by M. L. Briers
He could feel his wolf pushing for that, pushing to take control, and as he tossed his leg over the bike and settled his backside against the leather, he closed his eyes and debated which road to take…
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CHAPTER TWO
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Isobel hated mountain roads at night. With no street lighting to guide the way ahead, nothing in the way of traffic in front to be able to follow another car’s taillights, and the imminent danger of ending up over the edge of the unguarded, unmarked tarmac, either in a ditch or worse, freefalling down the damn side to a painful end – she was a nervous driver at best.
What she hated more was when the stupid navigation system went on the blink. Of course, right then and there, stuck on a road in the middle of nowhere with no need to turn, it wasn’t as if she needed it, but the constant display turning this way and that, trying to send her off the edge of the mountain, telling her that the road she was so obviously on didn’t exist, and demanding that she turn around at her earliest convenience wasn’t helping her concentrate on the important matter of staying alive.
‘In three hundred meters – turn around.’
“Oh, shut up, shut up! Turn around… where exactly?” She hissed at the polite toned voice that had been driving her insane since she started the climb up the damn mountain.
‘In two hundred and fifty meters – turn around.’
“Yes, yes, yes, and I’m the Queen of bloody England, get over yourself. Turn around on a road that barely fits two damn cars across with a mountain drop one side and heaven knows what on the other. If you had a brain you’d still be stupid.”
Her hands fisted the steering wheel even tighter as annoyance mixed with fear, and rolled into the possibility of hysterics for her present situation. She knew that she’d been stupid to keep driving.
There had been a place where she could have pulled over for the night, got a room, had a bath, eased the tension within her shoulders that now felt as if they were propping up her ears, for the next part of her trip to nowhere, but she’d taken the risk to go up one side of the stupid mountain and down the other to a bar and guest house that she’d heard about… now she loathed that decision.
‘In two hundred meters – turn left.’
“Left? I thought you said turn around?” She hissed at the screen and the directional arrow that told her that she wasn’t even on the road anymore.
“Turn left it says, turn around it says. Kiss my backside and call me Minnie Bloody Mouse, I say.” She hissed and puffed out a breath, making the loose hair hanging down her face tickle her nose, and she reached up and scrubbed at the skin.
“Well, why don’t I just sprout bloody wings and fly?” She eyed the arrow on the display, it pretty much told her that was what she was doing. “Technology, such a wonderful thing. I should have just used a broomstick, no, better yet, got my bloody hoover out and took that for a ride.” She reached out and flicked the screen, not hopeful that it would sort itself out, but it made her feel as if she had some control over putting things right.
“In one hundred and eighty meters – turn right.’
“Are you kidding me?” She practically growled at the screen. Giving the thing a thump and causing the suction pads to detach from the windscreen and the whole thing to fall against the dashboard as it tried to escape her wrath.
“Oh no you don’t…” She hissed out, trying to catch it, and taking her eyes from the roadway for a moment as it slipped out of her reach and hit the floor beside her foot.
‘In one hundred and fifty meters-’
“I hate you. I hate you…!” She hissed, reaching down for it and trying to still see over the steering wheel as she bent. “I’m going to kill you when I get my damn hands on you!”
‘Turn around.’ That polite voice riled over her last nerve… but it was the sound of a roar of an engine close by that made her shoot up in her seat, eyes a blaze as the one headlight blinded her in the darkness, and she squealed like a stuck pig as she realised that she was on the wrong side of the road and that motorbike was coming right at her…
Isobel panicked, yanked the steering wheel and squealed again as the bike moved too, still right in front of her and speeding towards her fast, and she yanked the wheel back the other way and felt her rear end loose traction…
The back of her car tried desperately to spin around and meet the front of her car. Her eyes noted the path of the motorbike as it shot on by, it’s back tyre skidding around to hit the back bumper of her car, and as her car turned one hundred and eighty degrees and pointed the other way – she saw the rider leave the bike behind and sail through the air as her hands tightened on the wheel.
Isobel he held her breath as her car kept spinning and she lost sight of everything in the darkness…
Please don’t let us die, me and the bike, anything you want, just no death here tonight…
Isobel knew the moment that her back wheels left the road. The shift from tarmac to uneven rough terrain sent the car pitching sideways, and she screamed out, thinking that car was about to flip, but by the grace of the ancestors, it hit something hard and came to a dead stop…
‘In one Hundred and…’
Isobel lifted her foot and slammed it down onto the screen in a fit of rage. The sound of destruction didn’t make her feel any better, but it didn’t make her feel any worse either.
“I killed someone…” she whispered on a rush of pure guilt that made her body work even thought it was wound up tighter than a duck’s backside.
She made her hands un-grip the wheel, made herself turn in the seat, pop the door locks open, and tried to step out into the night, unsure what held her back as she fought blindly to get out of her seat.
“Let go – let go…!” she growled at the seat belt as it held her trapped inside the car.
