Brothersong (Green Creek #4) - T.J. Klune Page 0,42
toward me, hips rolling. I swallowed thickly, feeling like prey in this small room. He stopped right in front of me, and if I turned my head just right, I’d be face-to-face with his—
He said, “You’re sweating.”
“At least your observational skills are still intact. Which is more than I could say for—”
He took another step forward. I spread my legs to keep him from bumping into them, and he moved between them. I could hear him breathing, could see the muscles in his stomach tightening, the sharp jut of the bones in his hips covered in shadows. “Found me.”
“Yeah.” My voice sounded like I had a mouthful of gravel.
“Chased me.”
“Yeah.”
“Look. Look at me.”
I was helpless not to. He grinned down at me, and it was a nasty thing full of sharp teeth. His eyes flashed violet, and I could see the wolf just underneath.
“This what you want?” he asked.
“I don’t…. That’s not….”
He bent slowly toward me. I leaned back on the bed, my hands flat against the thin mattress. I was cornered by an Omega wolf, but I couldn’t bring myself to shove him away. He invaded my space, not quite touching, but I could still feel the heat rolling off him. It was like he was on fire, burning from the inside out.
His smile widened. It looked crazed.
I dug my hands into the mattress.
“Take it,” he said. “Take it.”
“No.”
The smile disappeared. “Know nothing. Lost little boy. Think you’re so smart.”
This was a game to him. Intimidation. He was trying to force my hand. “Found you, didn’t I? No matter where you went, I still found you.”
“What now? Little boy.”
I didn’t have an answer.
“You won’t leave?”
I shook my head slowly.
“Then I will.”
“Go,” I said, jerking my head toward the door. “See how far you get. I don’t care if it takes days or weeks or months. Hell, it could take another fucking year, but it doesn’t matter. I found you once. I will find you again. You think Livingstone will keep me from—”
His hand covered my mouth, pressing harshly. His eyes glowed, his forehead furrowed as he bent his face toward mine. “Don’t,” he snapped at me. “Don’t say his name.”
I shoved him away. He hadn’t been expecting that. He stumbled back as I stood, letting the blanket fall to the bed. He pulled himself up to his full height, but fuck him. I was bigger than he was. Wider. Stronger. Maybe he had the feral strength of an Omega, but I was irritated and just about done with his bullshit. “Why?” I demanded. “Is he going to hear me? Is he out there in the woods? Can he hear me now?” I pushed by him and went for the door. I threw it open, letting it bang against the side of the house. The clouds were gathering again, the air sharply cold. “You out here, Livingstone?” I shouted. “Come on, you fucking asshole! Show your face! I’m right here! You want—mmmph!”
He wrapped his hand around my mouth and pulled me back into the house. He slammed the door again and leaned against it, chest heaving. His eyes were wide and wild, his hair hanging down around his face. “What are you doing?”
“I have no idea,” I muttered. “But you’re not going to scare me away. Neither will he. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”
“I don’t.”
“That makes two of—”
Something roared in the woods. It sounded very big and very angry.
The walls of the cabin shook.
Gavin closed his eyes. “You… don’t understand. Never. Never should have come here. Stupid boy. Stupid child.”
“I’m not a child.”
“Then why you act like one? Stay here. Don’t go into woods. Don’t follow me.”
And then he was out the door, pulling it shut behind him. I made it to the window in time to see him hit the ground on four paws, hurtling toward the tree line. The last I saw of him was his tail, and then he was gone.
leave us behind/slow drumbeat
He didn’t come back that night.
I waited, watching through the window as the shadows lengthened and snow started to fall, but he never came. Twice I went outside to get more firewood, listening to the sounds of the forest around me, but there was nothing.
I gave a brief thought that maybe he’d followed through with his threat and left, but it didn’t feel right. That off feeling about the woods was still as strong as ever, like it’d been infected with something rotten.