But whatever was below was also one.
The silence lasted almost ten minutes. Then all of a sudden, a flurry of noises started below again, faint but steadily getting louder. Limbs moving around, she realized, circling the area over and over.
Nell squeezed his hands once, and Hans removed them. She leaned forward as slowly as she could, her gaze going over the leaves covering them until an inch of clear spot let her see the ground below. She only had a second to watch the whiteness of the snow before something passed to cover it. She saw brown fur with spots of gray, almost like the fur of a wolf. There were spikes spread out all over it, almost as sharp as her fangs. She counted the seconds until it disappeared from her limited sight, her eyes widening as she finally determined its size.
Another passed, then another. Three of them.
Still using her stealth, Nell eased back until she was pressed against Hans again. They were extra careful as they repositioned together, so as not to disturb the chain cuffing them. She itched to tell him what she saw, but didn’t dare voice it out even in a whisper. She had the feeling these creatures were just as sensitive to hearing as they were, and the only things protecting them at the moment were the cover of the trees and the potion they used on themselves.
Minutes passed, but it felt like hours. Finally, Hans rolled his shoulders behind her, lessening his rigid stance. His warm breath filled her ear again, and she stifled a shiver.
“What did you see?” he asked, his voice barely heard.
Nell held out three fingers, then turned her head to whisper back. Her mouth almost touched his, and her breath caught in her throat. But she forced herself to sound normal.
“They have fur and spikes. Each twice our length.”
His body tensed again, telling her he didn’t like it. She didn’t like it, either. They didn’t know their chances against them, didn’t know if there were others waiting nearby. Their best chance was to stay put until the sun came up again.
As if reading her thoughts, Hans repositioned again, moving them in a rhythm that suited them both. She was back between his legs, his arms wrapping her up.
“Sleep,” he said gruffly. “You still have two hours.”
Nell nodded her head. Then she forced her eyes to close, even while her heart beat faster more than she was willing to admit.
*****
They alternated sleeping. Two hours after her last turn, Hans woke her up. He said nothing untoward happened other than the same creatures passing by below twice before disappearing. This was obviously their territory, or at least part of it, and the two got used to the creatures’ routine below, despite still being cautious.
“I’ll wake up in an hour,” he promised.
He was still asleep when the hour was up, and Nell let him be. She could tell he was tired, had barely slept during his turn. While he was all but knocked out, his heat seeped into her bones, making her feel hot and more alive than ever before.
He made her feel safe.
And it wasn’t right.
The creatures passed by once more during her watch, but she sensed nothing alarming. When they were gone, Nell decided to risk it and tried to crawl to her viewing spot again—but hands held her by the waist and dragged her back, and Hans’ chin rested on her head. He was breathing evenly, still asleep.
Something hard poked at her back, and Nell froze. She bit back her moan as she realized what it was—as flashes of their kiss entered her mind and stayed there, making her want to do reckless things.
Wild things.
She bit her tongue until she felt pain on it. It erased the images and served as a reminder to her that whatever she felt for him—physical or otherwise—had no place here.
His face flashed in her mind, ruggedly handsome despite her better judgement. Sensual lips that made her fingers itch to touch. Hands that knew what they were doing.
Enough.
Irritated with herself, Nell shook her head and finally woke him up. She shook him twice, feeling him grow alert instantly. Whatever his sleep reaction was—morning wood, she guessed—disappeared, much to her relief.
“They’re gone,” she whispered. “Sun will be up in a few minutes.”
He nodded and gently pushed her away so he could stretch his legs. She found herself feeling disappointed and shook it off, because there was nothing to be disappointed about. She stretched her own legs, feeling pain at her soles. Right. There were blisters forming there, but she’d just have to deal with it. She readied her re-stitched bag on her shoulders and waited for him to do the same.
When Hans indicated he was ready and whispered instructions, she braced herself. He stretched his body and his head disappeared down the branches—not so far as to disturb their cuffs, but enough to stretch it to its limit—and she took out her dagger and let her body still. Five minutes later, Hans’ head popped back up.
“Coast is clear. Let’s go.”
The snow was coming relentlessly now, and their footsteps disappeared quickly.
So they trekked and tried to get out of there as fast as they could.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The snow didn’t let up once they got out of the forest, coating everything in white and making it damn hard to smell anything for miles away. So far there was no one following them, but that didn’t stop Hans from worrying that something was about to lunge at them with them being none the wiser. His sense of smell always helped him, and this certain feeling of not being able to smell anything ahead made him more frustrated than he wanted to admit.
Nell was being broodier than she let on, too. There was something on her mind, something she wasn’t willing to share, and he left her alone with her thoughts. It wasn’t like he didn’t have secrets, too.
He knew his irritation stemmed on this—on being near her and fighting the urge to…do something other than be quiet. She kept him on edge, kept him on his toes while remaining a puzzle that he couldn’t solve.
A vampire who drank blood, but couldn’t even insulate herself and pretended to hide it. A ruthless rogue killer, witch killer…but one who saved the life of a shifter without hesitation.
