of you now? They would say your human mind’s turning rogue too.
But my self-disgust fades when I gaze down at her. She’s so beautiful, so exquisite. I need her.
Without another thought, I slam the trunk closed and slip silently into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life, and I pull onto the road. I drive for a good ten minutes before I hear her.
Between her kicks against the seats, muffled screams, and banging from side to side, I know she’s fully conscious.
Another twinge of regret fills me. My grip on the steering wheel tightens as nerves flutter in my stomach. You could stop, Collin. Pull over right here and let her out. You could walk away and pretend none of this happened.
Hatred for myself rises inside me, yet the inexplicable pull she has on me doesn’t lessen.
I really do need her, I try to reason with myself. Selfish fuck, I counter back.
I’m on the interstate now, heading out of the city as the full moon shines above. The moon calls to my beast, making him stronger.
My human emotions disappear when his teeth elongate. A quick glance in the rearview mirror reveals my distorted features—half wolf, half human as he fantasizes about what he wants to do to her.
No! I roar at him. She’s mine! This one’s mine! You can’t eat her!
But despite my efforts, hair sprouts on the backs of my hands as I drive toward the mountains in Utah. I grit my teeth and fight him. Thankfully, I don’t fully shift, but my human side knows that we couldn’t do this drive during the day given how hard I’m fighting him. My horrific half-beast appearance would be noticed by passerby. The authorities would be called. The SF would show up.
But in the middle of the night, with the moon calling to the beast and darkness covering the land, we’re practically alone.
A maniacal sound leaves my lips—half cackle, half howl and comes entirely from the beast. The banging in the trunk stops. I know she heard me.
A sob reaches my ears. Then another.
Another twinge of regret fills me, but I don’t stop, and a part of me is thankful for the beast. He never feels regret or shame, so I let him out more until he swallows up my misery like the rats he consumed last night.
A second howl leaves my lips. The beast urges me along, beckoning me to drive farther and go deeper into the mountains. I willingly succumb to his persuasions.
I know exactly where the beast and I are going. I visited it yesterday to make sure it was intact, and after stocking it with food and supplies that will last for several weeks, I returned to the city only to collect her.
And then I can keep the woman that I’ve taken for my own.
∞ ∞ ∞
By the time I pull onto the old logging road several hours later, Brianna’s grown completely quiet. The beast has retreated, bored of the long drive. He’s still restless for blood, but when it becomes apparent to him I’m not letting bloodshed happen, he goes to sleep.
I cock my head, listening. Nothing greets me except the night wind through my cracked window. Brianna’s incredibly silent, and if I couldn’t smell her, I would wonder if she’d escaped.
But even with the backseat separating us, her sunshine-and-caramel scent permeates the air, and I know she’s there.
It’s strangely comforting.
I shove my foot down on the accelerator, the engine protesting as I gun it up the old logging trail. Thick trees scatter my view since a dark forest lines the dirt road. The sedan protests, the ruts and bumps in the road scraping the bottom of the car at times, but it keeps going.
A new scent fills the air, wafting into the cab like ozone before a thunderstorm. It’s a scent I’ve become very familiar with.
Fear.
The sour smell oozes from Brianna like a dying fox ensnared in a hunter’s trap. Even though she’s quiet, she’s awake, and she must know from the rough road and slower speed that we’re approaching our destination.
That guilty feeling again steals my breath, but I ignore it.
When we finally reach the top of the desolate mountain, an old hunting cabin waits. It’s small and sags into the earth like a worn out barn. I only know of it from a run I did years ago in my wolf form. I’d still run with the Wyoming pack then, when I still had brothers to run with.