Page 19 of Handcuffed to the Bear

“But we have nothing to make traps with.”

“Sure we do.” He touched his forehead, and flashed her a quick smile. “The most important tool of all, remember?”

“Our brains.”

“Right.”

They came to another little waterfall. Jack stepped down first, then turned around and let her use his hand for support in stepping down.

“So what sort of traps can you set without any tools?” she asked as they settled back into their usual traveling pattern with Jack in front and Casey just behind him, holding his hand.

Jack was scanning the banks alertly; if he’d had animal ears, they would be pricked. “Oh, all kinds of things,” he said without lapsing in his vigilance. “A spear is really just a sharp stick, after all. A rock is even simpler, and it can bash in somebody’s head. All you need to make a sling is a rock and some kind of strap. You can make pit traps, deadfalls, or set up an avalanche without needing a lot of special tools.”

“Wow.” Casey looked around with new appreciation. Suddenly the world was full of weapons, just like he said. That rock there was just big enough to fit in her hand. That dead branch could be wielded like a club.

It felt eerily like a new world had opened up to her—one she wasn’t sure she liked. As a lynx, of course, she was a predator, but she’d never really ... well ...predated, at least not on anything larger than mice and squirrels. She’d lived in cities all her life, first in Portland and then in Seattle. Her usual prowling grounds in her shifted form were city parks or nearby rec areas.

But this felt like opening a door to her animal nature that she could never close.

It’s Roger Fallon who did this,she reminded herself.He’s the one who drove you to this. Everything you have to do here is simply to survive.

And what about Jack? Her gaze returned to his bare back, to the shift and flex of muscles under his scarred, tattooed skin as he navigated the rocky channel of the creek with surefooted agility.

Jack always lived in this world of danger and violence and animal instincts. He navigated it as easily as breathing.

Could she ever be fully comfortable with that?

And why did it matter?

It matters because no one has ever looked at you like he does,she told herself. Why try to hide it? She could be honest with herself, at least. In his eyes, she saw a fragile thread of hope that maybe she wouldn’t have to be quite so alone.

Despite leading a relatively isolated life, she’d never been truly lonely until the last couple of years. But now it seemed that everyone she’d loved had been systematically taken away from her. First her parents, then her grandmother, then Wendy.

For the last two years, she hadn’t dared get close to anyone at Fallon’s company, for fear of accidentally letting something slip about her self-appointed undercover mission. And she didn’t have time to make friends outside the company. She’d been completely and utterly alone, surrounded by people she didn’t dare let in.

And it had been a brutal reminder of just how alone she was outside the company, too. She had no family except for a handful of distant relatives she hardly knew. Wendy had been her only close friend. She’d had a few casual boyfriends over the years, but nothing had ever come of it; most of them weren’t shifters, so she couldn’t share the most important part of her life with them. And for the last two years, she hadn’t even had time for that.

Jack was the first person she’d felt a connection to since she lost Wendy.

And yet, she’d known him for less than a day. Could this fragile, tenuous bond survive back in civilization, when they weren’t forced to spend their every waking moment together?

She’d never even asked if he had a girlfriend.

If Wendy were here, if Wendy were still alive, she’d probably laugh her deep, throaty laugh and say,You’re getting ahead of yourself, girl. First things first. You can fret about whether the cute boy—check that: the big, dangerous, tattooed boy—likes you when you’re home and safe, and aren’t being hunted by lions.

Good advice, pseudo-Wendy, Casey thought, and she almost smiled. It was the first time she’d thought of Wendy in two years without wanting to cry.

Somehow, having Wendy’s fate confirmed, in an oblique kind of way, made the loss easier to bear. At least there was no longer the terrible uncertainty and fear that the problem was inher, that everyone else was right and Wendy had moved away without telling her. That she was only deluding herself to keep from having to admit her best friend in the world had abandoned her.

But no, she’d been right all along. It was a terrible kind of satisfaction, but it came along with a rush of bone-deep relief. She wasn’t crazy, she wasn’t deluded, she wasn’t wasting her life on a fool’s quest.

She’d told Jack the truth about her mission to bring Wendy’s killers to justice, and he’d said she was brave.

We can do this. Jack’s friends and his partner are looking for us. Fallon picked on the wrong shifter this time. All we have to do is stay ahead of them until they can get here?—

She was torn from her musing by a deep, booming roar.

It shivered the air, reverberating down the ravine. Casey had never heard a lion roar before, but she recognized it as soon as she heard it.

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