Rune glared over his shoulder at her.
Answers he would get one way or the other.
Chapter 5
Callie revised her previous thought as Bear dragged her through the woods, looking ready to murder her and bury her body where no one would find it. She hadn’t gone from one bad situation to another.
She had gone from being in shit to being in deep shit. Up to her neck level deep shit.
She tossed a glance at her surroundings, gaze darting everywhere as she hobbled along behind the big brute, seeking an escape route even when she knew he was right. Running would get her nowhere. She could probably manage a shift, but her leg was in agony, would slow her down or force her back out of her wolf form. She was too tired now, wasn’t sure she would be able to hold on to her other form if she shifted and the pain became too much.
Bear would easily catch her and she was starting to believe that his threats weren’t idle ones. He wasn’t trying to scare her. He was just speaking the truth. If she ran, he would catch her, and she would end up on the receiving end of the barely-leashed anger that had flashed in his eyes a moment ago.
When he had thought she was running from Archangel.
She had no love for the hunter organisation herself, but the spark of cold fire that had lit his eyes had made it clear that he despised Archangel and everyone in it, giving her the impression he’d had some bad personal experiences with them.
Really bad.
In her life, she had met a few people who had suffered at the hands of Archangel, whether it was through the hunters murdering family members during a raid or because they had taken them captive for a time.
None of them had looked fit to kill someone just because they thought they might be leading hunters from that organisation towards their home.
She wasn’t sure Bear believed her when she said she wasn’t involved with them, and she wasn’t sure he would believe a word she said if she did tell him why she was running. She wasn’t really sure of anything where this male was concerned. Something about him had her off-balance, had her acting out of character. She had been raised a good wolf, an obedient female despite her desire to break the invisible chains that bound her, keeping her in her place.
Something about Bear made her wild, feral, made it impossible to control herself. Headbutting him had been a terrible idea, and she had known it, but some part of her, some instinct deep within her, had pushed her to do it.
Had pushed her to push him.
She had never had a death wish before, but she felt certain this was what one felt like.
She meant to be calm and controlled around Bear, meant to do as he wanted and not incite him.
Only she kept ending up doing the opposite.
She huffed when all she saw were trees, trees and more trees. The night was a deep dark without a moon to brighten it, made it hard for her to make out anything beyond thirty or forty feet. If she ran, she could end up running straight off an earth cliff like the one she had been forced to scale before she had been caught in the trap. The last thing she needed was to hurt herself even worse than she already was.
What she really needed to do was heal, but that meant she needed time to rest, and that meant Carrigan would be closing the distance between them. Unless how dark it was tonight without the moon forced him to rest too. Trying to track her in the darkness would be difficult, even if he had her scent to follow. For all his faults, Carrigan was a shrewd male, one who might decide it was more sensible for him and his men to rest for the night to recover their strength and then pursue her at daybreak.
Which meant she might have until dawn before she had to make another run for it.
She glanced at the back of Bear’s head, at a small number and letter tattooed on his spine just above the collar of his black T-shirt.
082-B.
“Odd tattoo.” Her voice sounded loud in the darkness.
Bear’s shoulders stiffened and he tossed a black look at her before he faced front again.
And tugged on his T-shirt so the collar rose up enough to cover the tiny inked number and letter.
What did it mean? Did B stand for Bear?
She frowned as a possible explanation hit her. Was her theory that Bear had a bad history with Archangel right, and for some reason the hunter group had tattooed him with this number? She had never heard of Archangel marking non-humans in such a way, but maybe they did.
It would explain why he seemed so ashamed of it and hadn’t wanted her to see it.
She wanted to ask about it, that part of her that, for some godsdamned reason, wanted to provoke Bear mingling with the part of her that was curious about him. Only a cabin emerged from the gloom ahead of her, capturing her attention. Her pulse drummed faster, fear swift to shoot into her veins as she stared at the old, run-down log cabin and then at the back of Bear’s head.
Callie leaned back and tugged on his arm, trying to break free of his hold as fear got the better of her again, filled her mind with images she tried to shut out. Bear looked back at her, his dark eyebrows knitting hard above icy eyes.
Icy eyes that softened a little as they met hers. A mirage. She was imagining that slight thawing, that almost regretful edge they gained before they hardened again and he turned away from her.
“Not going to hurt you, Wolf.” His bass voice rolled over her, smooth and even, no trace of malevolence in it. “Just need to find us some shelter for the night. You can rest that leg while you answer my questions.”
The effect his words had on her was instantaneous. The fear that had blasted through her fell away, the images her tired mind was throwing at her swift to dissipate, and she relaxed a little as she hobbled along behind him. For all his glowering at her, his threats and his gruffness, Bear was a gentleman.
More so than the wolves in Carrigan’s pack anyway.
Gods, she hated how her short time there had coloured her opinion of all males, had made her expect every one of them to be like them—thinking they could just have any female they wanted, whether she wanted it or not.
She sighed.
Bear angled his head slightly towards her and then faced forwards. He took the steps up onto the rickety deck of the small cabin and opened the door while she mounted them behind him. She gripped the frame of the door as she followed him into the room, her hand trailing off it as she took in her surroundings and limped forwards.
Her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness, but she could make out a few things. Like the fact this cabin was tiny—one small room. No one had lived here in a long time either. There wasn’t even a kitchen. A few poorly constructed cabinets lined the wall to her right and there was a bench beneath the window near the door. The drapes were tattered and didn’t fully cover the window as Bear pulled them closed with one hand.
The fingers of his other hand slowly flexed around her wrist. For a cold bastard, he had warm hands. He helped her forwards, deeper into the room, and turned her and eased her down into a wooden chair. It creaked beneath her. Probably had woodworm or was so ancient it was going to turn to dust at any moment.
Bear released her, went to the door and closed it. He rifled through the cupboards. Looking for food? She didn’t even want to think about what he might find to eat in a place like this. She pulled a face at it as she took it in. Besides the log burner to her right, that had to be one of the first ever made, there was a small worn bed behind her that looked ready to collapse, and two more wooden chairs, both to her left.