by Terry Spear
“But…” Calla wanted to tell him that he was behaving just like Ivy. But she realized then why Ivy hadn’t had him thrown out of her ball. Ivy had wanted him there. Maybe she had hoped that Calla and Baird would get into a fight, so she could move in and entice Baird to be interested in her again.
“Why did you come to the masquerade ball, then?”
“Ivy called and said you’d arrived. I didn’t come to see her. She knew that but was hoping she and I could get back together. It would never have happened.”
The car slid again, and he didn’t slow down even a wee bit. Calla’s heart nearly gave out as she buckled her seat belt and grabbed the door handle. If the car went over the cliff, would she be better off as a wolf or a human? Seat belted as a human seemed like the best bet, though neither option was exactly ideal.
As soon as she had that thought, the car hit ice and spun around, her heart and stomach spinning with it. They were going too fast, tires vibrating so violently that she felt as though they would shake loose from the rims.
Then suddenly they were going straight down the side of the cliff. Her heart was in her throat. Instead of the road in their path, she saw trees and rocks. Jagged rocks scraped the underbelly of the car raw, the metal screeching and grinding, tree limbs snapping.
For some inane reason, she hated that he was destroying the trees. Forget about what would happen when the car crashed at the bottom of the cliff and resulted in the destruction to their bodies.
Branches tore at the doors, scarring the paint job. The rocks shredded the tires, and they boomed as the air whooshed out of them. Both the windshield and the back window wore spiderweb cracks all across their width, the wipers still sweeping across the windshield, clearing the sleet away only to be covered in the slippery stuff again. The car slammed to a stop, and a jarring jolt crashed through every bone in her body.
It wasn’t over. They were hanging precariously midway down the cliff, hung up on rocks and trees, the only things that kept them from falling any farther. Baird wasn’t moving, his head slumped over the steering wheel.
“Baird,” Calla cried out, torn between wanting to leave the car without him and wanting to ensure he wasn’t going to try anything further to injure her. Her clothes were damp from the run in the sleeting rain, and her head was still pounding furiously.
She leaned forward a little to try to reach him, but the car shuddered, and she realized then how precarious their situation still was.
“Baird,” she said again. She wanted to open the door and jump out and take her chances, but she was afraid any move she made would shake the car loose and send it plummeting to the bottom of the cliff. She saw then that a tree trunk was jammed against her door.
Baird slowly raised his head and groaned. He glanced up at the mirror as if he suddenly remembered her in the backseat, then glanced at the door. She realized before he even swung open his door what he intended to do.
“Nay, Baird, don’t! We can’t move. The car isn’t stable enough, and any slight movement could send us down to the rocks below,” she said.
“Says you,” he said.
Her heart was hammering so hard that she was sure it would break through her ribs any second.
She’d have to climb across the seat to the other passenger door or attempt to maneuver over the driver’s seat to exit through Baird’s door, if he managed to get out. Baird pushed his door open partway, and the car shuddered and slipped and caught, a rock keeping the door from swinging very far and the narrow gap making it difficult for him to squeeze out. He wasn’t wearing a seat belt, but the car was at an odd angle and he was having a time climbing out. She remembered what Cearnach’s car had looked like after Baird’s kin had sent it flying over the cliff. It had turned into a squashed metal can. If she lay on the floor, would she fare better?
The car moved again.
“Bloody hell,” Baird swore as he struggled some more, then managed to fling himself out of the car.
The vehicle slid another five feet or so, and her heart went with it. It ground to another precarious stop.
From the rear window, she could see Baird clinging to a tree, not out of danger yet himself. Then he pulled out his cell phone, moving around to lean his back against the tree to brace himself. “I’m where Cearnach’s car went off the cliff. I need to get picked up on the road south of here. I’m okay, but the car is probably not going to make it.” He glanced back in Calla’s direction.
