(Un)wise
: Chapter 11

I ran. They toyed with me. With their speed, I knew they could catch me at any moment. But what fun would that be, I thought bitterly. The echoes of past lives hit me. Same game, same chase. My anger grew, fueling my legs. I pushed past the pain and kept moving. Just like my dreams, I sought something. A place to jump. A way to die cleanly. They couldn’t have me. The price for the world was too high.

A coughing laugh from behind me signaled their full transformation. I dodged around trees gasping for air, not slowing. Was it too much to ask for a random cliff in the woods every now and again?

Fear pooled in my stomach as my leg failed with a cramp. I fell hard but didn’t lay in a pathetic heap for more than a heartbeat. I got my knees under me and as I sprang up, I thrust my hand into my bag, which was still slung across my body. My quick moves didn’t matter. They were already upon me, their panting louder than my own as they laughed.

Pulling my hand from the bag, I surprised them with my knife. My gift from Luke. I felt a pang thinking of him. Leaving hadn’t kept me any safer.

One of the men shifted back enough to speak, but his mouth was still too long for the words to come out clearly. “What do you think to do with that?”

Around us the trees remained quiet. Only the distant chirping of birds reminded me I wasn’t alone.

“What did you hope to accomplish by chasing me?” I countered.

“Blake told us you would know. You’re the dreamer,” he said further shifting into a man.

“Your new leader?” I asked while willing myself to breathe deeply and trying to quell my fear.

They didn’t answer but it didn’t matter. Their leader changed each cycle, but their goals did not.

“If I’m the dreamer, then we all know the outcome,” I said. “Walk away and maybe I’ll live for another day.”

“I don’t think so, little girl,” he said as he eyed my knife.

“I’d hoped history wouldn’t repeat itself this time. I’m tired of dying.” The fear left me. Only sorrow remained as I spun the knife deftly and plunged it toward my soft middle.

The man roared and moved before the tip did more than pierce the surface. I’d underestimated their speed. But, when he batted it out of my hands, he didn’t realize he furthered my cause. A thin trail of fire blazed across my middle, superficial at best, but his nostrils flared as he scented my blood. I shifted my stance, bracing myself.

He growled but didn’t touch me further. We stood facing each other with me slightly bent holding an arm against the sting on my stomach. The other two stood several paces behind their spokesperson.

“Come with us on your own and spare yourself some pain.”

Spare myself pain? He had just acknowledged I remembered my—our—past lives. “Stupid dog,” I laughed.

He cuffed me upside the head, knocking me to my side. I staggered but did not fall. It hurt my cut but brought me closer to my knife. I didn’t look at the shining blade resting on the decaying leaves. Instead, I straightened and faced him again.

“Your brain mustn’t have expanded again with that last shift.”

This time he slapped me. It was hard enough to justify a stumble a few more steps to my right.

“See?” I managed on a pain-filled exhale. “Pain is all you know how to give. There won’t be any sparing of anything but kindness and mercy.”

He snorted. “Mercy is for the weak.”

“No. Mercy is for anyone with a big enough vocabulary to —”

I didn’t get to finish the insult. He knocked me hard. The side of my face exploded in agony as I went down. This time, right on the knife. I laughed like a madwoman as I lay there. No one moved to touch me again. Were they trying to figure out what was so funny? It didn’t matter. I’d reached my goal. They wouldn’t have me this time.

Putting my arms under myself, I palmed the handle and stood, hiding my weapon behind my back, trying to angle the blade for my next fall.

“Stupid,” I taunted.

Before he could move, something big and dark flew toward one of the beasts, knocking it into a tree. I didn’t take my eyes from the man in front of me, but it looked like another one of them, half transformed.

The attention of the one in front of me didn’t waver, either. As soon as one of his own hit the tree, he immediately grabbed for me. I slashed out with the knife, taking him by surprise. The wild swing relieved him of a not quite human digit. He screamed as behind him another member of his pack flew at the new attacker.

The wolf before me ignored the blood dripping from his hand and crouched slightly, watching me closely. His injury had wiped his patronizingly amused expression from his face. Tense, he hesitated, unsure how to come at me.

I grinned at him. “Stupid and slow. A bad combination in a fight.”

