Pride's Pursuit

by Cat Kalen

  “It’s Pride,” he explains, his voice both soft and soothing as he settles his own emotions so he can concentrate on Nova. My heart lurches, remembering all the techniques this boy once used to relieve my worries and gain my trust. While he might be young, his intuition and inner strength never fail to amaze me. “You remember Pride, don’t you?” he asks.

  Nova’s jerky nod takes me by surprise. Her thick, death-black hair falls forward and masks her features as I study her harder, struggling to figure out who she is. I met so many of his family when I was here for that week that it’s hard to place everyone. Before the answer comes to me, Logan slowly climbs to his feet, and his voice gives way to soft persuasion as he coaxes her to follow him up.

  Her bones crack in protest as she stands, and I wonder how long she’s been crouched in that same position. Looking badly beaten and frightened to the point of tears her eyes rake over the motley crew with detached interest. But when her glance lands on me and lingers for longer than what’s comfortable, I get the strangest sense that she’s sizing me up.

  Unease moves into my stomach and my hackles bristle. The dark warning shivering through my blood has my animal growling. Logan curls a protective arm around the girl’s shoulders and pulls her against him to offer comfort. She melts into him and that’s when her identity hits me. She was he girl who’d always kept her distance with me but was always hovering in the background, watching with curious, almost worrisome eyes.

  “We can’t stay here,” Logan says quietly as he moves past my father and me to lead Nova outdoors. The hard lines on his face soften and there is real relief in his eyes when he lowers his voice and adds, “Nova said most of our family made it out alive. Some might even be at our den just over that peak.” He stops to jut his chin toward the eastern mountain. “She has more information but right now she’s in no shape to talk. She has to shade and heal herself first.”

  As I watch them step over the rubble and make their way through the crumbling house, I get the oddest feeling that something’s not quite right here. Heightening my senses, I listen to Nova’s blood pulse effortlessly through her veins. As I take in the smooth, unrestricted flow, I quickly conclude that the steady, rhythmic beat of her heart belies her stricken expression. Maybe she’s not quite as frightened as she seems.

  When Logan disappears around the corner with her packaged in his arms, I think about a shader’s self-preservation. While I understand that she’s been through a great amount of trauma, I also understand shading to heal is as inherent as breathing—so why hasn’t Nova done it already?

  What has her animal been waiting for?

  Chapter Two

  With my lungs starved for fresh mountain air, I follow my father outside. We step into a clearing, and as he makes his way toward the others I move past the smoke and catch a familiar scent in the night breeze. It’s that element of danger fluttering in the wind that warns me to proceed with caution.

  Stopping in my tracks, I breathe deep to pull the rich aroma of the forest into my lungs. I sort through nature’s smells and relief moves through me when I detect traces of rain inching in from the west, but when I get the eerie sense that someone is watching me it troubles my restless animal.

  I wrap my arms around myself and continue to scan my surroundings, looking for possible threats and unknown enemies.

  I narrow my eyes and through imaginary crosshairs I capture Logan leading Nova toward the towering trees fringing the village. With undisguised sympathy etched on his face, he keeps her close, protected, holding her battered body tight against his. From my distance I can’t hear what he’s saying to her, but from the way her pale eyes watch him intently to the way her body never once flinches, I can tell it’s something very important.

  I make a move to go toward them, but when warm, rough knuckles brush along the small of my back it stills my steps and anchors me in place.

  “You okay?” Stone asks, and I jump at the sound of his voice inside my head.

  “Yes,” I answer quickly, and throw up a wall of defense to hide my private thoughts from him. I don’t want him to worry about me any more than he already does. Besides, we have more troubling matters at hand. Like where are we going to find the monsters responsible for this deadly firestorm and what is it going to take for us to stop them from ever doing it again?

  Stone’s nostrils flare and he answers my unasked question, “I think they’re gone, Pride.”

