Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(16)

His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he debated how to secure her cooperation. “Come home with me, Natalie. I can give you something the police can’t.”

Her expression turned wary, fear alive in those no longer calm, gray eyes. “And what is that?”

He met her gaze, his mouth twisting in a semblance of a smile. “Xavier.”

Natalie swayed, her heart suddenly in her throat.

“Where is he? What have you done to him?” She’d started to trust this man, this . . . werewolf. Was he nothing but a kidnapper? A murderer? “The week I lost, was I your prisoner, too?”

“We didn’t hurt you. We let you go.”

“But not Xavier.”

“We couldn’t take his memories of all he’d seen. We can only take memories through the eyes.”

She stared at him, the sudden feeling washing over her that they’d had this discussion before. “And his don’t work.”

“He’s fine, Natalie. He’s safe. And he’ll be glad to see you.”

Safe. How could he possibly be safe? Her pulse raced, her muscles tensing with the need to run. With him injured, she might be able to get away. But what if he was telling the truth? What if he really could take her to Xavier?

She pressed a trembling palm to her pounding head and met the werewolf’s gaze. The warm light of kindness emanating from his dark eyes slowly burned through her own haze of fear, reminding her why she’d been drawn to the animal in the first place. Despite every logical thing to the contrary, her instincts told her she could trust him. He wouldn’t hurt her.

And she would risk being wrong, risk anything, to reach Xavier.

“Okay.”

He watched her for a moment more, then nodded and turned. “We’ll leave through the front door and circle to the back. I don’t want you having to see . . .”

“The bodies.”

“Yes.”

She grabbed the lantern. “Why the backyard?”

“My truck is on the other side of the woods.”

The wolf always came to her through the woods. He drove a truck? Of course he did.

The man opened the door. “Pack a bag. Quickly. Essentials only, and just for a few days.”

A bag. With a shake of her head, she focused on that, just that, and slipped past him to run to her bedroom. “Does Xavier need anything?” she called as she grabbed the small, hard-sided, yellow suitcase out of her closet.

“Not that I know of.” She turned to find him standing in her doorway, watching her. “We’d have gotten him anything he asked for. Pink makes the shopping lists, and he’s become her best friend. Fuck.”

The man exploded into sparkling lights, and suddenly the wolf was back.

Pardon my language.

At the sound of his voice in her head, she met his wolf’s gaze and saw the man’s intelligence and personality in the wolf’s eyes. Chills ran down her arms, making the hair rise. He was speaking to her. Telepathically.

The draden are back, and I have to stay in my wolf. I’ll explain that later. Pack, Natalie. And change your shirt.

With a shake to clear her head, she glanced down to find her clothes and arms streaked with blood. For a moment, she just stared. Then, taking a shaky breath, she pulled herself together again. They needed to get out of here quickly, before more of those soldiers came. The thought spurred her to move. Grabbing a clean tee, she ran into the bathroom to change and grab a few toiletries, then packed quickly.

Feral House is full of women, these days, the wolf said as she added the last items. Most of my brothers are married. If you forget anything, you can borrow it.

Married werewolves. Her head was going to explode. “How many of you are there?”

One wolf shifter. More than a dozen other Ferals . . . shifters . . . each of whom shifts into a different animal. I’ll explain more later.

So not werewolves. Not exactly.

She zipped the suitcase, then grabbed the flashlight off the bottom shelf of her nightstand, deciding the lower light would attract less attention. Turning to the wolf, the shape-shifter, she said, “I’m ready.”

He rose and trotted to the stairs.

“I’m going to need my purse. It’s on the desk in the kitchen.” She really wanted her laptop, too, but she was afraid the rain would destroy it.

I’ll get the purse and your phone. Grab a raincoat. It’s pouring.

The wolf ran down the stairs ahead of her as the wind and rain blew in through the open front door. By the time Natalie snatched her raincoat out of the coat closet and pulled it on, her pants were already damp. As she turned her back to the buffeting wind to zip up the raincoat, she made the mistake of glancing toward the family room just as another bolt of lightning illuminated the house. Bodies . . . body parts . . . lay everywhere, blood streaking the walls and soaking the carpeting. The sight burned her eyes and made the bile rise in her throat. Swallowing it back down, she spun away.

Her house was ruined. Her life was in shambles. But Xavier might still be alive. The thought raced through her like a live wire, filling her with hope and excitement, strengthening her against all she’d lost. Because if she could really see him again, if she truly found him safe and well, none of this mattered. None of it.

Straightening, she pulled up her hood and waited. A moment later, the wolf returned with her purse dangling from his mouth. She took it from him, slung it over her shoulder, and braced herself against the wind as she stepped through the wreckage of the front door and into the driving rain. Without a backward glance, the wolf at her side, Natalie left everything she knew behind.