She remembered claws slashing at her, pain, jaws opening, saliva dripping in her face. As she’d done many times the last two days, she put her hand on her stomach, searching for scars. There was nothing. It stood to reason that if those wounds could heal, that if her feet got a little torn up from going barefoot, those wounds would heal, too. She looked at the ground, the dirt, and then her shoes. It was surprisingly easy to bend down and fasten them closed. Where she expected revulsion and crippling indecision, she found only a sense of urgency pouring from her beast.
Hurry.
Yes, she had to hurry. She took off her shoes. It wasn’t enough.
All.
With only a second’s indecision, she took off her camisole and pantaloons, standing naked as the sun poured down on her body. Again she waited for that sense of panic. She was naked in public. She should have been horrified. All she got was a sense of urgency.
Hurry.
Picking up her clothes, she wrapped them around her shoes, and just like before, she hurled them over the edge. From below came a howl. Isaiah? One of the three wolves hunting him? She didn’t know. Inside, the beast paced with impatience. Clearly feeling that she should know.
“Pardon me,” she muttered, her new claws nicking her thigh as she reached for her worry stone. “I’m new to this.”
The beast had no patience with her excuses. It wanted to go now, toward that howl. She wasn’t so sure that was a good idea. The beast didn’t care. The tingling in her toes intensified. The itch in her gums built to an ache. Her vision blurred. There was a surge of power in her mind, a blankness to her thoughts, a sensation of running freely downward, trees and rocks flying past, her mind focused with a peculiar intensity so similar to the focus she had trained herself to use with her worry stone. But there was a difference. The beast wasn’t thinking of calm. It was thinking . . . blood. Battle. Isaiah.
The beast was focused on Isaiah. Through the disorientation, Addy struggled for some comprehension. She was herself, yet not. She was running, but not like she was used to. Her mind was filled with scents and sounds, processing them at a speed she wasn’t used to. She struggled to see, but the wolf didn’t care about what it saw. It was, she realized, relying on scent and sound first. Most of all, she realized she wasn’t afraid. There was dirt on her hands and she wasn’t disgusted. She was naked and the knowledge wasn’t overwhelming. She had choices and she wasn’t panicked.
She was going into battle, with all the courage she’d always thought she had but could never tap into. It should terrify her, that much change in such a short amount of time. Instead, it was liberating. Here, in this moment, in the form she didn’t recognize, she’d found the person she had always struggled to be. Herself.
Where are we going? she asked the beast part of her, amazed at the agility of this form.
Isaiah.
That was all she got. Isaiah had been right. The beast was a little single-minded and primitive in its thought processes. Tracking their progress, she could tell from her mental map that they were heading toward the campsite. Where Isaiah was. Where the Reapers were. Her beast was powerful, her body strong, and two against one were better odds. She wasn’t the victim in this fight. She was going to be a part of it. As she got closer, she heard the sounds of battle. Four different growls, four different scents. The beast/wolf rumbled in her mind.
Isaiah.
Addy stilled the rumble before it became a growl. The element of surprise was not one she was willing to give up. There was a moment of resistance in which she wasn’t sure she could attain her goal, and then the wolf . . . agreed.
It was hope. Her intelligence combined with the beast’s power and drive and fearless dedication to fight. They might actually be able to do something. The beast put on a burst of speed. It seemed to fly along the trail, covering the distance ten times faster than she had. The growls ahead turned to snarls. As she got closer, she could hear teeth snapping, and dear God, maybe the sound of flesh rending? Her beast snarled. So did her human. They were hunting Isaiah, the man who gave everything for her and expected nothing back. She’d been his first love, his first lover, and he’d been hers. No one was taking that away from her without a fight. The beast agreed with a snap of teeth.
The trail turned. She didn’t follow it, but instead plunged into the trees straight ahead, following her nose and ears to the fight. Isaiah might have wanted her to run while he sacrificed himself for her, but he wasn’t alone anymore. And she didn’t want his sacrifice. They cleared the woods. Ahead she could see Isaiah fighting three Reapers. She knew him from the shade of his fur, the color of his eyes. His back was to the wall. The Reaper on his right had his back to her.