“I can’t get her out of the car. I don’t know what we’re going to do. I guess we’ll tell the pack I had an accident. Which I did. Tell them that Calla was coming with me and didn’t make it. There’s not much else I can do.” He smiled at Calla, the look pure evil. “Nay. I can’t get her out without risking my own neck.” He listened for a second and said, “Pick me up, Vardon. We’re still in this together.” He slammed his cell in his pocket and began stripping off his clothes.
She got the impression Vardon didn’t like the circumstances any more than she did.
Baird hadn’t even tried to get her out! Did he think the pack would buy his story? And let him get by with it? She hoped that if she didn’t make it, they would deal with him the way she wanted to right this instant.
Ignoring him and concentrating on what she had to do to save herself, she wondered—could she climb the cliff face better as a wolf? Could he? He must have thought so or he wouldn’t be getting ready to shift.
She was afraid to unfasten her seat belt in case the car started moving again. Then she’d be in more danger, thrown through a car window or stuck in the car as it plummeted down the cliff, or no telling what. She heard the sound of tires screeching up above and her heart nearly died. If it was Guthrie and his family coming to rescue her, or really anyone, they could end up sliding off the cliff like Baird, slam their car into Baird’s, and send her crashing to the bottom. Their vehicle would land right on top of Baird’s car…and her.
Then she saw that Baird had shifted and was trying to make his way down the cliff as a wolf. She realized he had to, or face the wrath of Guthrie’s family, if that’s who was up above on the road. Baird was getting away.
She listened for the sound of anything up above.
Silence.
Then the slamming of doors from farther down the road. Running boots pounded on pavement, nearing the location where Baird’s car had sailed over the edge. Three men, it sounded like. Good thing she hadn’t shifted, in the event that whoever was coming wasn’t Guthrie and his kin. Someone else might try to rescue her if she was a woman, but not as a wolf.
Rocks rolled down from above. Gooseflesh erupted all over her skin as the rocks bumped the flattened tires.
“Calla!”
“Guthrie.” She barely whispered his name. “I’m okay!” she shouted. She wasn’t really okay, but she wasn’t exactly injured—except for the new bruise on her temple—and she had to let him know that. But then she was scared for him. What if he slid to his death on the cliffs?
“Don’t move!” he shouted back.
“The car keeps moving,” she said, hating that she couldn’t get out of this by herself like Baird had done. But she would have to do a lot more moving around in the car than he did just to reach a viable exit. Her door was no longer wedged against the tree trunk, but a branch still prevented her from opening the door.
More branches snapped behind her. More rocks skittered down, striking other rocks. She was afraid any one of them would shake the car loose and spell disaster.
“We’re coming!” Cearnach shouted. “Just…just don’t move.” He was to the right of her, with Duncan behind him.
“We’re almost there,” Guthrie said, sounding really close now on the left side of the vehicle.
“All right.” She hated sounding so meek, but she felt even talking would send the car sliding.
Guthrie managed to reach the car and came into Calla’s view, holding on to a branch, the same one that was stopping her from opening her door.
“Guthrie, b
e careful,” Calla said.
He smiled at her as if he wasn’t worried about his safety, only hers, and the notion amused him, despite the circumstances.
“What do you want us to do?” Cearnach asked, peering in through the opposite window.
“You and Duncan hold on to the door handles if you can. Calla, I want you to unfasten your seat belt. I’m going to break this branch and open the car door. I’ll pull you out and then we’ll take it from there.”
Undoing her seat belt was harder than she’d ever imagined since her hands were shaking so much. She feared the car would take off and she’d need her seat belt in place, but Duncan and Cearnach grasped the door handles and nodded. Guthrie braced his feet against rocks. As soon as she nodded, he pulled the branch aside and broke it with a jerk. The car stayed put.
He reached for her door handle. “Okay, I’m going to open the door, and you get out and I’ll grab for you at the same time.”
Again she nodded, unable to say anything because she was so scared. What if she was half out of the car when it broke loose and continued its journey? What if it ran over her foot or dragged her down? Anything could go wrong.
He pulled on the door, but like the driver’s door, this one was stuck on rocks and only opened partway.