  Understanding I can’t hide much from his piercing eyes, I give an uneasy nod, then, when I see my father talking to Gem and Sandy, I start toward him. With determined strides I quickly close the distance but when Gem looks at me my heart drops to my stomach.

  An apology lingers on my tongue. I want to tell her I’m sorry, that I plan to do whatever it takes to right this wrong, but I know she doesn’t want sympathy from me. And like Logan she’d never hold me accountable for the destruction.

  Regardless, I know I’m the one responsible, and I know I have to do something about it.

  “Logan mentioned a den,” I say, sounding more in control than I feel.

  Gem points to a distant peak, and I note how both fear and worry have dulled the shine in her eyes. “Up there.”

  I peer into the night, and wonder if any of her family actually made it there alive. Or could the PTF have tracked them up the mountain, to finish what they started? Since there is no sign of a fire, no smoke signals in the sky, I cling to the hope that they’re safe and alive.

  Somewhere in the near distance a nocturnal animal lets loose a wounded cry, and all heads turn in its direction. Looking spooked, Sandy glances around nervously, her dark cautious eyes searching the forest as she inches closer to me.

  I pull her against my body to offer comfort, and I feel a measure of hope that she’s going to be okay after all the trauma she’s been through. I’m grateful that she no longer hates me and that she now knows I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her and her unborn offspring safe.

  But thinking about her child has me wondering about the father, and where he might be now. It saddens me to think she was forced to mate with someone she didn’t care for, and I wonder what she’ll feel for an offspring that wasn’t created out of love. Will they bond or will the child simply be a reminder of the harsh life we were forced to endure?

  The master’s cruel smile flashes in my mind’s eye and my anger spikes. But then I remember the way I left him, in a face-off with two deadly strays out for blood. It’s that memory that gives me a sense of relief, because I know he can never hurt any of us again.

  A low whimpering sound escapes from Sandy’s throat. “Everything is going to be okay,” I say to soothe her while I run my hand up and down her arm to create warmth. Beneath the fear I see in her eyes, I catch a glimpse of an emotion I can’t quite identify, and it has my hackles spiking. A sad look pulls her mouth down, and I get the sense she wants to tell me something. I hug her tighter, and can feel her heart racing against her chest.

  “What is it?” I ask gently, and take another glance around to see what has her so spooked.

  Her eyes go so wide they look like they’re ready to pop from their sockets. “He could be here,” she whispers low, her shoulders slumping as her body closes in on itself, like she’s trying to make herself smaller, invisible, the way we used to do when we were little and the master was on a rampage.

  “Who could be here, Sandy?”

  “The master,” she says weakly. A cold shiver racks her body as she leans forward to let a curtain of wheat-colored hair hide her face. What is she ashamed of? That a cruel man managed to break her? Breed her with a powerful shader so he could harness her offspring?

  Or is it something else?

  Either way, it’s time to think about our future, not dwell on our past.

  “He’s gone,” I assure her, and tuck a long strand of hair behind her ear to expose her face. I look into her worried eyes. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  “What if—”

&nb
sp; “There are no what-ifs,” I say in a bid to calm her. “He died. No human, no matter how cruel and powerful he is, can come back from an attack like that.”

  A strangled, gargle sound catches in her throat, and when anxiety bursts from her pores and explodes in the air like a pack of fireworks, it has my animal howling, feeding off the intensity of her emotions. As I watch Sandy’s peculiar reactions it has me wondering what I said to cause such a powerful response in her.

  Sandy nibbles on her lips, like she wants to say more. But then stops herself and scrapes her front teeth over her mouth until her bottom lip is red and swollen. Practically bleeding.

  Gem, who has taken on the big sister role to Sandy, tips her chin and says, “We should go.”

  Modesty aside, Gem begins to unbutton her shirt and that’s when I notice Logan and Nova, both shrouded in darkness beneath a sheltering oak tree. The way Logan is caring for Nova, helping the young shader from her clothes, doesn’t go unnoticed by me. Nor does the ugly sting of jealousy zinging through my bloodstream.

