A Place to Run (Trials of the Blood Book 1)

by Becca Lynn Mathis

  “For tonight, the best that any of you can do is to get some rest. It may be the last chance for real, solid rest that we’ll get for a while.” He unwrapped the burrito I had handed him and took a bite, crumpling the wrapper in one hand.

  “We’ll take the other bedroom down here,” Chastity said, hugging Matt’s arm. Her vanilla scent was subdued and mixing pleasantly with Matt’s spice. He patted her hand and kissed her forehead.

  “Why dontcha take one o’the upstairs bedrooms, Lynn?” Kaylah said. “Daniel’n I will take the other one. Lord knows the rest of the boys can manage on couches. Let the ladies have proper beds, huh?” She touched my shoulder and smiled at me.

  Privacy for the new girl, huh? I mean, sure I had a room to myself at the other house, but I had also been recovering from a near-death experience. This was different. I had expected I’d end up on the couch in the basement or something.

  I returned her smile and looked at Jonathan and Jamie in turn. “As long as you guys don’t mind?”

  “Not at all!” Jamie smiled. I had thought before that his and Jonathan’s eyes were the same shade of green, but I could see them better now. His eyes were actually paler than Jonathan’s, but he still had the same golden-amber flecks.

  Jonathan smiled at me, mischief in his eyes, and then turned to his brother. “Dibs on the sectional upstairs!”

  “Take it.” Jamie waved a hand. “I’m gonna stay on one of the couches down here. It’s closer to the fridge and late-night snack opportunities.”

  I think Jamie got the better end of the deal.

  “Leave some for Ian,” Kaylah said. “I bet he stopped on th’ way hisself, but still. Pack.” She said the last word like it was all the explanation needed. I supposed it was, really.

  I finished the last of my food as Matt, Chastity, Kaylah, and Daniel all went to bed. Jonathan’s warmth still radiated against my left leg from where he sat by the couch. Jamie found some blankets in the linen closet in the hallway and brought them to the other couch downstairs. He then grabbed another couple of burgers from the kitchen and plopped one down next to the bag that held my discarded wrappers and chicken bone.

  I smiled at him as I unwrapped the burger. That I still had room for food amazed me.

  “Changing and running takes a lot out of us all,” Jamie said. “It’s why you’re eating so much so fast.”

  “This is still a lot of food for one person,” I said. I raised the hand holding the burger. “This is the second burger for me, and I’ve already had two burritos and a drumstick.”

  “I told you we eat a lot,” Jonathan said, smiling at me.

  I returned the smile and took another bite of my burger. I wasn’t sure what to say to him, and I couldn’t fathom why. I mean, sure we just slept together in the woods like two wild animals. But then we came back to this raging house fire and then I ran away and then tomorrow—or maybe the next day—we were apparently going to go vampire hunting. I scrunched my eyes closed.

  “What the hell kind of normal is this, anyway?”

  I hadn’t intended to say it, but it came out, exasperated, around a mouthful of burger.

  Jonathan placed a hand on my knee and rubbed it with his thumb. My racing thoughts slowed and I opened my eyes.

  “The only real kind of normal we can find,” Sheppard replied quietly. “I told you, hunting vampires is what we do. We get down time while we try to strategize how best to handle things in an area.” He stood from his chair. “But vampires kill people. We’re the only ones with the kind of strength it takes to stop them. So we do.” He walked into the kitchen, threw away his wrappers, and then paced down the hall, presumably to the master bedroom for the night.

  Watching him, I could see his age—the full weight of his years and the fight weighing on him. He needed the pack just as much as the pack needed him.

  The house fell quiet as I finished my burger. Jonathan stood as I crumpled the wrapper and picked up my bag of trash from the side table. I followed him into the kitchen, where he placed the bucket of leftover chicken in the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water. I deposited my wrappers in the garbage and took the bottle he offered me with a small smile. Leaving the kitchen, I went upstairs, Jonathan on my heels. At the top, he went to the left, where I assumed the den with the sectional was. I went to the right, passing the room where I could smell that Kaylah and Daniel had retired to.