His lip curled back in a silent snarl a moment before he lunged toward me. I swung the knife up and over in a diagonal slash that caught his chest and part of his face when he pulled back. My arm ached from the force I’d used. I knew I wouldn’t take him by surprise again. Or could I?

He lunged once more, but this time I did not swing for him. I brought the knife up to my own neck. Seeing the edge poised at my throat, he suddenly flew backwards, away from me. The move gave me a clear view of who’d joined the fight.

Luke, shifted to a mix of more wolf than man, held my tormentor by the throat. The man’s flesh bulged between Luke’s fingers. The man flailed but didn’t make a sound. He couldn’t. Luke spun, putting his back to me at the same time his arm twitched. A loud popping crack sounded. The man stilled.

In the silence, I caught a distant sound of drumming feet hitting the ground. My shoulders slumped and the unfurling hope within me quickly withered. Too many this time.

Luke tossed the dead man aside and pivoted toward the sound. His strong back shielded me from the horde racing toward us. For just a moment, I rested my forehead against the solid wall of him. I breathed deeply smelling his sweat and soap. He didn’t move. His focus remained on the oncoming pack. He would die for me. My chest tightened, and I struggled with my next inhale. I didn’t want that. But I knew he wouldn’t leave.

The drumming grew louder. Branches snapped as the wolves forced their way toward us. A howl rent the air.

How had I been so stubbornly stupid? In a way, I still was. Too afraid to admit, even to myself, how much I cared for the man standing in front of me. I’d squandered any chance for happiness—no matter how brief—in this life. I hoped the memory of Luke and how I felt for him would give me more courage in the next one. Courage to trust. Courage to see the truth. He wasn’t one of them.

“I will hold the memory of you in my heart forever,” I managed to say before a single tear rolled down my cheek. That’s all I had time for. I hoped he knew what he meant to me. Straightening, I flipped the knife so the handle was clasped in my hand, but the blade along my forearm angled outward. I hoped it would be harder to knock out of my hand that way.

As the first of them erupted from the underbrush, Luke spun out with his claws, slashing through the wolf’s soft underbelly. Its sharp cry pierced the air and signaled the start of madness.

I braced myself, ready for anything, but nothing broke through Luke’s guard with the first wave. He knocked body after body back, eviscerating those he could. Blood soaked the ground, but he held firm.

A movement away from the main attack caught my attention. I looked away from the carnage to see several sneaking around us. Turning, I stood with my back to Luke.

I stood in a bloodied field. Bodies littered the ground around me, but still more came. I moved like water, bending and flowing over the mass that would kill me, anger fueling me. I had no claws, but the knives struck them just as well.

The vision slammed into me, then left me as I blinked at the dogs who’d come several steps closer. The echo of that epic battle burrowed into my mind and wouldn’t let go. I could fight. Loosening my stance, I slightly bent my knees, ready on the balls of my feet. I could do better than a lucky swing that might claim a finger. I could kill. Adrenaline surged through me. I looked at the numbers around us and doubted it would be enough.

The first one crept toward me, and I felt Luke shift behind me.

“Focus on your side,” I said as I moved like water once again, but for the first time in this life. Wide stance…lean to the side and sweep the arm out as you move, I thought. The blade slid through flesh and bumped bone. I pulled the blade back and shifted my weight to the other side to kick out, knocking the shocked beast to the side.

I grinned. I got this! Using my muscles in ways they had never been used in this lifetime, I continued sweeping and slashing my blade. The sharp edge bit into the fur covered flesh of three of them before they partially shifted. They didn’t want to kill me so their fangs and claws had less use than opposable thumbs. Still, I had an advantage for a while. Then, I noticed some of the cuts I’d made starting to knit together. I needed to do more than wound. My mind knew the moves, but my untrained body often fell short on delivery.

Soon their anger over my continued slices had them striking harder. Aches formed where they’d managed to sneak through my guard and hit me. Those punishing blows were meant to wear me down. It worked.

An attacker caught my arm and pulled me forward as something bumped into me from behind, off balancing me so I fell toward my attacker’s chest. I face planted into the disgustingly wet furred chest then felt a blow vibrate through his body. He jerked oddly. His grip loosened. I pulled back and looked up at his face as he let go. Bile rose to my throat at the sight of the bloody stump of his neck. He fell to the side. I swallowed heavily and looked for the next attacker.