He couldn’t figure her out, and that bothered him more than most.
Liar, his mind whispered. Yes, he was.
Then there was the matter of his bear inside wanting to pounce on her too many times to count—and no, it wasn’t the kind of pouncing that would kill her. It was the kind of pouncing that would set them both on fire and ignite a passion that neither of them were prepared for.
A more dangerous kind, in his opinion.
Hans distracted himself by focusing on the mission and trekking without thought. He was more watchful today due to the weather condition, and she was doing the same, which meant less talking. There was no denying that the falling snow and the landscape did make for a pretty picture, though neither had the luxury to stop and stare.
They covered a lot of ground. Hans was unusually fast for a bear, who were more inclined to being strong. But being just strong hadn’t sat well for him as a child, so he did his best to develop his speed and hone it as he grew older. It made him a formidable enemy, which suited him just fine.
Nell was fast, too, and was able to keep up with him without complaint—for the first few hours. He didn’t know at what point he noticed it, but he did—the slight droop of her shoulders and the almost unnoticeable hobble when she walked. At first he ignored it, because she didn’t complain. But her mood steadily depleted right before his eyes, and…well, this bothered him.
When she stumbled behind him, accidentally spraying snow in the air, he shot her a look.
“Rest?”
Nell didn’t meet his gaze as she shook her head. “No. Let’s keep going.”
His lips thinned, but he nodded his head. The snow became vicious, whipping in the opposite direction they were headed, and she stayed behind him as he protected her with his body from the winds.
When she stumbled for the second time, he abruptly sto
pped, causing her to bump on his back. See? Something was wrong. She was a vampire—she had better reflexes than that. Hans caught her arm before she could land on her butt, pulling her up. She winced, then glared at him.
Another thing that bothered him: she wasn’t supposed to wince.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she bit out. “I don’t even know why we’re stopping—hey!”
“Quiet,” he growled. Hans continued pulling her leg despite her protest, yanking her pants up. Her bandages were in place, no blood seeping from them. He turned the sole of her foot in his direction, then sucked in a sharp breath.
Then Hans began cursing.
“Quiet!” She was the one hissing now. “You’re making too much noise.”
Her foot was covered in blisters—red ones, meaning they had been there for some time. Anger welled up inside him that she didn’t trust him enough to tell him. Then frustration replaced it as he realized why.
“We need to rest,” he declared.
“Like hell we do,” she snarled, her temper rising. “I can perfectly handle myself.”
“Like hell you can.”
“Don’t treat me like an imbecile.”
“That’s not how I’m treating you. But you’re being foolish.”
She made a choking sound of protest. The sound turned into a strangled yelp, almost like a cat, when he took her by the knees and carried her on his shoulder with her head hanging down behind him. He expected another protest and braced himself for the onslaught of fists pounding on his back, or perhaps a kick down the front. But she did none of those things.
Instead, Nell froze.
A second later, he realized why.
Hissing sounded from afar. Rogues.
With no choice in the matter, Hans dropped her back to the ground. A rhythm existed between them, without word, as she removed her cloak and began using it to brush away their footsteps. He began walking forward, away from the direction of the noise, until he found an underbrush that was covered with snow. Waiting until Nell finished removing the footprints, he let her slide in first, then dove right in after her and covered the opening with more snow. She hurriedly sprinkled the potion on the entrance, then more on themselves.
Not two seconds later, a blur of movement passed just a few meters in front of them. The unmistakable stench of the rogue permeated around, right before it leapt through the air.
A howl sounded, unnatural and full of foul magic that made Hans’ spine rigid. Beside him, Nell’s skin prickled. He pulled her closer as they watched another blur of movement in front of them.
The spiky, furry gray creature that circled the ground where they hid came into view. Then it was attacking the rogue for all it was worth, and the rogue was attacking back.
Adrenaline rushed inside Hans, and his blood pounded as snow sprayed and blood flowed. The bear in him wanted to come out and fight, to shed blood and rip through flesh. But he fought it, shoving it to the back of his senses and snarling at it to stay there. Now wasn’t the time to be alpha, and his cuff only meant he would be dragging Nell with him. Another rogue joined in, then another. The furry creature was larger than the rogues, but their almost synchronized attack caught it as they snapped their jaws and sunk their teeth in. More blood flowed.
Just as they thought it would be defeated, the furry creature howled madly. Its blood red eyes flashed in rage before it rolled in a blur, taking the rogues with it. The spikes on its skin stabbed the rogues—over and over and over until they weakened. Then it was the one attacking them, ripping and clawing until innards were scattered all over the snow, a disturbing sight.
All three rogues were dead.
A hand squeezed his. Hans squeezed Nell’s back as another furry creature came into view—the brown one with the spots. It sidled beside the first one, licking the blood off him.
Another blur, then another. Too many. Rogues surrounded them and attacked without warning. On instinct, Hans pulled Nell closer, feeling her shiver—from the cold or what was happening, he couldn’t tell. But her presence was a reassurance that they were safe there for a while, as the creatures were too absorbed in killing each other.
