Page 30 of Captive Mate
I slumped back, breathing hard. I’d done it. I’d actually done it. I wasn’t tied to Matthew anymore, and Matthew — the realization hit hard, and I flinched. When Matthew woke up, he’d hate me. Not love me and hate me, want me and hate himself, buthate me, with no qualifications.
I had to get the fuck out of there.
Since I was going to shift, I pulled off Matthew’s clothes and dropped them on the floor. He’d probably want to burn them since I’d touched them, anyway — although what he’d do about his dick in that case was worrying. And also his fucking problem.
I stood by the window and let the shift come. It flowed through me, as naturally as breathing, from my head — now fuzzy — down to my toes — now small and clawed. The room appeared to expand around me as I shrank down, compressing into my feline body. Shades of red and pink morphed into greens, and the room was brighter, the one lamp nearly a beacon in my lynx’s sight.
The scents of sweat and sex sharpened, becoming almost unbearably thick. I wrinkled my nose and forced myself not to pad over to the bed and take a sniff of Matthew where the scent was strongest, a disgusting impulse for which I hated myself.
I took a last look at him. I’d probably never see him again, and that was for the best. At least I’d gotten my cock sucked.
Fuck.
I hopped up onto the windowsill and peered down. It was a long drop, but it wasn’t just a myth that cats always landed on their feet. It was true for me, anyway. I bunched my legs, made sure my toes had traction, and leapt down, landing with a soft but jarring thump on the grass two stories below.
There wasn’t much magic left to me, but what there was I deployed to cover my trail and make me even harder to see than I already was, slinking through the darkness.
And then I ran.
***
Leaving the Armitage territory felt momentous. It’d taken me nearly an hour to reach the boundary, since I’d had to pause a few times and wait silently for one of the pack to pass by ahead of me. There were bobcats in this part of California, although they’d often avoid a wolf pack’s land, so if they caught a faint trace of my scent it wouldn’t be too unusual.
And I didn’t smell like a shifter — I just smelled like your forest-variety bobcat. I’d made sure of it. It had led to a couple of awkward encounters with real bobcats — the female who thought I’d make a nice father for a litter of kittens stood out, though luckily I’d convinced her otherwise — but in general, it worked.
Finally I stood poised right inside the wards. I could see them, a faint glow of magic in a long, looping strand. Nate had done a good job.
I could admit that in the privacy of my own head, at least. If he asked, I’d tell him how his technique wasn’t up to par…
Not going to happen, though, because I wasn’t going to see Nate again any more than I was going to see Matthew.
My emotions weren’t quite the same as a lynx — or at least, my ability to parse them wasn’t the same. Right then, I was grateful for it. The world was simpler. Whatever complicated mess of regrets was stewing in the back of my head, it’d wait until I was on two legs again.
Speaking of which. I had to cross the boundary. It didn’t really matter if Nate felt the disturbance, although he wouldn’t; my spells hid more than my scent. I’d feel like any other wild animal trotting through the woods, unless Nate was much, much more skilled than I suspected he was. He’d get there eventually, but years with Jonathan Hawthorne would’ve stunted anyone.
I had to cross the wards. I had to leave. There was no going back now, even if I wanted to; there was nothing forcing them to keep me alive, now that Matthew wouldn’t die if I did.
I didn’t want to go back, of course. Cats didn’t cry, but my eyes stung, and I rapidly opened and shut both of my sets of eyelids.
Putting my paw over the line broke something in me, and I ran and ran and ran, trying to escape something that wasn’t going to be left behind, no matter how fast I went or how far I fled.
Hours later, it was clear that there wasn’t going to be any pursuit — or if there was, it wasn’t going to be effective. I was far enough away that if they’d come howling after me, I wouldn’t have heard it anyway.
The fresh, light scent of running water drew my attention, and I veered off course to find it. A small stream flowed through the redwoods, rushing over polished rocks and gurgling between pine-needled banks. I stopped and drank deeply, savoring the cool of it on my tongue and in my belly. My paws ached. I needed rest, but I didn’t think I was far enough away to completely relax yet. This wouldn’t be a bad place to take a breather, though.
I sat back on my haunches and worried a fragment of redwood needle out from between my toes with my teeth.
There. Much better. Now I could evaluate.
I’d headed northwest, going on instinct and not really thinking about it too hard. Now I had a choice: keep going, which would take me into the larger local town of Lancaster, or veer to the east to avoid it, circling around and continuing north once I’d cleared its outskirts. I didn’t want to go west, certainly, since that would take me straight into the Kimballs’ territory. And I definitely didn’t want to go farther east than I needed to, since that would take me toward Parker’s territory — hundreds of miles away, but still. Nevada was off-limits for me forever, and I wasn’t too upset about it, either. I mean, it wasNevada.
Lancaster. Charlie Fenwick ran Lancaster with a petite freckled fist, and it was crawling with vampires. He kept them in line and kept them off the local human population, but I’d be fair game, even if I wasn’t recognized.
And Fenwick wasn’t an ally of mine. If Nate made some of those glittery fan posters, I doubted Fenwick would want one.
On the other hand…I couldn’t run forever. I needed information, and I needed somewhere to get a few things — a lot of my magic didn’t need spell components, but anything more complicated might require a shopping trip.
A shopping trip made at night during hours when the store was closed and not involving the exchange of money, but details.