Fewer stood before me than there’d been a moment ago. And those still around me had shifted their attention from me to Luke. Risking a quick glance, I saw why.

Several jumped on him at once, weighing him down as they grappled with his swinging arms. The remaining men joined in, knowing as I did, that if they brought Luke down, they would have me. None of them paid me any attention, now.

Luke’s tendons stood out with strain as he continued to struggle. An attacker bit into Luke’s neck and held on. Luke didn’t have time to shake the man before another attacker flew at him. No one noticed that I had shifted my focus to the wolf still attached to him. I flipped the blade in my hand and threw it. It sank into the biter’s side. The man grunted but didn’t loosen his hold. Luke gripped another man’s head, twisted the man’s neck savagely, then turned to the next attacker before the body fell. But Luke’s movements were slow and sluggish because of the man whose teeth still pierced him.

I stepped forward and pulled the handle of my knife, now stuck in the man’s middle, up until the blade resisted. The man, screaming in pain, let go. Luke continued to fight. I stepped back, flowing into my ready stance, waiting. The sounds of Luke’s struggles faded to the background as I maintained my focus. Rage and retribution filled the man’s gaze. His claws elongated, his fingers receding to make room for their full length. With a snarl, he reached for me. But he didn’t move far. Luke sent his last attacker flying, then twisted to address the man I faced. He raked the man, gutting him in a spray of blood, from groin to throat.

Looking away, I scanned the area around us, the trees, the undergrowth, searching for more. The thud of the man’s body falling to the ground heralded a harsh kind of silence.

Luke’s ragged breaths blended with mine, the only noise filling the air. Nothing moved. The animals around us remained silent. Then, a single bird chirped. My eyes flew to Luke’s. He too remained partially crouched. But nothing happened.

We’d done it.

I slowly straightened, wincing at the various little pains that tingled into my awareness. My wounds didn’t concern me as much as Luke’s did. Blood painted his clothes and dotted his half-transformed face. I bent and grabbed a shirt from the bag. With each breath, his features settled back into the man I knew. Except his eyes. They stayed dilated, overly large and completely focused on me. I started shaking from too much adrenaline and nothing to use it on. Or maybe shock. Who knew?

He took two steps forward, plucked the knife from my hand, and dropped it to the ground. Anger remained in his eyes. His jaw muscles twitched rhythmically. His neck bled from the bite, but he didn’t seem to notice.

I shrugged out of his jacket and stripped out of the hoodie so I could use it to press against the wound. He jerked slightly at my touch and placed a hand on my waist.

In an unexpected move, he snagged the hem of my shirt with a finger and lifted it high enough to see the slice across my stomach. I’d forgotten about that. His attention brought the pain back into focus. It hurt. He glanced at the cut and then dropped the hem, his eyes devouring me again. His hand stayed on my side, warm and comforting. He stepped close.

He still looked mad, and the lingering signs of his shift unnerved me. Yet, I kept pressure on the bite. I couldn’t afford a passed out werewolf. My hand continued to tremble, and he reached up to close his hand around mine. I wondered how much his bite hurt. Still staring at his neck, he surprised me when he leaned forward to rest his forehead against mine. My gaze flew to his, but he had closed his eyes. He breathed deeply, then released my hand. Gently, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him. His mouth brushed my hair. The hug started out light but grew tighter until I squeaked involuntarily in pain.

His arms loosened, and he pulled back enough that I could see his face. His anguish. His frustration.

“Don’t,” he started saying, but his voice broke and he had to stop. He swallowed hard and briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his look made my heart turnover. Need. Desperate need flooded the hazel beauty of the eyes I’d come to know so well.

He leaned in, lifted a hand, and slid his fingers through my hair. His gaze followed the movement which started at my temple and ended with his fingers cupping the back of my head. Despite the pains, my stomach went crazy and my settling pulse leapt. Then, he did the same with his other hand. He held me gently, studying every inch of my face. He leaned in further, moving closer until his lips hovered over mine. My heartbeat tripled its already exhaustive efforts.

