: Chapter 37

Savannah

I shut the door to my room and slumped against it, thankful for the privacy and space to think without the wolves reading into my thoughts or watching me dry heave.

I surveyed my surroundings. The room had a light green carpet, a double bed, and a TV. Basic but clean, just like Jaxson’s—minus the new blood stains and spit on the floor.

It was so conventional, like a snapshot out of my life before the nightmare began.

My mind flooded with visions of the blood demons chasing me through the forest. The she-wolf tearing her own throat out. The poor guy in the cabin, surrounded by blood bags and needles. And Sam locked in that cold room.

I’d seriously need a therapist after all this shit.

I heard Jaxson’s truck start. Thank God. I desperately needed something to eat, because all I’d had today was a bowl of Count Chocula for breakfast—which was just as deliciously bad the second time—Sam’s chips, and the ancient tasting protein bar from Jaxson’s glove box.

Still, it had been good instinct not to eat before drinking the scrying potion. The world was still spinning slightly, my throat burned, and my legs were weak. Hopefully, the potion didn’t have any long-term side effects. My stomach tightened at the thought. I’d have to ask Uncle Pete about that.

I dragged my hand through my hair and groaned when my fingers touched a clod of moss.

God, I was so dirty.

A hot shower suddenly seemed like the antidote to most of my problems.

Thirty minutes later, I collapsed onto the bed with the bag of potato chips I’d snagged from the car. Showered, hair washed, and teeth brushed, things didn’t seem so grim.

I stared at the stuccoed ceiling as I popped a chip in my mouth. Typically, I never ate chips, but at the moment, they were the best thing I’d ever tasted.

Sam had purchased them.

They turned to ash on my tongue as guilt poured through me.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Just a second.” I pulled on a clean pair of shorts and a V-neck shirt, then ran my fingers through my damp hair and opened the door.

My breath hitched at the sight of Jaxson. He hadn’t showered yet, and the dried dirt, blood, and sweat on his thick forearms stirred an earthy desire deep within. He was all beast, powerful, rough, and sinfully sexy.

His eyes took me in, lingering on my wet hair, and his pupils dilated. But instead of jumping me, he handed me two large white takeout bags. “I brought you dinner. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered a couple things.”

Jaxson’s voice was deep and husky, which only ratcheted up my inexplicable, animalistic desires. My cheeks blazed, and I broke my gaze from his. The aromas of whatever was inside the takeout bags had my mouth watering.

To be fair, the man had my mouth watering, too, and it was hard to tell the difference. I was really hungry. I leaned on the door, unsure what to do. “Thanks. Have you eaten? Do you…want to come in?”

His eyes flicked to my chip-covered bed, then back to mine. “No, I have to get ready. But I’ll be next door for a couple hours. The zenith of the moon should be around twelve-forty-five tonight, and I’ll head down to the shore.”

“Are you sure I can’t come?”

“You cannot come.”

“Why? Do you soak yourself in wine and dance around naked? Hold a pagan orgy? Sing love songs to coax down the moon?” I twisted my hair.

A sly grin spread across his face. “And which of those would you be hoping to see?”

I blushed. My mouth had a tendency to run sometimes. “The singing, of course.”

He sniffed and leaned in close. “I can tell when you’re lying. I think I know exactly what you would like to see.”

Searing heat rushed through my body—which, of course, he could also smell. I swung the door shut, but he stopped it with his hand. “I’ll return soon. There will be a dozen wolves guarding the motel—Regina, Billy, Tony, a whole crew. If anything seems out of the ordinary, go to them. They’ll keep you safe.”

Great. I really was in werewolf witness protection. My nail beds itched at the thought, and I rolled my eyes out of habit, but in light of how things had gone recently, I was prepared to accept the situation. For now.

Jaxson pulled his handgun out and handed it to me, butt first. “Just in case.”

It was a silver Glock 17 with gorgeous decorative etching that was cool to the touch. This was the kind of protection I liked—men handing me firearms.

I gave him a sultry smile for that. “Thanks. Good luck tonight, Jaxson.”

“One more thing.” His hand caught the door again as I was shutting it. “Do not scry again. Not without me there.”

He locked me with his dark eyes, and I felt his alpha voodoo wash over me. I straightened my spine and fought it, but Jaxson had enough on his mind already, so I nodded.

“I promise.” Probably. I didn’t need his permission to scry.

He tensed. “I’m serious, Savannah. Don’t do it.”

I knew it was irrational after what had just happened, but the sharp and commanding tone of his voice only made me want to refuse. Then again, I was starving and needed this conversation to be over before my takeout got cold. “Fine. I promise I won’t scry again tonight.”

Satisfied, he turned and left.

Shaking my head, I shut the door and secured the deadbolt, then peeked inside the bags. Mushroom and truffle ravioli, steak tartare, and lemon-roasted chicken breast. Where had he even gotten this out here? I knew there were some fancy tourist restaurants in the area, but damn, Jaxson had nailed it.

I tore off the lids of all three and dug into them, totally prepared for the food coma that would follow. I didn’t have a funky werewolf-only moon ritual to attend. Each bite was tastier than the last, and I groaned as my stomach filled.