Isobel had a deep seated need to find the rider. Fear, panic, anger, and good old fashioned guilt washed through her in waves as she fought the thick material to be set free.
With a burst of magic from within, the seat belt released and she almost face planted the ground, only her hands against the frosty earth saved her from her fate… Then she stumbled upwards, using the open door to aid her, and on shaking, jelly like legs, she stumbled around the car in search of the roadway and the rider.
“Please don’t die… please don’t die…” Isobel’s muttered muted words fell from her lips over and over as she tripped and stumbled back to the tarmac.
“Where are you?” She tried to breathe against the heaviness in her chest. Her eyes scanning the darkness – this way and that – back and forth in the disorientating landscape of night.
“Where are you?!” She screamed out as loudly as she could, and heard the sound of a deep groan of to her left.
Not over the side of the mountain then and still alive… thank you sisters…
“Still alive… still alive…” she muttered over and over as she pushed forward. Her legs barely able to keep her upright as they shook like a marathon runner on the last mile home.
Another deep groan and a thud of something metal kept her going, drew her on into the darkness. She kept her magic fizzing and buzzing at the surface in case she needed it, she could heal if there was time…
“Where…?”
With a roar like a wounded beast the dark shadow pushed up from the ground in front of her and a panted breath caught in her throat… The long, hard, deep growl sent a chill right into her bones as she pulled up short… her eyes wide like a doe caught in the headlights of a car, and her heart racing inside of her chest to the point where she didn’t think it could beat any faster…
“Woman!” He growled. He took one thudding step towards her as she tried to make her legs go backwards, but failed miserably. “I’m going to kill you.”
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CHAPTER THREE
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Isobel stumbled backwards and her backside hit the floor. She didn’t much feel the pain of it, she didn’t much feel anything, bec
ause a heartbeat later and the lights went out.
“What the…?” Dexter growled as his top lip curled in anger.
He’d wanted to have his say, alright. Now the stupid female was lying in the roadway, and he supposed he’d have to help her before some truck came over the mountain and squished her into the tarmac.
Dexter could scent his own blood and not much else. His nose had taken a beating and it felt broken.
He could taste the wet iron on his lips as he swiped his tongue, then reached up and wiped his blood against the back of his hand. It didn’t help much, the blood kept flowing.
His left leg hurt like hell, but he knew that it wasn’t broken, just busted up, and his Lycan blood would heal it, along with any other injuries that he’d sustained from her Kamikaze driving… He’d like to wring her damn neck at the thought of his motorbike lying dead across the way.
He grumbled, growled, and grunted his way to the roadway. Limping and cursing as he got closer to her.
Dexter’s wolf clawed at him to get out. It wanted the taste of revenge on its fangs. He did too.
“Damn it.” Dexter growled at the sight of her lying there – so damn helpless that she could have been a pup…
“Ah, crap in hell!” He growled once more, reaching into his back pocket for his mobile phone…
He’d call a damn ambulance for her. Call a tow for his bike and the hunk of junk her car had probably become. His eyes locked onto the sight of the smashed screen and he grumbled and growled some more…
“Of all the damn…” he tossed his head back and roared in rage. Then he tossed his phone into the wilds and stomped towards her…
“Stupid damn woman should never have been allowed to drive stupid damn cars…” He grumbled and grunted. “What’d they expect? Probably touching up her damn makeup or fluffing her hair…” He lowered his aching body down to one knee and eyed her as a rush of something went over his skin…
Dexter swiped at his nose again with the back of his hand, clearing the blood so he could scent something other than that. His eyes narrowed on her… he leaned in and took her scent…
His blood, the icy chill of the mountain breeze, and just the essence of… Fae. He wrenched his upper body back and growled long and hard.
“A witch!” He shook his head. “Might of damn well known it…” he growled. “Probably counting toads and plotting someone’s damn demise.”
He braced his hand on his good knee and went to push up again. He had a mind to leave her there… well, maybe drag her to the edge of the roadway so she didn’t get squished…
“Ah, damn it.” He growled and cursed.
In that moment he wished that he was a damn rogue – that he had no conscience and could walk away from the stupid witch…
“Oh, fine…” He growled out. Reaching out for her with his large hands and gently scooping her towards him. He’d take her to the pack, get the vampire to heal her, easier than calling a damn ambulance and having strangers on pack land…
Dexter brought her into the safety of his strong arms, supporting her neck with his shoulder and allowing her head to gently roll towards him. Then he pushed up with his bum leg and took a look around him, getting his bearings.
He knew this land frontwards, sideways, and backwards, and he set off across the rough terrain for home.
“When you’re fixed, female, you and me, oh, we’re gonna have words.” He growled out, feeling strangely protective of her as his beast growled within him.
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“Find him…” Isobel muttered. Her warm breath leaving her body in little clouds as Dexter looked down upon her in his arms.