  A low growl rumbles in the back of my throat, and I can’t deny that the sight of the two standing so close taunts me in primal ways. Blood lust rips through my veins, and my nails lengthen, but I diligently fight off the change, hating myself for allowing my animal to feel threatened in the first place. Logan is a protector, and he’s only doing what comes naturally to him.

  I briefly shut my eyes to gain control over my emotions, something I find harder and harder to do as I work to become less animal and more human. The sound of Stone moving in beside me pulls my focus and helps me to redirect my thoughts.

  I give a hard shake of my head to clear it, and I work to focus on the crisis at hand. “Are we traveling in animal form?” I ask Gem.

  “It’s easier to get up the mountain that way, and we have clothes and food stashed at the den.”

  I nod and stand back while they finish stripping their clothes from their bodies and shade. Once they’re all in their primal form, I gather their abandoned apparel and toss them into the fire for safe measures.

  When the clothes ignite, I tear my shirt and pants from my body and add them to the flames.

  Standing naked beneath the near full moon, the blaze lighting me from behind, I call on my animal. But as my skin thickens and my nails grow to talons, I don’t miss the powerful alpha standing in the shadows.

  Watching me.

  His talons rake the ground, tilling the dirt and soil beneath him as silver eyes move over my frame. I canter toward him and he makes a deep throaty noise.

  When I approach he nudges me, and I don’t misinterpret the intimacy in his actions. He growls low into the fire-ravaged night, then rubs up against me, interacting the way fated mates would. I look past his shoulder and swallow uneasily when I catch Logan studying us intently.

  The orange glow from the fire highlights the pewter in Logan’s eyes. His growl is deep and menacing, his gaze sliding over me darkly. He continues to pace by the tree line, and his movements are purposeful, showcasing his powerful, streamlined body as he waits for me to make the next move.

  I don’t miss the strain in his eyes, a reminder that he’s a pack alpha, a shader who carries a world’s worth of responsibilities on his shoulders. Even though he’s still a boy, he’s as loyal as a bloodhound to those he cares about. I sense his impatience with this whole mating situation, but I appreciate the fact that he is giving me the distance I need to find my way in this new world.

  My mind briefly flashes back to the compound, to when I took comfort in Stone’s arms during a moment of weakness. Guilt eats at me, my heart aching from my betrayal.

  I take a step toward Logan, but when Nova’s distressed howl cuts the silence, his whole body stiffens. A moment of hesitation passes over his eyes, then he gives one last glance my way before he darts up the mountain after the injured girl. I go after them, Stone keeping watch over me from behind.

  Swift on my feet, I advance on them, only to find Nova cantering happily alongside Logan. I cut her a curious glance but she doesn’t return it. Hurrying my strides I move past her and wonder if her distress howl was simply a delayed reaction to the massacre she’d witnessed.

  Or was there another purpose behind it?

  I go higher up the mountain, and soon enough the soil beneath my feet turns to snow. Twenty minutes later, after reaching the eastern tip of the hill, we all gather outside a small cabin. I draw the night air into my lungs and my bare feet leave tracks in the dense snow as I walk the perimeter and search for signs of life. When I find none, I circle back to the others, and that’s when I notice the worry dancing in Logan’s silver eyes.

  I nudge him. “Maybe they went farther,” I say and glance down the mountain to see flames licking the sky. “Maybe they didn’t think it was safe being this close.”

  “Maybe,” Logan says, and stops shading. As I look at him, another thought hits and I wonder why I haven’t considered it before.

  There must be other hidden communities around the globe. Other shaders who live normal lives and take to the woods on shift night. Logan’s pack can’t be the only one. I make a mental note to ask him about this theory when we’re alone.

  As Logan uses his shoulder to push open the door, everyone takes that opportunity to stop shading. When we do, the cool mountain air nips at our naked human flesh and Gem hurries us all inside before we get frostbite.