Ten minutes later, I unbuttoned my shorts and leaned back against the headboard, eying the empty containers at the foot of my bed. I was hungrier than I’d thought. Exhausted from the day and the meal, I closed my eyes and drifted off.

I woke to the buzzing of my phone. Groggy and sore, I glanced at the clock on the side table—twelve-thirty a.m. I’d been out for a couple of hours. I found three texts on my phone from Casey, and silently cursed.

The first had come at ten-forty: Hey cuz. I need status reports. I need to know if some freaky monster is drinking you like a cheap bag of wine.

An hour later: It’s almost midnight. You okay? Why aren’t you answering?

The latest: If you don’t answer in five, I’m calling in the troops.

Which either meant he was going to call the cops or the sorcerers. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

Damn it, Casey.

I typed out a text: Sorry, fell asleep. Still alive and full of juice. I’ll tell you in the morning.

As I slumped back on the bed, the rumble of engines outside caught my attention. Was Jaxson back from his ritual early? Buttoning my shorts, I climbed out of bed and peeked through the curtains. Four high rider trucks were pulling into the parking lot. I squinted as they flashed on their roof lights, which were brighter than day.

My nerves buzzed. This is all wrong.

I slid over the bed and grabbed Jaxson’s pistol off the table just as gunfire exploded across the parking lot.

Bullets ripped into our parked vehicles. Then my window exploded, shooting glass everywhere. I dropped to the ground, landing hard on my stomach. The pistol skidded across the floor.

A black object rolled to a stop three feet from where I lay. I froze as a jet of smoke erupted from the end of the object and began filling the room with a loud hiss.

A smoke bomb?

As the gas surrounded me, tears sprang to my eyes, and my skin blistered.

I knew that scent. Not just a smoke bomb—wolfsbane. Scrambling across the carpet on hands and knees, I grabbed the gun and darted into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

My pulse hammered in my temples.

This is an ambush. Think, think, think.

My eyes landed on the small window above the shower. It was only a couple feet wide. Jaxson and his wolfy goons couldn’t have gotten through, but there was just enough space for me to fit.

I tucked the gun into the back of my shorts and climbed onto the toilet, then wrenched the window open and pushed out the screen. Wood cracked and glass shattered, and suddenly, there were voices coming from my bedroom. Fear and adrenaline coursed through me. I grabbed the sill and yanked myself up through the window. There wasn’t enough room for me to slide my legs around, so I went headfirst. Once I had enough of my upper body dangling out of the window, gravity took control. Arms outstretched, I plummeted into the ground. Pain shot through my palms, and I rolled onto my back.

Another splintering crash and the sound of shouting erupted through the opening: “She got out the window! Go around back!”

Oh, crap. I scrambled to my feet. I’d tweaked something in my wrist, but at least I hadn’t broken my damn neck.

The air was cool, and the moonlight illuminated the grassy yard that stretched to the woods behind the motel. I looked both ways—all clear—and sprinted for the trees. The ground was soft against my bare feet, but running through the woods was going to be tricky. I should have grabbed my boots, but with the gas, there hadn’t been time.

I disappeared into the shadows as a man and woman appeared around the side of the motel. They tipped their heads back, sniffing the air, and then their gazes locked onto my position.

Fucking werewolves.

I banged my shoulder against a tree, grimacing as the bark scraped my skin. Scooping up some dirt, I rubbed it on my bare arms as I darted into the trees. I had no idea if this would work, but it seemed like if I could mask my scent, I might be able to buy some time to shoot these bastards.

I slipped behind a large trunk and readied my gun.

The shifters paused beside the tree I’d rubbed against. The woman scanned the forest, searching for me.

That was all the delay I needed. I aimed and fired three rounds. Two of the bullets hit the woman square in the chest, and she dropped. Shock crossed the man’s face, and his ruddy eyes landed on me. He snarled and dashed forward.

I aimed for his head and pulled the trigger. My bullet sank into a tree trunk, and I cursed. The prick was weaving in and out of trees, and I couldn’t get a clear shot. Fear clawed at my heart, and I fought the urge to run.

Just breathe and aim, Savy.

The man rounded a bush and leapt toward me, and I fired twice. One bullet missed, but the other lodged in the bastard’s shoulder. He crashed into the ground and growled.

I fired a few more rounds as he scrambled to his feet, shifted, and fled into the darkness.

The echoes of my pistol faded, but I could hear bursts of gunfire from the front of the hotel. I checked my clip. Not many shots remained, but maybe I could help.

Suddenly, a branch snapped behind me. I spun to investigate, but something slammed into my chest, and I flew several feet before landing on my back with a crack. Pain flashed through me as I rolled onto my front and climbed to my knees. I tried to scream, but nothing came out.

Then a rope cinched around my throat. Terror filled me, and I clawed at my neck, trying to pry my fingers under the rope. But it was too tight. My trachea constricted, and dread settled over me as I was towed into the trees.

Just as I was about to black out, the rope loosened, and I gasped, gulping in air.

My vision cleared, and I blinked at the figure standing above me.

Terror paralyzed me as recognition dawned.

“You!” I choked.

Confusion ripped through me before something hit me square in the jaw and everything faded into darkness.