  The other bedroom on the floor was all in grey, black, and chrome. It looked like something out of Modern Living magazine. It smelled musty from disuse, and had a clean, cold feel to it. There was a marble and chrome side table next to the bed, with a chrome and black lamp atop it. I put my water bottle and phone down next to lamp.

  It was already four-thirty in the morning, a time I pretty much only ever saw if I had a deadline article that the newspaper wanted me to have ready for the morning edition. I sat on the edge of the bed, which was piled high with grey and black pillows and covered with a soft, black comforter. After taking off my socks and shoes, I curled my toes into the soft, plush carpet and thought about earlier.

  Would it really be so bad to have Jonathan around for forever?

  A small voice, deep in the back of my mind, whispered Mine.

  I sighed. I wasn’t sure I was ready to even think about something like that. My history with guys hadn’t exactly been stellar, but it hadn’t been as bad as some girls had. None of my exes had ever cheated on me, and none had ever tried to hurt me. I just hadn’t been what any of them had really been looking for. Maybe I was too mousy, or too sarcastic, or too intellectual. But I guess none of them had been what I really wanted either.

  Another whisper, Mine.

  I shook my head. His smile was intoxicating, and all I wanted to do was touch him again. God knows I had never really found any peace or real belonging with anyone. But I just couldn’t wrap my mind around how so much upheaval could possibly bring me peace.

  Mine.

  And the pack. I ran a hand through my hair. God, the pack. Being here with them just felt so right. It felt like I had finally found where I was meant to be.

  I tugged my pants off and pulled the covers of the bed down. I put my shoes next to the grey upholstered chair in the corner, my pants on the seat, and crawled into the bed. The light flicked off in the hallway, and the house fell quiet.

  It was strange. Usually houses have some sort of ticking clock in some forgotten hallway or on a mantelpiece. This one didn’t. Instead, I could hear the wind rustling the trees outside.

  I stared into the darkness. Moving a foot, I marveled at how loud the sheets were, though they felt so soft to the touch. I wasn’t really tired.

  Actually. I was tired. But sleep was hiding somewhere in the house. I sighed. And I was pretty sure I knew where.

  The voice in my head was still quiet, but more insistent this time, Mine.

  I pulled the blanket and sheet back and kicked my leg over the side of the bed. As I stood, I balled up a section of the comforter and dragged it off the bed. I didn’t bother to put my pants back on as I padded from the room and down the hall to the left of the stairs.

  Jonathan didn’t move when I entered the den, but I was pretty sure he knew I was there. His heart thumped in his bare chest though his breathing was slow and steady.

  Maybe that was my heart thumping.

  I closed the distance to the sectional where he was laying and paused a moment laying down against him. He moved to give me more space and I threw the comforter over the two of us. His hand combed through my hair, his fingertips brushing my neck and then staying there. A growl quietly rumbled through his chest and against my back.

  He had found the pinprick scars that Sheppard had shown me. His growl told me he knew what they were. Well of course he did; the pack hunts vampires.

  I reached for his hand, tangled my fingers in his and gently pulled his hand to my lips. I placed a light kiss there and the rumbling stopped. He pulled his hand free and wound it around my wais
t, pulling me tightly against him.

  “Never again,” he whispered into my hair. I believed that too.

  FIFTEEN

  IAN POKED HIS HEAD into the den just as the night gave way to dawn to let me know that my place was closed up. I sleepily thanked him and drifted back into easy slumber against Jonathan’s warmth. A few hours later, I woke to Jonathan shifting and the pack moving around in the house. Though I probably could have slept for longer, I didn’t actually feel tired. I sat up and looked at the scars on his chest, visually tracing up to the dark goatee and meeting the gold-flecked green eyes studying me.

  “Mornin’,” Jonathan said.

  I smiled. “Morning.”

  There was that voice in my head again. It whispered, Mine.