“Can you make it out this way?” he asked, his voice urgent.
“Aye, I think so.”
She inched her way out, the icy rain making the mossy rocks all the more slippery. She had one foot on the ground and was taking another step when she felt the car shudder. Guthrie grabbed her hand and pulled her a little as she tried to slip out through the narrow opening.
The car moved a few inches. Which meant she was closer to being free, but she wasn’t out yet.
“Hurry, Calla,” Cearnach grunted as he still held on to the car with a titan grip.
And then Guthrie drew her the rest of the way out. When the car didn’t move for a moment she thought she’d panicked for no reason. Until the car creaked. Guthrie quickly hauled Calla farther away from the vehicle, and Cearnach and Duncan let go of the door handles and jumped back completely out of the car’s path. They found solid footing, but the car slipped on the slick rocks, began to pick up speed, and raced down the rest of the way, crashing with a horrendous bang at the bottom. Calla jumped a little in Guthrie’s arms.
Guthrie held her tight in the sleeting rain, both of them smelling like wet wool. She was chilled to the bone, but she was so grateful to be in Guthrie’s arms.
“Where did Baird go?” Guthrie asked.
“He stripped and shifted. As a wolf, he made his way down to the beach. He heard your car stopping up above. Well, he heard a car. He might not have known it was you. He managed to call his brother, Vardon, and told him to pick him up south of here on the road.” She didn’t bother to mention the part about Baird looking right at her, still trapped in the vehicle, and telling his brother he was unable to rescue her. Guthrie would be angry enough as it was.
“Cearnach, can you help Calla back up the cliff?” Guthrie said, holding her tight and pressing against a tree to help them keep their footing, both of them getting wetter and colder.
None of them had coats on. All of them had removed them to pack and to drop off the boxes and unload the food at her parents’ home, and they must have rushed straight from there. Everyone was just wearing wool sweaters, trousers, and boots—and getting soaked.
“Nay,” Calla said.
“I’m going after him,” Guthrie said. “Cearnach?”
Calla began to pull off her sweater.
“What are you doing?” Guthrie asked.
“Going with you. If you’re chasing after him in your wolf coat, you’re not going alone.”
“I’m going with him,” Duncan said.
Guthrie hugged her tight. “It’s going to get ugly. Hell, if you try to shift, the way you’ve got to be feeling, you could pass out. And then you and I could be more at risk on this steep incline.”
The adrenaline was still pumping wildly through her blood. She frowned at him, not wanting to remain behind but realizing he could be right—as much as she hated to admit it.
“I don’t want to stay at the car,” she said, knowing why Guthrie didn’t want her to be with them. Sure, he didn’t need her help, but it was more that he didn’t want her to see the wolf fight that was likely to occur, she thought. Guthrie was her mate now, and she wanted to be there for him.
“Will you stay, please?” he said, stroking her cheek, his eyes worried.
Her head hurt so bad that she realized everything Guthrie had said was true. As much as she hated this, she nodded, kissed him, and then allowed Cearnach to lead her back up the hill, slipping the whole time.
Guthrie waited a heartbeat to watch Cearnach help a struggling Calla climb the hill. She would never have been able to shift and make it down the cliffs, not as dizzy as she was and with the sleet making everything so slick.
He and Duncan stripped as quickly as they could, considering how steep the cliffs were and how they had to brace themselves on trees while they undressed. They shifted, then made their way down the slope where it was more like a mountain goat’s path, but fine for the wolves. When they reached the bottom, they saw that the car was upside down, looking similar to Cearnach’s when it had landed at the bottom. The occupants would have been crushed.
Guthrie was glad Calla had stayed behind. Taking her by force when she was already mated to another meant Baird would never respect their boundaries. And Guthrie was afraid that even if he killed Baird, Vardon would need to be dealt with next.
Guthrie chased after Baird’s scent along the beach, Duncan keeping up with him. He hoped Calla had reached the car by now and was inside where she’d at least be out of the sleet.