She focused on him. The most vulnerable. Silently, she whispered to the beast, Quiet. She needed surprise. Just a few seconds longer.
There was no hope of keeping her beast silent as it closed in and leapt. Muscles surging, adrenaline flowing, fangs bared, claws ready to rip the flesh. Primitive, feral, effective, it landed on the Reaper’s back, digging its claws in, holding on as it leaned forward. The human in Addy recoiled when her beast’s jaws locked in the base of the other Reaper’s neck. Horror and repulsion filled her as blood pooled in her mouth and the shocking crunch of bone reached her ears. But the human wasn’t in control. The wolf was, and the only thought going through her mind was, Isaiah.
The beast released the dead wolf and turned just in time to take the attack of the other. The ease with which it took her to the ground was disheartening. Its jaws closed over her throat. A thought thrust into her mind.
Surrender.
Her beast snarled its defiance. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Isaiah fighting with the other wolf. It was as big as him. His fur was covered in blood from multiple cuts and bites. The same blood colored the ground and scented the air.
His howl ripped through the air as the Reaper’s jaws tightened on her throat. Her beast flailed and fought, no thought of surrendering in her mind. In another second, the Reaper would crush her throat.
Beyond the beast’s mind, Addy crouched, assessing the situation with human intellect. The Reaper expected her to surrender or die. It thought in terms of all or nothing. The human side of her saw the gray area between.
Relax, she told her beast. Give him what he wants.
The refusal was immediate. Violent.
No. Isaiah.
Yes, Isaiah. We need to help him. The Reaper’s teeth tightened on her throat, puncturing the skin. The scent of her own blood joined the vicious mix filling the air.
Relax, then kill.
Her beast absorbed the image she sent. Then relaxed. The Reaper growled once more and then stood, releasing her. Too smug in its belief that she had been cowed.
Addy projected an image into the mind of her beast. An image of it grabbing the Reaper with its hind legs and sinking her claws into the Reaper’s side and shoulders. In that split second, the beast pulled the Reaper down, using that second of surprise and a human form of attack to draw his neck into range before, with lethal efficiency, ripping out the Reaper’s throat.
Blood poured over her face. The beast rejoiced. The human recoiled. But again it didn’t matter. When revulsion threatened to cripple her, the beast took over, following through, springing to its feet, ready to attack, only to find another Reaper in front of her, just as bloody, just as victorious.
Isaiah. He was a beautiful wolf, his brown fur tipped with gold and his eyes a steely gray. His scent was different, yet familiar. He was a giant wolf, but in the way his nose touched hers tenderly, followed by the force of his reprimanding bark, she found familiarity. Her beast looked around. The Reapers were dead, their bodies slowly reverting to human. The danger was over.
The woman became aware of the dirt and blood and gore covering her beast’s fur. The beast didn’t care. It only wanted Isaiah. It sidled up to Isaiah.
Addy did care. She couldn’t go to him with this. She turned and trotted back down the path, h
eaded for the pond. Isaiah followed silently. Her guardian. Her mate. Her beast rumbled its satisfaction. Addy fussed with her beast, not comfortable with the images coming out of the reality swamping her. Not comfortable with this form. This was her new reality, but it wasn’t her. Yet.
As soon as she got to the pond, she jumped in. The wolf didn’t see the need. Addy didn’t care. She wasn’t coming back to human form covered in gore and blood. She had enough to deal with. Isaiah joined her in the water, but stayed at a distance. He was right to be cautious. She was feeling unbalanced. She needed normal. Standing in the water, she focused.
My turn.
The beast was succinct.
No.
Closing her eyes, Addy pushed everything out except the scent of the woods and the water, and Isaiah. Rubbing her worry stone in her mind, she gathered her will and projected one thought.
Me.
