Page 2 of Mated
Flat, solid ground. No slope.
Tears spring to my eyes in relief. “Oh god.” I laugh, the sound too high, too edged. “I’m okay. I’m really okay.”
I mentally evaluate the aches and pains, running them against my first responder knowledge.
Bumps, bruises, scrapes. My arms and legs bend and relax without problem, even if they are a little stiff. No breaks. Or none that are identifiable without standing.
I roll slowly onto my side as the world continues to sway on its axis. My eyes cast over the basin where I lay. Maybe fifty feet out, my big cool down rocks waits, taunting me. I flip it off and climb slowly to all fours.
It’s hard standing, but I manage.
There’s a tightness to my right ankle that I don’t like. Not quite a sprain, but like it could be if I’m not careful.
“Jesus, you’re fucking lucky, Nisha,” I scold myself. “You just have to run out here. You just have to.” I brush off my clothes and scour the leaves for my lost earbuds.
An audible snap sounds behind me and I whirl. My ankle groans in protest, leaving me hobbling.
“Hello?” I call softly. “Is someone there?”
The woods fall quiet again. Too quiet.
It’s the unearthly silence of no woodland creatures. No birds, no squirrels. The silence when a predator is in their midst.
An instinct ingrained since the dawn of man has me backing up. My eyes scan the dimness, searching the shadows beneath the thick canopy above.
Glowing gold eyes stare back.
I retreat another step as my heart slams in my chest. “Hello.” My voice is breathy. “You must be part of the local pack.”
No reaction.
I gulp.
“I fell—from the path up there.” I motion carefully back up the slope. “I didn’t mean to come into pack territory. If I need to speak to your alpha, I would be more than willing … you know … to explain why I’m here.”
A low rumble spills out from around those vibrant yellow eyes.
My hands raise slowly. “Or I can just go,” Another step back, “if you prefer…”
The bushes rustle and the first trace of tan and gold fur grows visible under the fat moon. My pulse pounds in my veins.
That low rumble spills again from a dark maw of bright white teeth. The cat is huge, well over six-feet and patched in sleek rosettes. It steps from the brush, and I stop breathing.
My mouth goes dry as its heavy paws silently slap the earth, bringing it ever closer.
Shifters are not as closed off about their second forms as they used to be, but having one so close, so visible … So out in the damn open … I glance upward at the glowing beacon in the otherwise dark sky. My heart skips a beat and I kick myself for not tracking the days.
The damn full moon.
Shit.
“It’s the week of the full moon. Right, of course it is. So, you guys are hunting probably?”
The cat snarls, flashing those deadly fangs.
Icy terror filters through me. “Please. I don’t want any trouble. I know the trail is Silver Rock land. And I won’t run here anymore. Just—please,let me go.”
All that brown fur bristles and the beast lowers on its haunches.