  I yawned and stretched my shoulders. Jonathan propped his head on his elbow. His eyes scanned the room and took in my legs. “Where’d you leave your pants?”

  “In the other room up here,” I replied, waving my hand in the direction of the grey and black room. I jutted my chin toward his chest. “Where’d you leave your shirt?”

  He fished a piece of cloth out of the cushions behind his elbow. “Right here.” He plopped it onto the couch next to me. “Would it make you more comfortable if I put it on?”

  I pulled my hand into my lap. I had been tracking the scars along his torso, watching how they moved over his stomach muscles as he breathed—and apparently reaching for them. I guess I wanted to run my fingertips along them more than I thought I did. Dammit.

  Mine.

  He sat up quickly then, startling me. But it was the movement of those abs of his that was making it hard to breathe. He gently touched my hand, then brushed his hand up my arm, to my shoulder. When he hit the sleeve of my shirt, he brought his hand to the side of my face, pushing his fingers into my hair. I leaned into his touch and closed my eyes. Electricity crept into his woodsy scent, and I was again reminded of a forest after a thunderstorm. His lips brushed mine, gently, tentatively.

  I leaned into the kiss and turned toward him, bringing my hand up to touch his cheek and hair.

  Mine.

  I wanted him then, and my mouth against his became more urgent. I repositioned myself, straddling him on the couch as his hands, sure and strong, slipped under my shirt to grip my waist and hold me to him. I could feel him under me, his warm hardness straining against his jeans.

  “I take it that’s a ‘no’ then?” He said, mischief in his tone.

  “Hmm?” I pulled back, skeptical of his tone. What game was this?

  “The shirt,” he said. “I take it you don’t need me to put it on to make you more comfortable?”

  I snorted. “Only if me putting on pants will make you more comfortable.”

  He laughed, a rich sound that made my heart dance, but his expression was impish. “It might make my own pants fit a little better.”

  “Well if it’s your pants that are the problem,” I replied, “maybe we need to remove them.” I slid my hands to the waistband of his jeans, moving toward the button and zipper. My heart kicked like a bass drum in my chest.

  He clasped my hands in his, interrupting me, as a chuckle rumbled from his chest. “You are truly a treat, dear Dreamer,” he said, his voice husky and soft. He brought my hands to his lips and kissed my fingers. “But maybe we should slow down a bit.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “Slow down?”

  “Well,” Jonathan said, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t want this.” He released my hands and clasped my hips, his hands warm. “Because I definitely do.” His grip tightened, and his eyes rolled into his head for a moment before returning to mine.

  I sat still. What was he getting at? Did this have something to do with how Sheppard and Kaylah wanted him to give me space until the full moon?

  “But you only just had your first change. And what we did in the woods last night was wonderful.” His hands released my hips and dropped to the couch.

  Oh god. I had just thrown myself at him, hadn’t I? That kind of stuff made me look like the needy, desperate type. Dammit.

  “But there was a lot that happened last night. Maybe, as things settle, you’ll come around to a place in here,” he tapped my forehead, “where you don’t want any of this.”

  Unlikely. The pull I felt toward him? I hadn’t felt that with anyone else. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that I had never been with anyone that was a werewolf—as far as I knew, at least. Maybe it had something to do with him being a werewolf.

  Maybe that was his point.

  But the gentle way his fingertips traced my cheek to my chin, was a sweetness I wasn’t sure I ever wanted out of my life.

  Dammit. I’ve got it bad for him.

  He closed his eyes and sighed, his head falling against the back of the couch as his hand fell to his lap. Which I guess was my lap, really.

  I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth and studied the lines of his throat. He had a point, though. Our time alone in the woods last night was...well, it just kind of happened. And it was a lot of fun. And I had definitely wanted it then, just as I definitely wanted it now. But was it only fun?

  No, the voice in my head whispered, mine.

  I scrunched my eyes closed and wiped at my face with both hands. Probably not. I sighed to keep myself from growling as my mind circled back around itself.