Rocks jutted out into the water, and they had to swim to reach the other side. Wolf prints indicated the wolf was running.
Guthrie had to stop him this time.
Chapter 21
The sleet was still coming down, but in their wolf coats, they had the outer guard hairs to keep the water from soaking them. Guthrie’s feet dug into the sand as he made his way to the next group of rock outcroppings in the same direction Baird had gone. Guthrie had wanted to keep Calla from seeing the wolf fight, though he understood her need to be there to show her support for her mate. He still hadn’t wanted her to have to witness this.
They had to hurry. What if Vardon and some of his kin came to rescue Baird? What if they outnumbered Guthrie and his kin and attempted to grab Calla again? Guthrie had to prevent it from happening.
He swam around the rocks to reach the next beach and saw Baird trying to make it up the cliff. Here, the cliffs were even steeper and there was no way for a wolf to manage any farther than a third of the way up. No way Baird could make it in human form either, not without clothing to keep warm in the wintry sleet, or boots and gloves to protect his hands and feet on the rocks. Baird turned and was beginning to make his way back down to the beach when he saw Guthrie and stood stock-still.
When Baird made a move to head the rest of the way to the beach, Guthrie thought Baird would fight him. Until Baird ran for the next outcropping of rocks—heading straight for the water. Guthrie ran full out as if he were chasing prey in an attempt to catch up to Baird before he dove in and swam away.
Within reach, Guthrie leaped at Baird, landing on his back. Baird yipped in surprise, then growled and twisted around. The two reared up, both too alpha to submit. Snarling and growling, Guthrie bit at Baird’s face as he bit back.
Guthrie tasted Baird’s blood and they both rose up on their hind legs again, forelegs trying to get purchase, their teeth clicking against each other’s. Baird tried to stay on top but lost his balance and went down on all four paws. He ducked his head suddenly and bit low, aiming to bite into one of Guthrie’s legs. Guthrie jumped back, avoiding Baird’s wickedly snapping jaws. Baird tried for the water again, and Guthrie jumped against his right flank and bit him in the back.
Snarling, Baird turned to retaliate. Their teeth connected again and then, unable to bite anything vital above, Baird again went for Guthrie’s foreleg.
This time, as soon as he bent his head low for a lunging bite, Guthrie went high and grabbed him by the neck. Baird snarled and tried to shake Guthrie loose. But Guthrie was too angry and too determined to let him go.
Knowing this was his last chance, Baird continued to thrash about, trying to get free, and Guthrie continued to try to get a better grip.
Then they heard a car braking up on the cliffs. Sliding. Stopping. If it was Vardon, he wouldn’t know that Baird had come this far, but Calla and Cearnach could be in danger. Then the car began rolling toward Guthrie’s vehicle. Hell. Guthrie could just imagine them discovering that the car was his, shoving it off the cliffs, and stranding him and his brothers and Calla.
Calla!
With the distraction, Guthrie lost his grip on Baird. The wolf dove into the sea and out of sight, and Guthrie growled at his lost chance, but Guthrie and Duncan had to reach Calla and Cearnach pronto.
Guthrie and Duncan raced across the beach, dove into the water, and swam around the cliffs. As soon as they hit the other beach, they dashed across it and to the cliffs where Baird’s car had fallen. The road was not visible from the beach and they had quickly begun the climb up when they heard a car stop south of where Guthrie’s car was. Vardon and his kin would know it was Guthrie’s car. Even if they didn’t recognize the vehicle itself, they could smell that he was here with two of his brothers. They’d know that some of the MacNeills had gone after Baird.
Cearnach wouldn’t be enough of a threat if he had to face too many wolves. Guthrie heard Baird’s kin talking and tried to climb carefully, not wanting to send any rocks tumbling down the hill to alert them that he and Duncan were coming.
“Let’s grab the girl and give Guthrie’s car a proper send-off,” Vardon said.
Guthrie had to stop them at all costs.
“What about Baird?” Robert asked.
“What about him?” Vardon said.