  She rifles through a small dresser and distributes clothes. I pull on a pair of oversize sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt with University of British Columbia emblazoned across the front. While everyone dresses, I use that time to catalogue my surroundings, looking for signs of danger in the cozy den designed for two, not seven.

  I take in the small kitchen, the meager furnishings, and the single window with its majestic view of the night sky. Nostrils flaring, I pull the clean scent of pine needles and the fragrant aroma of freshly laundered bedding deep into my lungs. My nose crinkles and I wonder what this place is used for, but when my glance lands on the soft bed, and the fluffy pillows tossed haphazardly about, I don’t need to ask to know.

  Years ago, when Jace and Clover—the elders I used to bunk with before they were brutally murdered because of my disobedience—thought I was asleep, I listened in on their private conversations. I remember overhearing them reminisce about what life was like life before capture. They talked about their customs and the special, isolated place two shaders would go for their first full-moon mating. After another quick scan of the den, I’m convinced I’m in such a place.

  My gaze instantly darts to Logan, my mind remembering the intimacies we shared in the cave the night the moon was full, when he saved me from myself. But that night was about so much more than Logan protecting nearby backpackers from my feral animal, and I’ll never forget what he asked of me that night, what I freely gave to him. Nor will I forget the implications in our actions and what it means to a pack.

  From across the small room our eyes meet and lock. Everything in the way he’s looking back at me, his eyes full of unchecked emotions, tells me he’s thinking about that night, too. I reach out to him telepathically, but when my call goes unanswered it simply reminds me that we were never destined to be mates.

  Nova steps in front of me, blocking my view of Logan. My gaze rakes over her tall, curvaceous body, now healed from shading, and I tilt my head to meet her gaze unflinchingly.

  Her lips peel back to expose white teeth but her smile holds no warmth. Pale blue eyes as cold as the dead of winter meet mine, and she opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, but her words never come.

  “Nova,” Logan says softly, and slips his hand around her slim waist, illustrating his protectiveness of those in his care. With that, she pinches her lips shut and turns adoring eyes on her pack’s alpha.

  Logan’s mouth tightens in genuine concern as he guides her to the sofa. He sits beside her and I don’t miss the possessive way she looks up at him. While I know he’s the alpha, respected
and admired by all, I can tell that he’s especially meaningful to her. I think back to the time that Logan told me his name means hollow, like a tree hollow or branch, one that provides a habitat for others. He’s a protector and I know he doesn’t take his role in the pack lightly.

  His voice is low, quiet when he asks, “Do you think you’re ready to talk?”

  When she nods, Stone and my father move to stand by the small kitchenette counter while Gem, Sandy, and I perch on the edge of the cushy mattress. With all eyes trained on Nova we sit quietly and listen as Logan asks the question I’m most anxious to hear.

  “Did Malcolm and the others find their way back here?”

  When she answers with no, her words ring hollowly in my head and I don’t know whether to feel worry or relief. The fact that Malcolm and his small army haven’t made it back means they weren’t part of the carnage. But it also means they are still out there somewhere, either caught by the PTF or running from ferocious strays.

  Either way, if there is a chance they’re still alive, I have to go back to help. And while I’m there, maybe I can convince the PTF that we’re not what they think we are, and that we can be productive members of society.

  When I think about confronting the PTF an uneasy shiver slithers through me, and in that instant Logan’s eyes briefly meet mine. He studies me carefully, as if he knows what I’m thinking, what I’m planning. His legs widen and he runs damp palms along his jeans before he turns the questions back to Nova.

  “There has been no sign of them at all?”

  “Nothing,” she says, her long black hair flaring around her pretty, sun-kissed face as she gives an adamant shake of her head.

  “Okay,” Logan says, and exhales a frustrated sigh before redirecting the conversation. “Did you get a good look at who did this?”

  She nods. “The PTF.”

  I watch his throat work as he swallows. “What happened?”