“Don’t ever try to tell me goodbye again,” he warned in a thick voice. “We’re not done yet.”

He closed the minute gap separating us, crushing his lips against mine. He set fire to my thoughts and burned away all my pain with his touch. I forgot to breathe. His fingers held me still as he tilted his head and demanded more, needing the affirmation that we were both still alive. The teasing patient man was gone. With his mouth, he claimed me in a way I’d thought he hadn’t wanted, a way he’d hidden from me. I lifted my hands to his shoulders holding him in return, not wanting this to stop. I kissed him back, finally sure fate knew what the heck it was doing.

The desperation began to fade, and I felt faint when he tore his lips from mine. He didn’t relinquish his hold though. As I gasped for air, he kept my senses spinning wildly with soft kisses to my cheek. My jaw. My neck. Tingles raced over me at the first touch of his lips on my neck. His lips softened and returned to skim my own with small little kisses that started a yearning in me. A yearning I well understood from previous lives.

Too soon he pulled back, leaving me shaking, and my breaths coming out in hot little clouds. Without his attention, the cold wrapped around me, and the pain crept back in. I wrapped an arm protectively over my middle. His pupils shrank while I watched, and a twinge of regret crept in with the change.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized gruffly, looking away. I reached out a hand to comfort him and whatever he felt sorry about. None of this was his fault. The burden of guilt laid solely on me. I shouldn’t have tried walking away.

“That won’t happen again,” he spoke slowly, his jaw muscles clenching. Then he looked at me with promise burning in his eyes. “Until you’re eighteen.”

My mouth popped open, and I made a choking sound while my brain tried to come up with the words to articulate my feelings.

“And don’t ever try hurting yourself again,” he growled.

“Are you kidding me?” I half-yelled, half-gasped, completely ignoring his reprimand as the shock of finally understanding his standoffish attitude toward me wore off, and my brain started functioning again. “That’s the problem? We almost just died. We almost lost a chance for an us,” I flailed a hand back and forth between us, “and you’re worried about how old I am?”

“Bethi.”

“Don’t Bethi me,” I hissed. “First stop, I’m molesting your butt, and you’re going to like it!” We both felt the pull, we both had feelings for each other, and I suffered dream after dream because the timing wasn’t right for him? What did he think a few months would do for us?

I picked my blade up from the ground before the literal meaning of what I’d just said sank in. Luke’s smirk didn’t help cool my temper. I stomped off—as much as I could with a gigantic cut decorating my stomach and aches in places I hadn’t known I possessed—in the direction I hoped led toward his bike. I slayed small saplings and maimed trees in my wrath. He trailed behind me, wisely remaining quiet.

“How did you replace me?” I asked after I cooled down.

“Your scent.” After a moment of silence, he asked, “Why did you leave?”

I let out a slow breath. “That’s not important anymore. I won’t leave again.” Not even when he frustrated the heck out of me. Now that I knew his reasons, I’d stick to him like glue. “How long until we reach the Compound? This is only going to get worse.”

“Tomorrow.”

I glanced at him and met his troubled gaze. I reached out and clasped his hand. He let me, twining his fingers through mine.

When we reached the bike, we both stared at each other. The gore on him was too much to possibly be real. Ugh! I’d kissed that.

He studied me just as intently. Untangling his fingers from mine, he reached up to brush a hand gently along my cheek. “You’re pale,” he commented. “And you’re still bleeding. We need to get that looked at.”

I didn’t move. “Or you could just take us to a hotel, I could clean up and you could help me with some gauze and tape.” He looked like he was about to argue so I added, “We can’t afford the questions a hospital would ask.”

He reluctantly nodded and moved toward the bike.

“We can’t ride around with you looking like that,” I said, stopping him.

“What do you suggest?”

I pointed to the nearby marsh, which had a thin layer of ice over the water it offered.

His lips twitched. “You’re liking this, aren’t you?”

“I’ll get Tinker Bell ready. And you better hurry. Who knows what’s still headed in this direction.”

He snorted, but got back off the bike and pulled his shirt over his head. The muscles in his back rippled as he tossed the shirt aside. I fought not to sigh. I was liking this. Far too much.