Protector Panther: BBW Panther Shifter Paranormal Romance (Protection, Inc. Book 3)
Page 20
The men were armed with both black boxes and dart guns, like you’d use to tranquilize a wild animal. That went a long way to confirm what they knew or guessed about Roy.
Forcing himself not to hurry, he started to walk past.
“Hey!” One guard tried to grab his arm.
Roy punched him in the stomach, doubling him over, and snatched his dart gun. In one smooth movement, he swung around and slammed the gun’s butt into the second guard’s shoulder. The man dropped his dart gun with a cry of pain. But before Roy could stop him, he hit a red button on the wall.
Brilliant lights began to flash. A siren went off. Pain exploded in Roy’s head. His knees banged into the floor, the dart gun falling from his hand.
Clenching his jaw, Roy forced himself to his feet. He couldn’t get his eyes to open. He staggered, dizzy and blind, barely able to think through the agony. He felt like he was about to pass out. Even if he managed to stay conscious, he couldn’t fight. One way or another, he’d be captured and dragged back to his cell.
He only had one chance left: to transform into a wolf.
He’d sworn that he wouldn’t try it here. He didn’t know if it would help. He didn’t even know if it was possible. He’d only become a wolf once before, in Afghanistan.
A captured Marine has a duty to escape. Whatever they do to me— whatever I’ve become— I’m still a Marine.
In his mind, a wolf howled.
He’d done it before. He could do it again. Roy had been avoiding the memory, but now he sought it, trying to recall every detail.
Tearing pain in my chest. Blood in my mouth. DJ’s fingers digging into my shoulders. His hoarse voice shouting my name. DJ’s face and the sky and the wrecked helicopter in the distance, all fading out. Hot sand under my back.
And then...
Hot sun on my fur. Four paws scrabbling in the sand. Scents everywhere, rich and distinct: me and DJ and blood and sand and weeds and metal and oil and...
Roy reached inside himself, searching for the part of him that was wild and free and would rather die than be caged.
He found his wolf.
The overwhelming dizziness eased. The sirens and flashing lights were still agonizing, but his wolf body was that crucial bit stronger, better equipped to cope with pain. He was lower to the ground, in a world without colors, but with scents as bright and clear as neon lights.
A man was raising a dart gun. Roy instinctively jumped to avoid the dart, his ears swiveling to catch the hiss and thwack as it buried itself in the wall behind him. He leaped at the man and slammed him down. The dart gun skittered across the floor.
He could smell the sharpness of the guard’s fear. It would be so easy to bend his head and rip out his enemy’s throat...
The fresh scent of open air was ahead of him. Roy released his prey and bounded ahead, racing through the closing door.
Freedom!
He was outside. It was night. People were shouting and running toward him.
An electric fence let out a low crackle and a smell of ozone. Roy tore toward it. He had no idea if he could jump high enough to clear it, but he’d rather die than be locked up forever. And now that he’d revealed what he was, they’d never let him go.
A dart hissed past his ear as he gathered his strength and leaped as high as he could. He cleared the fence and landed hard on the other side.
The shock of impact, in that unfamiliar body, sent him tumbling head over paws. When he finally fetched up in a heap, darts were hitting the ground all around him.
Lucky I rolled, he thought.
He gathered himself and leaped forward again. This time he landed smoothly. A forest was before him, dark and welcoming. He raced through it until all sounds and scents of pursuit were gone, and then he kept on running for the sheer joy of it.
In his wolf’s body, in this natural environment without electric lights or chemical smells or crowds of humans, he finally felt at ease. For the first time since he’d been wounded, his body was working as it should, strong and swift and without pain. Even as simple a movement as his paws striking the earth was a pleasure. It felt so much better to be a wolf than it did to be a human.
That thought gave him pause. What if he liked being a wolf so much that he stopped wanting to be a man?
He reached into himself, remembering the weight of his rucksack on his back, joking with his buddies, firing his SAW...
Roy stumbled, off-balance on two feet, and grabbed at a tree to stop from falling. He took a deep breath, focused on the rough texture of the bark under his fingers, and settled into his man’s body.
To his relief, the doctor’s clothes had come with him. To his greater relief, the moonlight didn’t hurt his eyes. The sounds and smells of the forest were distinct and noticeable, but not overwhelming. If he’d only been allowed into a natural environment earlier, he could have saved himself a whole lot of misery.
Remembering the tumble he’d taken, he checked himself for injuries. His knees and shoulders were bruised, and he’d strained his left wrist: nothing serious. Roy walked on, setting a brisk pace and taking care not to leave a trail.
For the first time, he examined the forest with a man’s mind, recognizing the landscape of huge gray boulders and enormously tall trees with corrugated, cinnamon-colored bark. He’d only been to northern California once, years ago, but he’d never forgotten the redwoods.
He wasn’t concerned about being alone in the wilderness with no supplies or weapons. He’d roughed it before. Weapons could be improvised, and food could be hunted or gathered.
The scents of rich earth and moss rose up with every footstep. Owls hooted, crickets chirped, and small animals rustled in the bushes. The moist dirt underfoot told him that water wouldn’t be a problem. He didn’t even need to make traps— as a wolf, he ought to be able to catch rabbits, maybe a deer.
His biggest concern, apart from pursuit, was the temperature. His breath condensed in puffs of mist, and the boulders were patched with frost. He didn’t feel cold, but that was probably because he’d exerted himself enough to work up a sweat. But as a wolf, he had a thick fur coat. If it got too cold, he’d change. He’d never heard of wolves getting hypothermia.
Wilderness survival was easy. But figuring out what he should do once he was out of the woods was much more complicated. It could have been months since his helicopter had been shot down. What did his team think had happened to him?
Even if they’re all still in-country, they’d never be okay with not hearing from me at all, Roy thought. They probably got told that I’m dead or MIA.
He hated to think how DJ must feel about that. It would just about kill Roy if he thought he’d done everything he’d could to save DJ and then learned that he’d died in the hospital, alone.
But now that Roy had revealed what he was, his captors would be after him for sure. They could have his entire unit’s phones and email tapped, waiting for Roy to contact one of them. He couldn’t risk getting in touch with anyone he knew until he learned more. He needed to find some safe place to lay low.
An odd feeling tugged at his mind, an inexplicable urge: That way.
That way didn’t look any different from any other way. But if he’d learned one thing in his years as a Marine, it was that funny little feelings were worth paying attention to.
Funny little feelings could mean that you’d noticed tiny clues, without even noticing that you’d noticed them, that meant that there was a bomb in the road, or that the innocent-looking civilian wasn’t innocent and wasn’t a civilian, or that the wild-eyed man trying to charge the roadblock was an innocent civilian who was trying to get help for his sick wife.
He’d travel faster as a wolf. And with no supplies of any kind, he’d probably sleep safer and enjoy eating raw rabbit more as a wolf, too.
Roy found his wolf. And loped off through the redwoods, heading that way.
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/> Zoe Chant, Protector Panther: BBW Panther Shifter Paranormal Romance (Protection, Inc. Book 3)