had to take a few gasps of air in between every other word, pressing one hand hard against my side. You ever get a stitch in your side, my father told me when I was a kid trying to avoid bullies on the block, you slow your pace if you can, but run through it. It’ll go away. “Let me rest for a moment, let me walk a bit, and then I'll get back to running again.”
He licked my hand gently in understanding, the motion bringing such a sensation of warmth and caring that tears clogged the back of my throat out of nowhere. Then he started walking, forcing me to power through my exhaustion to keep up. This went on for what felt like forever. I would jog, and then walk. Jog and walk. Every time, the time spent jogging decreased, and the time spent walking increased.
When I crashed, it was sudden. One moment I was walking up a slight incline, Wyatt having run ahead again, and the next thing I knew I was on my knees, quivering arms the only thing that stopped me from face-planting fully into the snow. I tried to get back up, but my legs were jelly and refused to move. Tears of frustration leaked from the corners of my eyes, and I gritted my teeth against a sob.
There was a bark, and Wyatt’s huge form came sprinting to me. I looked back down, focusing on trying to push myself back on my feet, unwilling to see any sort of pity on his canine face. A warm tongue on my face lapped away the tears, and then the bag he carried in his mouth fell into the snow in front of me. I knew what he was about to do.
“No,” I said. “I promise you I can keep going. You don't need to change back. Just give me a moment.”
To be fair, he did give me a minute, but when the most I could do at that point was crawl forward a bit on my hands and knees and not much else, he clearly had enough. With a strange crunching noise that made my stomach turn, he shifted back to human form, quickly diving into the bag for his clothing as I stared at the ground to give him privacy. Not that he seemed to care. I guess if you were a shifter, nudity was something that came with the ability to switch to four legs whenever you want. “You've been running on nothing but adrenaline and maybe some water for over twenty-four hours at this point. It's no wonder that you're out of energy.”
I glanced up and he was wearing boots, pants, a shirt, and had a jacket over his arm. He knelt next to me, concern clear, and brushed hair out of my face. I closed my eyes at the gentle touch, and a second later his warm coat was draped over my shoulders.
“You need to keep warm,” I protested, but pulled it tighter around my shoulders. The heat, the scent, everything about it felt so incredibly luxurious that I held the edges tightly around me and tried not to moan in pleasure. It wasn't quite like when he’d put his arms around me when I set the van on fire, but it was close enough.
“Do you have the strength to hop on and stay on my back?” he asked.