There was a disorienting pain in her muscles, tingling in her gums, and an ache in her fingers and toes. She lost her balance and pitched forward, going underwater. She came up sputtering. A glance at her hands revealed neat pink fingernails. Once again she was Addy. With all of her weaknesses and vulnerabilities. But inside she was the beast. Ready and waiting. And the beast feared nothing. She shook the hair out of her eyes and stood, smiling. The beast was freedom.
“Now there’s the sign of a true Reaper. She comes out of a fight smiling.”
Blade. Addy dropped down in the water and covered her breasts. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Here and there.”
Something hit her side, knocking her back. The stench of blood and wet fur swamped her nostrils. “Isaiah.”
Teeth snapped at her in warning. If she hadn’t just come out of a battle, Addy would have been intimidated. She thunked him on the head.
“Addy!” Blade splashed into the water toward them.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she informed Isaiah’s beast before looking up at Blade, who was standing in the water staring at her like she’d just spun gold from air.
“What?”
Isaiah rumbled another warning and flashed those teeth at her again.
“Step away from him slowly,” Blade told her in a very careful tone of voice.
“Why?”
“He’s not himself.”
That was bull. Isaiah was always Isaiah. “Stop upsetting Blade, Isaiah.”
The beast turned and squared off in front of her.
“I can’t change to protect you,” Blade warned.
Who asked him to? “Then make yourself useful and throw me your shirt.” He hesitated. “Then turn your back,” she added for good measure.
“Hell.” Blade never took his eyes from Isaiah as he stripped off his shirt. His body was covered in bloody gashes.
“Here and there?” she asked as she caught the shirt. She dunked it in the water. Blood reddened the water. Whatever Blade had been doing, he’d been fighting. Isaiah’s beast grabbed the shirt in his teeth.
“Hey.” When she tugged, the beast growled.
“Let him have it,” Blade called.
“I am not going naked so a spoiled beast can have a tantrum,” she snapped. To Isaiah, she said, “Tell your beast to let go of the shirt.”
“He doesn’t have any control right now.” Blade waded two steps closer only to stop immediately at the beast’s warning growl. “It’s too soon after battle.”
She looked into Isaiah’s eyes. There was resolve but no insanity.
I want to kill Blade every time he gets near you.
“He has control.”
“You don’t understand—” Blade said, moving sideways to a better position.
“I understand perfectly.”
“You have no idea—”
Addy cut Blade off again, looking at the beast, staring into Isaiah’s eyes. “I understand everything.”
The beast feinted forward, terrifying in its size and its anger.
“Shit!” Blade lunged. “Get away.”
Instead, Addy took a step forward, ignoring Blade, her human terror, listening to her beast’s whisper of Isaiah. “He won’t hurt me.”
“What the hell makes you so sure?” Blade snapped.
Letting go of the shirt with one hand, keeping the other over her breasts, she reached out. “Because I’m all he’s thinking of right now.”
The beast lifted its lips in a menacing snarl.
“Addy . . .”
“Just like he’s all I’m thinking of.”
The snarl faltered.
“He’s unstable.”
She shook her head. “He hasn’t been, not for a long time.”
“Addy.”
“Shut up, Blade.”
The beast didn’t stop snarling and Addy didn’t stop reaching. If Isaiah was going to kill her, she wanted to know it now. She touched the beast’s snout, felt the reverberations of its violent nature in her fingertips.
Isaiah.
“Isaiah,” she echoed her beast’s whisper. “Come back to me.”
The beast went absolutely still. He could have been listening or preparing for the kill. She had only her beast’s conviction and her heart’s belief telling her which.
“I need you, Isaiah.”
Another snarl, this one deeper, louder. Even more menacing.
Shaking, scared, hoping, believing, holding the shirt and her ground, she whispered, “Please.”
There was a bunching of muscle. Closing her eyes, she braced herself for teeth tearing into her arm. Tension abruptly left the shirt. She stumbled backward. Wet, hard hands closed around her shoulders, stopping her fall. Familiar hands, followed by a familiar voice drawling, “You do like to dance with the devil, sweets.”