His damn leg wasn’t healing as well as it should and he had to wonder if he had something lodged in there keeping the wound open and not allowing his body to heal. The rest of him wasn’t doing too badly, but he needed to get whatever was ailing the healing process out of his limb sooner rather than later.
With that in mind he’d set off for one of the hunting cabins that had been closest to where he’d come off of his bike. With any luck he’d find one of his pack held up in there that had a damn phone of them at least, otherwise he should be able to patch his leg up and set off again in no time, letting his blood do the work as he carried her towards Justice’s place.
The sooner he got rid of her the better. He told himself. The woman gave him a strange feeling within the pit of his stomach, and made his wolf antsy at having her around.
He’d never been fond of witches. Now there appeared to be some in his pack… he had to wonder what the world was coming too.
Dexter skirted the frozen waters of the pond. The waterfall hung like an ice sculpture reaching down for the ultimate destination that it never quite reached.
Winters were harsh on the mountain and he remembered it well. He loved the snow and his beast did too. But spring… hell, he loved the spring when everything started to come back to life, but he’d be gone before the thaw truly set in.
Dexter kicked the door to the cabin open and the rush of musty air from inside told him that nobody had been there for a while. He would have preferred to go up a little to the old winter fishing cabin where there might have been more supplies and someone inside, but he decided to get this over with now.
The sooner that he was free of her the better, before he did something stupid – like wrung her delicate neck for running his bike off the road. A bike that he loved like a pup that he would never have.
His nose had almost healed, but he hadn’t the chance to wipe the blood from around it with her in his arms. He didn’t mind the scent of blood, but preferred it not to be his own.
Placing her down on the bed, he had the sudden urge to crawl on top of the mattress next to her and keep her warm with his body heat… He grunted at that thought, scowling down at her as he wrenched his body upright and turned on his heels…
“I’m not going soft in my old, damn, age.” He growled to himself.
Limping over to the half-baked kitchenette and finding a towel on the side. He ran the water and cleaned his face, getting rid of the scent of his own blood as he grumbled and growled, searching with his other hand for a knife or something to dig whatever was ailing him from his leg…
The blade of the paring knife glinted in the moon’s rays that fell in the cabin from outside the window, and he grinned. Limping off to find somewhere to sit to go about his work, he shot her a quick look, still in lala land.
“Find…” Isobel stirred, gave a small mew, and slumbered once more as his eyes took her in and his wolf rallied once more inside of him.
“I’m damn well here and I have a mind to eat you…” he grumbled, wondering if she was talking about finding him.
He’d heard her calling to him while he was lying on his back looking up at the stars with pain shooting through him and an urge to kill the idiot that had been driving at him on his side of the road… that idiot was her…
He parked his backside down on the edge of the sofa with a grunt and the unhappy task of having to dig at his own flesh…
“Damn it to hell, women drivers, witch drivers…” he growled, ripping the bloodied material of his jeans at the sight of the wound and grumbling some more. “My favourite damn jeans…” his eyes took in the damage to his leg and he prodded it with his finger…
“Damn it to hell…” he growled at the pain that shot through his leg. Bit down on his urge to kill the witch, and started digging at the flesh with the tip of the blade… he could feel it alright, lodged in there, and he wasn’t about to heal until it was out.
“Ah, crap…” he grunted, tossing the knife away and flicking out the razor sharp claws on one large hand. Then he dug in again, cursing and growling at the pain as he found what he was looking for and dragged it back out…
As soon as his claw left his flesh; he felt almost instant relief at the feel of his body going to work to heal his pain…
Then the blood curdling scream t
hat rattled the windows, rattled his mind, and made his ears scream with pain, made him jump with surprise as his backside slipped over the edge of the sofa and he found himself on his back on the cushions with his legs flaying in the air…
“This is not damn well happening to me…” he growled out as he fought to get upright once more.
The sound of feet on floorboards as the witch made a beeline for the door sent his mind spinning and his beast growling with the need to stop her…
“Oh, hell you don’t…” He pushed up and away. Heading towards her as fast as his injured leg would take him…
“Don’t you damn well run-” He growled out, but a heartbeat later and he was flying backwards through the air. His arms and legs were flaying, and he had half a mind on where he was going to land, and half on the pain of it, as his eyes took in the sight of her heading out of the door…
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Isobel had woken up in a strange place with an even stranger wolf man with his claws down digging into his own flesh. Her witchy sense told her what he was, and her brain told her to run like hell to get out of there…
Now she was running, possibly for her life as the sound of his heavy thumping feet came from behind her… She tossed a look back over her shoulder – something that she’d always sneered at idiot women in horror films for doing, and yes, she regretted it the moment that she did.
There he was, closing fast. He looked like a wild one, dark and murderous as he chased after her. So damn big that he looked like the monster she knew him to be…
She’d hit him with her car, almost taken his life, and she guessed he’d brought her to the middle of nowhere for some kind of justice. She shrieked as her feet left solid ground and she slide downwards… her backside slammed into hard earth and her feet slide on the ice of the frozen waters…
