Page 18 of Veradel
Merrick runs a hand over his hair and grimaces. “Truthfully, we just wanted to make sure you’re both okay. We saw you chasing after her in your werewolf form last night and…”
“Weren’t sure in which way you destroyed her,” Soren finishes for him, smirking and landing his eyes on me. “Well, hello, beautiful. I’m glad to see you’re not—”
He doesn’t get to finish that sentence. Lucan slams him against the wall by the top of the stairs, and the force of it breaks open the plaster from behind. I jolt upright, my eyes wide, as Lucan snarls, “Call her beautiful again.”
“Can’t,” Soren gasps, his throat pinned by Lucan’s arm. “Not when—you’re choking—me.”
“Will you two cut itout,” Vivian cries, and moves to wrench them apart. I’m not sure if she has some kind of incredible superior strength or if Lucanfinally snaps back to his senses, but he releases Soren, who hacks at the carpet, a huge grin lighting up his face.
“Oh, youarein love. This is an incredible development. Gives me even more motivation to save Xantera so that I can find my own woman…”
Merrick groans. “Soren, if you don’t want to be buried next to our ancestors, stop talking for once in your life.” He flips his gaze to me and asks softly, “Are you hungry, Saskia?”
I didn’t think I was, but my stomach growls in response. Lucan flicks guilty eyes onto me and massages his temples. “You don’t need to get out of bed, Saskia. I can bring you something.”
“No, I… I want to.” I jump to my feet, the covers falling off me, and my head swoons. I must be weaker and hungrier than I realized, but the prospect of hunting for my own food sounds both terrifying and gratifying. My whole life, someone has either delivered my meals to me through a slat in the door or, more recently, brought it to me on a tray while I lay in bed. I want to see where foodcomesfrom. How to pick it or snare it or whatever else you do to obtain it.
Lucan doesn’t protest or try to get me to change my mind, like I halfway expect. He simply scans my body with narrow eyes, as if reassuring himself that my physical state is fine, before nodding. And even though he’s not in his other form, I swear I’m getting good at reading his thoughts through the microexpressions on his face.
In this case, he’s thinking the same words from earlier:Whatever you want to do, I will oblige.
But out loud, he says, “We’re usually in our other forms when we hunt. It’s faster that way. Easier to catch our prey.”
I frown, realizing it might be impossible for me to hunt with them. I’m neither fast nor strong. Just a human with no claws or fangs. I would only hold them back.
But a ghost of a smirk crosses Lucan’s face as he steps toward me, the other three forgotten behind him as he cups one of my cheeks with his enormous hand and dips his lips to my ear.
“How would you feel,” he whispers, “about riding a werewolf?”
I was wrong, before, when I said running felt like freedom.
Thisfeels like freedom, my hands curled into the mottled brown and gold fur of Lucan’s neck, the world blurring past us as he leaps and bounds past trees like he’s cutting through butter. My thighs burn from how tightly they clamp around his torso, and my eyes sting with tears from the wind rushing past, but I keep them peeled open so I don’t miss a single thing.
Aspen trees melt into pine trees the further northwest we travel, away from the Wall of Xantera and up a mountain ridge where creeks gurgle past us, streaking my periphery with winking silver. The other three—Vivian, Merrick, and Soren—follow behind so that whenever I crane my neck to look back, I can see three pairs of amber eyes squinting up at us, wolflike monsters bounding after us.
In her werewolf form, Vivian is lean but strong, with long limbs that easily keep up with the two males beside her. Her fur is a glossy shade of brown, while Merrick’s is black, and Soren’s is a golden blonde that gleams in the stripes of sunlight flashing through the trees.
Not that I need to see them to know they’re there. Now that they’re in their werewolf forms, too, my mind suddenly bursts with their thoughts as well as Lucan’s. I’m not sure why they never seemed to be connected when I put the necklace on in Xantera, but now a telepathic connection flows between the five of us like intricate strings of a spider’s web dangling from the vial on my chest.
What are we feeling for breakfast this morning, kittens?Soren asks, even his internal voice more flippant and casual than Lucan’s deep grumble.Something cute and fluffy or large and vicious? Or something slimy, maybe?
For fuck’s sake,Lucan growls, and I feel a jolt of pleasure at how familiar the cadence of his tone sounds to my mind in the midst of all this newness.How do you make every possible food option sound completely inedible?
Are fish not slimy? Soren protests.Are bears not vicious? Are bunnies not cute?
Are you not a moron?Vivian spits back without breaking her stride behind us.Saskia, do you want to eat a moron for breakfast?
I laugh against the wind.I think I’ll pass for now.
‘For now’ being the key phrase, Soren,Lucan warns.All Saskia has to do is give me the word.
Maybe you should direct that murderous energy toward the herd of elk a few miles north of here,Merrick cuts in with a chuckle. It feels good to be back. I can smell them on the wind.
Apparently, the others can, too, because they all increase their speed, Lucan remaining in the forefront, and soon the chill of the air nips at my skin as we climb higher and higher.
Are you cold?Lucan asks me as we finally slow, the others slinking to crouches on either side of us, all of them trained on something I can’t see through the foliage.
No, I say confidently, even though it takes an effort to keep my teeth from chattering.