She opened her eyes. Isaiah stood before her, bloody, victorious, handsome. Hers.
“Isaiah.”
Isaiah.
“Who the hell else did you expect?”
From afar she heard Blade whisper, “Son of a bitch.”
She shook her head, relief taking the strength from her knees. She didn’t have to worry. Isaiah didn’t let her fall. “No one.”
Isaiah cocked a brow at her as she clutched his arms. “You going to put that shirt on?”
She licked her lips and nodded, holding tightly as the events of the last half hour rushed forward. Terror, horror, and shock replaced confidence. Had she really ripped out a man’s throat? Broken another’s spine? Had she really stood naked and become a . . . beast? From deep within, the shaking started.
“I’m sorry.” Isaiah’s grip became softer as he tugged her forward. And she went. Needing him.
“I changed, Isaiah.”
“I saw.”
She supposed he had.
She dug her nails into his arms, wrestling with the reality. “I did horrible things.”
“Necessary things,” he corrected.
“But horrible.” The shirt dropped into the water with a small splash. Drops of water flicked her side. The memories wouldn’t go away.
“Aw, sweets,” Isaiah murmured, drawing her in with a touch and voice so gentle neither could shatter the remnants of her composure. “Feeling like hiding?”
She nodded. “Until they make snowballs in hell.”
“That’s a long time.”
“It’s been a long day.”
“I suppose it has.” Another light tug on her arms. She shook her head. “Let me hold you.”
“No.”
“Why?”
She shook her head. The cold of the water matched the coldness in her soul. This was nothing like she’d planned. Out of control. It was all wrong.
“Why,” he repeated.
She licked her lips, staring at the wounds on his chest, and shook her head. “I don’t know.”
His finger under her chin forced her face up to his. “Then I guess this decision, I get to make.”
This time he didn’t allow her to resist the pull. All it took was two steps and she was in his arms. Two
steps and her cheek was against his chest. Two steps and she could hear his heartbeat, breathe his scent, feel his love. Two steps and she knew she’d guard the three with her life. Two steps was all it took to lose all regret.
His hand cupped her head; his lips brushed her hair. “Let me hold you, sweets.”
“Why?”
“Because you hurt.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to.”
“Why?”
His lips brushed her hair, her cheek, her mouth before he finally gave her what she needed. What they both needed. The truth. “Because I love you.”
Oh God, the impact of those words! The chaos of the day faded away. Addy opened her palm over his chest, over his heart. She didn’t know what her future held, but she knew this. “I love you, too.”
His hand fisted in her hair, holding her still for the descent of his mouth. He didn’t have to worry, she wasn’t going anywhere.
Isaiah, her beast sighed.
“Isaiah,” she whispered.
“I love the way you say my name,” he breathed into her mouth. “Like I’m some kind of dream you’re happy to wake up to.”
She caught his lower lip, ran her tongue over it, smiled when he shivered. “You are. My very own Prince Charming.”
He chuckled and kissed her softly, cherishingly. “Complete with fangs and claws.”
Tilting her head back, she gave him access to her neck, moaning as the spot on her shoulder burned hotter with each press of his lips along the taut cord. “I have some of my own.”
She felt his smile against her skin then heard it in his voice. “So I saw.”
She clutched his shoulders. “I killed a man.”
“He was trying to kill me, and would have killed you.”
Yes, he would have. And she had a right to defend herself.
“She loves you, you know.”
He didn’t pretend not to understand. “Mine’s pretty fond of you, too.”
She rubbed her fingers against his shoulder as she shared a truth of her own. “I like my beast.”
The kissing stopped. So did his breathing.
When Isaiah pulled back, his eyes were dark with concern, his expression serious. She cupped his cheek in her hand. “She’s part of me. The part I could never find when I was in captivity. The part I was afraid to grow when I was rebuilding my life. She’s capable of defending herself.”
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