Chapter Eight - The Runaway

The Runaway

I stare into the flames dancing in front of my wide eyes. I've gone into some strange state of detachment. I can hear Liam's voice but my brain is no longer able to process his words. Instead I focus on the pain steadily increasing from the horrible bite on my neck.

Liam's mark that made me his.

It's not fair. I don't belong to him. I don't belong to anyone.

There's a pinch in my arm and a chemical taste in my mouth. Suddenly, the pain is gone and I'm on a high.

He just drugged me.

My eyes grow heavy so I let them close, feeling myself slipping into the abyss. I'm aware of Liam picking me up into his arms and carrying me back to bed. Then I fall into a dreamless sleep, the nothingness cold and unsettling.

When I wake the sun is up and there's a breakfast tray on the nightstand. I'm all alone and that horrible emptiness inside my heart has returned. My stomach is nauseous and once again I'm rushing to the bathroom to vomit from the drugs. When I'm done I splash cold water on my face and pull myself together.

I hate this. I hate the way I feel. I don't want any more of those damn shots.

Going back to the bedroom I sit on the bed. I feel much better now so I eat my breakfast with a strange sense of calm. There's a clean shirt and a pair of sweats laid out on the foot of the bed. Picking them up I shuffle back to the bathroom and inspect my neck. The wound is looking much better and I wonder how long I've slept.

It would definitely leave a scar. A vicious scar forever marking me as Liam's.

A mixture of both pleasure and sadness washes over me at that thought. The conflicted emotions are confusing. My brain just can't focus on that now so I shove it out of my head.

Deciding I no longer need the bandage I toss it in the trash and take a hot shower. Even in my detached state I groan with appreciation as the water strikes my sore muscles from multiple shower heads.

Tugging on my shirt a familiar scent strikes me. Raising the shirt collar to my nose I sniff the fabric, my eyelids fluttering with pleasure.

Liam.

This is Liam's shirt. The sweats are too. And far too big, I have to roll them up at my waist. Rolling the legs up to my calves I give myself a quick look over in the mirror. Liam's clothes drown my figure and any few curves I might have disappear under the baggy fabric.

I look ridiculous.

My lips tugging into a crazy smile I head back to the bedroom. I'm completely losing my mind. It's this place. It's that man. I can't stay here. I need to get the hell away.

My detachment evaporates to one of desperation. I have to escape.

Do not run.

I jump, glancing around. The voice was so much louder and clearer than it had ever been before.

Was that really my wolf?

And why wouldn't I run? Survival one-o-one, get as far away from the crazies as you can.

He is not crazy. He is our alpha.

I don't even fully understand what that means.

He is ours.

"He doesn't want us," I hiss into the air.

There's no response. Sighing, I lay back on the bed and mull over my options. I'm guessing the bedroom door is locked and even if I got it open I have no idea of the layout or the best route of escape.

My eyes travel to the French doors. I might be able to climb down, I'm a decent rock climber...or at least I was before the accident. Memories of climbing with my dad has tears pricking my eyes.

Holding my hand up over my face I watch it tremble. After just a little bit of activity and I feel so weak. Even if I wanted to escape I wouldn't make it very far. But after some rest...

I decide to take the chance. After nightfall I'm getting the hell out of here.

Resolved in my plan I roll to my side and sleep some more. When I wake again it's quiet and dark. There is another tray next to the bed. This time with what smells like dinner, a glass of juice, and a bottle of Ibuprofen. I breathe in relief, no shot.

I eat quickly, slightly pissed at myself for enjoying the juicy steak cooked to perfection. The whole time I watch the door nervously, expecting Liam to enter at any moment. When I'm done stuffing my face I feel much stronger than before. Strong enough to attempt an escape.

My heart starts to beat a little faster.

Sucking in a breath I quietly tip toe to the French doors and carefully open them wide enough to slip through. Outside the cold air wakes me up further, helping to pull me out of my fog. Glancing over the edge of the balcony I bite my lip, spying what I think is a good path along a wall of climbing ivy. If I can just make it through the grounds and to the street I might be able to wave down a car.

Rocking on the balls of my feet I try to psych myself up. It's freezing outside so the faster I move the better.

You will not make it.

The hell I won't.

Idiot.

I'm beginning to really dislike my wolf.

"Here we go," I whisper. Climbing over the edge of the balcony I try not to look down - or think about falling - and grab a hold of a thick vine. Maneuvering myself away from the balcony I find my footing and begin to make my way down. Within seconds my muscles are protesting and sweat beads on my brow. I can feel myself growing weaker and weaker with each passing second.

Taking a break, I loop my tired arms through some vines and catch my breath. My wolf was right. This was a bad idea.

You never listen.

"Shut up," I mumble, squeezing my eyes shut. The fact that I'm talking to another being doesn't escape my mind. Trying my best to keep my breathing calm I glance up and down. I'm halfway down and there is no point in trying to climb back up.

Resolved I summon up as much strength as I can and start climbing down again. My legs start to shake from both weakness and the cold, my fingers growing stiff. A brisk breeze picks up, biting at my skin and causing the leaves to rustle eerily.

Fear creeps up my spine. It's too cold and I'm too weak. I'm going to fall.

My muscles give way and just like that I'm plunging towards the ground. A scream catches in my throat just as I land on the grass with a soft thump.

Lying on my back I stare up in surprise. I'm not dead. Not dead. Not dead. I only fell a couple feet.

God damn, I'm like a cat. I swear I have nine lives.

Excuse me? A Cat?

"It's a metaphor," I whisper.

Uh-huh.

I struggle to stand, bending over and bracing my hands on my knees to catch my breath. I can't waste time. I know how fast Liam is.