Blood filled the air, the smell pungent and sweet. They couldn’t tell who was winning.
Suddenly Nell tensed beside him. He tensed a split second later as he felt it—fur brushing his leg. They both turned at the same time, and his blood ran cold when he saw what was in the underbrush with them—the third creature, its red eyes staring straight at him.
Nell whipped her dagger out. Then he felt her muscles bunching, almost as if ready to spring.
“Wait.”
She almost snarled at him—but he felt her still as he kept his hand on her wrist. Hans didn’t dare look at her, as he was too busy keeping eye contact with the furry creature.
It had white fur and ivory spikes, almost like the snow. No wonder it was difficult to spot. But that wasn’t what had Hans stopping Nell.
It was the fact that the creature was simply looking. No tensing, no strain of muscles. No hostility.
It wasn’t planning on attacking them.
Foul magic surrounded it, cloying and thick. But the creature bowed its head, the first to break eye contact with Hans—a sign that it recognized the predator in Hans as stronger and was bowing out. A backing away of sorts, predator to predator. Its head tilted north, an unspoken signal.
Then it was slipping away and joining the fight before they could even blink.
Hans stared in disbelief for a few seconds. “It’s not an enemy.”
Silence, as the brutality went on.
Finally, Nell’s whisper penetrated. “We need to go.”
Hans abruptly nodded his head. Then, with one final look at the three creatures and the too many rogues, he crawled out of their hiding place and into the snow, away from the bloodbath. Nell followed.
*****
They got out of the snowy field and managed to sneak into another forest without being attacked—a miracle in itself, though Hans suspected it had more to do with the recent turn of events. Once they entered the trees, they broke into a quiet run, then climbed to the nearest sturdy tree to cover their tracks and traveled through the trees. They ran and ran without looking back, using whatever energy they could without stopping. It took hours, but not a sound was uttered between them save for him asking about her blisters and Nell insisting she was fine.
Hours later, they were finally nearing the end of the forest they entered, and the snow had thinned out. The cold gradually vanished, replaced by a humidity that melted whatever snow was still stuck to their clothes and skin, making them wet in the process. Then the forest stopped, the trees giving way to a field that was perhaps the largest that they have encountered since they got here. No forest surrounded the field, its endlessness distinct and the sky clear. This was the top of the mountain. It had to be.
But that wasn’t all.
The biggest change of them all? The field they were facing was full of sand.
Miles and miles of it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was the eeriest sight she’d ever seen.
The snow had stopped, only to be replaced by harsh sand that stretched for miles. At first glance, you would think you were in some exotic dessert land, with the sun beating down on you in a place ruled by scorpions. But the desert look stopped there, because instead of the sand everywhere, it only stretched out as one big circle, with the forest they exited standing on the edge of it. The rest had distant views of cliffs and mountains identical to each other, though the mountains weren’t connected to the desert itself—they were just beyond the cliffs, out of reach.
It made for a pretty sight, because the mountains looked like giants spheres of lush green. But it was also creepy because it served as a reminder that they were stuck on the sandy area of this particular mountain and could only look at the other mountains from afar but never cross.
On the other hand, they were
now at the very top. This had to be where the nest of rogues were, as well as the cure that Hans was looking for. After they found both, they were home free.
She knew that was what he was thinking, too, because he didn’t make any protest when she suggested they get on with it. She preferred the sand to the snow, because here her senses were better attuned and her clothes were better suited.
The thought of the rogue nest made her remember the furry creatures trying to fight them—particularly the snow-colored one who snuck up behind her and Hans without warning and just stared at them. She’d been wrong all along in assuming that they wanted her dead, despite the vile magic that ran across their very being. Either that, or Hans was just too good at the stare down he’d done with the creature before they’d escaped.
A memory of the fight flashed through her mind—the gore as limbs tore from the body and blood flowed too freely. It reminded her of the vampire battles back then, when Lucinda was still looking for a first and second in line. The vampire battle consisted of vampires fighting each other in an arena, until the strongest and smartest were left and became the vampire leader’s right hands. Very few vampires played nice, as most showed just how ruthless they could be by killing their enemies without thought—and for many, without finesse, as their savage side came to play. She remembered the blood bringing about her bloodlust before.
Just as it did now.
God, but she was hungry. She’d been relying on her energy packs for her food supplement, but only a few were left when her bag tore up in that blasted river. Now, she was down to rationing her last pack, which was supposed to last her a day. But she was concerned about stretching it and making it last until tomorrow at least, the day after tomorrow at most.
The blood flowing in the snow hours earlier only served as a reminder that she hadn’t had any blood since the witch—and that it hadn’t tasted good at all, despite its warmth. The witch’s blood was old and foul, as if she had done too much to her body with her magic to ever be normal anymore. Nell would kill for a moose’s blood right now. It was her usual staple in New York, and their big bodies allowed her to just take enough blood and still leave them alive.
Hans (The Clan Legacy) Page 7
