Maeve
Hazy morning sunlight bleeds through dark storm clouds, sending ribbons of light through the fog gathering at my ankles. We’ve been walking for two miles, at least, in what direction… I don’t know, and I honestly don’t care. Soren is several yards ahead of me and hasn’t so much as looked in my direction as he leads me down a narrow, paved road in the middle of Goddess-damned nowhere. There’re no trees here. Just rolling, grassy hills and a single, lonely, fog-soaked road.
Rain begins to patter against the top of my head. It’s gentle, thank goodness, but enough to make me pull the hood of my cloak over my hair.
I keep thinking about what happened in the hotel only two or so hours ago. I rub my neck, still feeling the pressure of his teeth there, and then relive his moment of shock.
Now, I’m watching him favor his arm, the one where he used to wear the silver band. It’s bothering him–itching, I believe. He won’t leave it alone.
“Soren,” I shout, coming to a stop. My boots squeak on the damp pavement, the sound echoing to him, but he doesn’t so much as look over his shoulder.
“Yes, Maeve?”
“Did I do something wrong?”
He rolls his shoulders, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “No.”
“Then what the fuck is your problem right now?”
I start walking in his direction, and the bastard starts moving again, keeping what I assume is a calculated distance between us.
The rain begins to beat the fog into submission as the path trails down, and the valley opens up, the tree line visible only a mile or so away. The Roguelands bleed back into view, and through the hazy strips of sunlight battling the rain clouds in the distance, I see it. The border.
It’s too far away to see the start of the highway that connects Crescent Falls and Eastonia, but we’re close. Ten or fifteen miles away.
A pang of guilt and regret whispers through my chest as I stare at Soren’s back, noticing the tight muscles, the tension, and his straightened, rigid shoulders.
He’s going to take me to the border, isn’t he? I can catch a train there and ride it all the way to Moonrise with minimal stops. It’ll take over a day by train, but I’ll be home, safe, and back to my… my life.
I stop walking again. My legs just… stop working.
Soren lets out a rough sigh and finally turns around, his eyes gleaming in the filtered sunlight cutting through the drizzle.
“Did you kill someone last night?” I ask, the words wobbling off my tongue.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Why?”
“It needed to be done.”
“Is that all you’re going to say? You came into the room covered in blood and then–then we almost–”
He tucks his hands in his pockets and hangs his head. I step closer to him–two steps, exactly–to which he takes two steps away.
“What’s going on, Soren? Please–”
“I need you to stay away from me. Keep your distance, please–”
“Please, what? What the fuck–”
“I’m not feeling well,” he says with effort, his jaw clenched. “Okay? We’re about to drop into the woods. I wanted to be able to keep you in the Highlands for a few more days, but I learned the Hounds have been spotted nearby, and we couldn’t stay. They’re trailing me somehow, and I need to get you to the border as soon as possible–”
“I’m not ready to go home–”
“We can’t do this, Maeve. You have to go home. This isn’t a little vacation, or adventure, or whatever the hell–”
“I–” I suck in a breath as my chest goes rigid with the words I so desperately want to say but can’t. I just… can’t say them. I want to ask if he feels anything for me. If I’m going crazy, and these aching feelings of want are just me, and only me.
But the way he’s looking at me right now… I’ve never seen him so raw, so utterly broken. His face is cast in a shadow of his own making–shadows of regret, maybe even turmoil, as he scans my eyes and then looks down at his boots.
We’ve known each other for a little over a week at this point. That’s… nothing. Nothing at all.
But the idea of never seeing him again shatters me like glass.
I start walking, brushing past him. He walks on the opposite side of the path, keeping pace with me but also keeping his distance, for the next mile, then the next, until the road forks.
The road into the Roguelands is nothing more than a strip of gravel that bleeds into dirt, then a nearly impassable network of roping vines and rocks big enough to stop most vehicles. The remains of small villages peak through thick, dark trees, but we’re alone. Birdsong is the only sound as we follow the remains of a very old road, something I’m sure was used to connect these ghost villages during my grandfather's time here.
Soren eventually cuts off the road, following an overgrown wolf trail, murmuring something about staying out of sight, and I dutifully follow until my feet start to ache and the rain returns in earnest.
The sun slips out of sight and the already dark forest descends into shadows when we reach another dead village.
Soren hikes a bag filled with our meager belongings and supplies for this last stretch of our journey over his shoulder with a sigh as he scans the village. Several buildings still stand, forming a perfect circle.
He looks up, squinting against the rain, and purses his lips.
I stand in the weather wrapped in my cloak for several minutes while he internally debates our options. Thunder booms in the distance, drifting closer. The forest bends and groans with the storm creeping overhead, the clouds dark and angry as they funnel and roll.
“I thought it was going to be a nice summer,” Soren grumbles, swiping rain from his face, then he turns to a small stone cottage only a few feet away from us, taking one step toward it.
Just one.
The birdsong goes silent. A tingle of unease drifts up my spine, my weak power reserves simmering.
“Don’t turn around,” Soren whispers over the rain.
A chill snakes down my spine as several twigs crack nearby, behind us, around us.