I hit the ground running, heading for the cover of the woods.

The grass feels soft and damp under my feet. And the chill autumn air makes my teeth chatter. The tree line is so far and I'm exposed out here in the open lawn. My muscles scream in agony but I push forward, finally hitting the woods. The foliage is thicker than I expected. I know I'm making too much noise but I don't stop. My adrenaline is pumping, my heart slamming in my chest like a hammer.

I just have to make it to the street.

With each passing moment that I put distance between myself and Moorwood the greater the emptiness inside me becomes. It's nearly unbearable and a secret part of me wants to go back, to find Liam and bury myself against him.

But I can't go back. I have to escape.

Branches scratch at my exposed skin and face, rocks and tree stumps digging into my feet. I can't see where I'm going and I have no idea if I'm even headed in the right direction anymore. What if I get lost out here? In this cold just how long can I survive?

My body finally gives way to exhaustion and I collapse to the ground. Fighting back tears I wrap my arms around myself, hoping to hold in some body heat.

I'm cold and lost and scared.

How did I not realize just how far I had to run? There's no way I can make it. Not in this condition. Not in the dark and cold.

Raising my eyes, I nearly jump out of my skin. There's a shadow of a man standing just a few feet away. His eyes flash blue in the darkness. A werewolf. It's another one!

"Who are you?" I ask shakily. I know it's not Liam. He doesn't have the right build. This man is tall and lean.

He doesn't answer, stepping towards me, silent as a ghost. As he grows closer my eyes are able to pick out his features in the darkness. Most importantly the pair of white headphones he's wearing.

The stranger from the bookstore. And he's one of them. A werewolf.

"Stay away!" I cry.

He rolls his eyes and says nothing. Reaching down he snatches me up and hauls me over his shoulder as if I weigh nothing more than a feather.

"Hey, you ass! Put me down!" I shout, beating weakly at his back.

He ignores me and starts running back in the direction I came. Fast. Really fast. The forest passes by in a blur and just like that we're out of the woods and heading back towards Moorwood.

All that work to escape for nothing.

Instead of feeling scared I become angry. Really angry. These people have no right! "Put me down, right now!" I scream, jabbing my elbow hard against his back.

He grunts but remains silent. That crap is frustrating!

He's running fast but doesn't seem to be slowing down as we near the estate. I let out a soft yelp of surprise when out of nowhere he leaps through the air and lands quiet as a bird on the balcony three stories up.

Before my brain can even wrap around what just happened my eyes land on the man waiting inside. Liam is standing by the bed with arms crossed, a look of pure fury on his handsome face. As soon as we enter the bedroom both the stranger and I stiffen as Liam lets out a low growl.

"Put her down, Jin. Now," Liam barks.

The stranger shrugs, setting me gently on the floor.

Liam immediately reaches out, snatching my arm and pulling me against him. His thumb brushes over a scratch on my cheek and his eyes turn bright blue. Snarling, Liam glares at the other man. "You were told to bring her back, not treat her like a damn rag doll."

If this Jin person is at all upset over Liam's attitude he doesn't show it. Instead he turns up the volume on his headphones and leaves without a word.

What the hell is up with that guy?

A soft growl snatches my attention. Liam is staring down at me intently and I don't like the look in his eyes.

He is angry.

No shit, Sherlock.

Summoning up my courage I tug on my arm. "Let me go."

"No," he replies swiftly.

"Liam, let me go!" I shout angrily.

His hand tightens around my arm and I flinch out of reflex, unsure what he will do. But instead of harming me, Liam pulls me tighter against his chest, his nose burying against my neck.

"What are you doing?" I hiss.

"Just stay still," he orders gruffly. His hands are all over me, his nose in my hair, his pelvis pressed tight against my hip. I can feel his arousal and my own body tightens with awareness.

"Liam," I whimper.

"His scents all over you," he responds tightly. His voice is thick and rough. I feel his lips trail lightly over his mark. "You shouldn't have run."

Suddenly, I can't remember why I did. It feels so good to be back with him. So right. The emptiness inside me lessening. I can breathe with him here. "I had to," I say softly.

"So stubborn. You have no idea do you? If I had chased you-" he breaks off with a groan. Then he backs away from me quickly. "Never attempt to escape me again."

Just like that the illusion vanishes. My need to be near him is replaced by anger. "You don't tell me what to do."

"I am the alpha of this pack," he bites back, clearly agitated.

"That doesn't mean anything to me," I reply with equal frustration.

Running a hand through his hair he exhales loudly. "I know. But for now it doesn't matter. We'll discuss this tomorrow. You need to rest. Go back to bed."

Again he's ordering me around. My contempt for this man is growing by the second. "What I need is to go home."

"No," he says sternly.

"I hate you," I whisper.

He flinches. "That's not what I want, Abigail."

"Then what do you want?" I ask tearfully. Damn it, why did I have to start crying? Only babies cry.

He stares down at me for a moment before replying gently, "What I want is for you to rest. We can discuss this tomorrow."

I glare at him through my tears. I'm exhausted, cold, and in pain. In this moment I'm helpless and I know when I've been beaten. "Fine," I relent. Climbing back into bed I roll to my side and turn my back to him. When I feel the bed dent and the warmth of Liam's body lying next to me I immediately stiffen. "What are you doing?"

"Relax," he grates. "You're freezing." His arms wrap around me, turning me towards his chest. He's so warm and he smells so good. I can't seem to stop myself from curling up against him. I feel like this is where I belong.

I don't want to belong with him.

"You're not going to drug me again?" I mumble against his chest. My eyes are heavy so I let them drift shut.

"No, Abigail," Liam's warm voice washes over me as I start to fall asleep. "I'm not going to drug you ever again."