  So I changed the subject completely. “Do you only call me that because of that dream I told you about?”

  He made a face and looked at me again, his eyes searching my own. “Dreamer?”

  I nodded.

  “You don’t like it?”

  “I do like it,” I replied. “I’ve just never had a nickname before.”

  His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper and his brow wrinkled. “Isn’t Lynn your nickname?”

  I made a face. “No, it—” My confusion made me sit up. “Didn’t Sheppard tell you my full name?”

  His eyes continued searching my face. “When Sheppard found out you were in his territory, he learned what he could and told the pack about you. But he just told us your name was Grace.” He paused for a moment. “I think Matt knew more, but he was the one looking out for you.”

  “So, let me get this straight. You all know my real name, but have been calling me Lynn anyway?”

  Jonathan shrugged. “Sure. What do we care what you want to be called? Sheppard named you pack, so if you wanted to be called Twinkle Toes, we’d have just gone with it. It wouldn’t change anything.”

  I laughed. “Twinkle Toes.” I shook my head and sighed, looking at him again. “Lynn’s my middle name. And I suppose, knowing that, it doesn’t really matter then if you choose to call me Grace or Lynn or Dreamer.”

  His grip returned to my waist and he shook me a little, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But which would you prefer?”

  I thought a moment. “Well, you might as well all stick to Lynn. But you.” I leaned into him, my lips brushing against his as I whispered, “You can still call me Dreamer if you want.” I felt his lips curl into a smile as I closed my mouth on his again. His hands spread up my back as my hands tangled in his long brown hair.

  The smells of breakfast wafted upstairs: bacon was quickly joined by potatoes and eggs. My stomach growled at the scents and I was pretty sure I heard his do the same.

  What if he was right, though? What if, when the dust settled, this was all just base urges? What if I only wanted him because he made me feel like I finally belonged somewhere? Well, so what? What if I did only want him because he made me feel like I finally belonged somewhere?

  Mine, insisted that voice in my head.

  “Maybe we should go and get breakfast while it’s hot,” I murmured against his mouth before pulling away to look at him. The gold flecks in his eyes were more pronounced, and there was a heat in his expression that I hadn’t noticed.

  “Good idea.” He nodded. His heart thumped in his chest, its rhythm matching my ow
n. “We have time. Let’s not rush into something just because all our instincts are telling us to.”

  God bless him for being so damn rational.

  “We have time,” I echoed, resting my forehead against his. I closed my eyes and took in his electric woodsy-ness, the warmth of his hands against my skin, the hardness in his lap pressing against me.

  Mine.

  Maybe. Not yet. But maybe. We had time.

  But our mouths found each other again. We stayed that way for a long moment, my arm wound around his shoulder and my other hand tangled in his hair. His hands were strong against my back as they pressed me to him.

  With a quiet growl in his throat, he wrapped an arm around my waist, the other under my thigh and stood, placing me gently on my feet in front of him.

  I let out a quiet whimper at the break in contact.

  He smiled and placed another kiss on my forehead. “Now, now, Miss Cartwright. No whining.” He lightly tapped my nose with his pointer finger and wrapped the comforter around me. “You go back to your room now, and put your pants back on. Then come and join me for breakfast.” He winked. “I’ll save you a seat. Besides,” his voice dropped to a throaty, husky tone. “I want to be sure to take my time with you.”

  There was a promise in his words that sent another wave of heat through me.

  God, did I ever have it bad for him.

  I pouted at him, holding the blanket to me so the weight of it didn’t fall off me. “What good are these instincts then, if we can’t follow them?”

  “You’re not wrong,” he replied darkly, “but we have time.”

  “I’ll hold you to it, you know,” I said, stealing another kiss from him.

  His eyes glittered and a corner of his mouth quirked up. “I should hope you would.”

  I shuffled down the hall to my room and tossed the comforter on the bed before grabbing my pants from the chair. I pulled them on and shoved my phone in the back pocket, ignoring the notification light blinking from its corner.