“Don’t be afraid,” he says, reaching along his belt for a knife I didn’t know he had on him until now. “We’re not far from the border. If you can jump that distance, do it now.”
“I can’t–”
He turns to look at me over his shoulder, and he’s… changed. Changing. His pupils expand, turning a glassy, furious black. His canine’s sharpen, and I feel it, smell it, sense it deep in my bones.
“Your wolf is back,” I breathe as my body reacts to the knowledge.
“Run,” he says with great effort, and I do.
I whirl, sprinting between two dilapidated buildings as six wolves sprint into the village, howling and snarling. I turn back to Soren, my feet refusing to move another inch, just in time to see him burst through his clothes with a vicious scream of rage and… shift.
His eyes glow like stars in the stormy darkness, his coat a deep chestnut brown that’s thick and glossy–perfect. He’s huge. Larger than at least half of the wolves barreling in his direction.
But he’s totally, inexplicably outnumbered.
The first two wolves collide with him in a burst of fur, teeth, claws and a spray of blood. My heart quickens. I slide into the shadow of the nearest building, my lungs contracting as my meager powers sizzle to sudden life.
I could use them. I have enough–just enough to send a wave of flame through the village, but not enough to control it, wield it like a weapon. I’d hurt Soren in the process. I wouldn’t have enough power left to rein it back in.
I could jump, but how far? The ice beneath my skin is nearly gone, but the moon is not even close to being full, and my powers are taking for-fucking-ever to return.
Tears of frustration spring along my lashes as I watch Soren battle without being able to help him, but he… doesn’t seem to need my help.
I find his moves familiar. Shockingly so. He battles with practiced grace compared to the scrappy, more instinctual tactics used by his foes.
He fights like a warrior.
A trained warrior.
Like a Ghost.
My blood rushes through my veins as I straighten out of the shadow, watching Soren use skilled techniques to pin and annihilate two of the wolves at once, ripping out their spines…. Fuck.
Only someone who… trained under my father’s command…
I’m suddenly standing in the small strip of grass between the two buildings, within sight of the other wolves. I walked there without realizing it, stepping out of the cover of the shadows.
A large wolf turns his head to me, and I know those eyes. The ugly man from the train–the leader of this pack of hunters, these Hounds…
The guy who’d said he likes my long legs.
He lowers his head and gives me a wolfish smirk that makes my skin tingle with sudden fear.
I hold out my hand, begging my powers to flare. Smoke curls between my fingers, letting off a few pathetic sparks.
“Please,” I grind out, “Please, just work. For fuck’s sake, please!”
The wolf lunges, jaw wide and teeth splayed. I scream as my powers erupt in a blast of pure heat, pure fire, pure death.
But it’s not enough.
Ice rips through my body, and my powers shutter out. I fall backward as the wolf and I collide. He latches onto my cloak, leaping from me and dragging me by the garment back between the buildings while Soren continues his battle just out of sight. I kick out then dig my heels in, desperately trying to wriggle out of the cloak, but the clasp is strangling me, biting into my throat. The wolf tosses me, and I roll through the wet grass, landing on my stomach, and he’s on me again, shifting to his human form against a backdrop of thunder, lightning illuminating his old, portly body. His naked body.
“You little witch,” he grins, straddling me. His meaty hand curls around my throat and squeezes until I see stars. “I know who you are now. What a fucking treat this is going to be, having you then killing you.”
He leans down, his hot, rancid breath dusting over my cheek. “How do you like it, Princess? I can make this good for you, but I do like a little fear–”
His hand suddenly releases from my throat, and he’s just… gone. Nothing left but blank, empty space. Something heavy collides with a nearby tree, and a gurgling of bloody, wet pain mingles with another boom of thunder that shakes the ground all around me.
A wet crunch follows, and then silence creeps back into the clearing. Rain washes over me in sheets while I lay prone, too scared to move, too terrified to look to the side.
“Soren?” I gasp, realizing I’d been holding my breath.
I sit up, rolling onto my knees, and turn to the shadow hovering in the trees.
Soren, naked, his muscles tight, and covered in blood, rises with the ugly man’s head in his hand. He tosses it into the woods, panting, and slowly turns to me.
Rain washes the blood from his body while I scan him for injuries. He’s spotless. Flawless.
Totally unharmed.
My eyes widen as he turns in my direction, wearing absolutely nothing.
“Soren–”
He’s on me in a second, scooping me up, carrying me back to the village. He presses my face against his chest, shielding my eyes from the bodies he steps over–every body. Every wolf who dared attack him. Every wolf he killed.
He kicks in a door and walks inside what remains of someone’s home. It’s dark but spared from the rain. Dust covers nearly every surface, surfaces untouched for decades.
“Are you okay?” I begin as he lowers me to the ground. I turn from him to grab what I believe is a blanket draped over a wooden chair, but he catches my arm, forcing me to turn back to him.
I have a single moment to breathe, to catch my breath. A single moment to look him in the eyes and feel what he’s feeling, to know.
To know that everything I feel, he feels, too.
I drop the blanket to the ground at my feet and rise on my toes, kissing him.
Kissing him like he’s mine.