Page 37 of The Naughty Or Nice Clause

“Jones?” she repeated softly, crouching to look inside, where she saw the glint of his eyes. Her breath heaved in relief as she reached into the trunk and gently pulled him free.

“Why did you run off?” she asked, kissing his damp, furry head. He was shaking; she tucked him inside her jacket.

When she straightened up, fear streaked down her spine. She had no idea which way she had come, and it was growing darker. Stooping down, she followed her footprints. Thanks to the dense trees, the accumulation of snow had slowed.

“You had to pick today of all days to run away,” Lyla said through chattering teeth, grateful for the heat the cat was providing. She stilled, trying to figure out which direction to go. She’d been too focused on his paw prints to notice anything like markings on trees. Taking a deep, painfully cold breath, she chose a path when she felt eyes on her.

“Mason? Kevin?” she called, praying they had come after her.Kevin saw me run off and went to get Mason. As angry as he is at me, he won’t let me freeze to death.She took a few steps towards the sound… and found sets of luminous blue eyes staring back at her.

“Wolves. Fucking wolves,” she muttered, the cold freezing her breath. She backed up slowly, but the growls echoed from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, greeted by two more sets of eyes. “Can my day getanyworse?”

“Lyla! Lyla, call out if you can hear me!”

Her eyes snapped to the trees; she couldn’t see anyone, but that was Mason in the near distance. She opened her mouth, but she was too paralysed to cry out. The wolves crept forward, teeth bared, and she was sure one word from her would bait the animals to attack. Seeing them clearly, she didn’t think wolves should be so large, their fur so white it almost hid them against the snow.

Jones tried to paw at her chest, sensing the danger, but she held him tight, not caring if she hurt him. If he ran, he would trigger an attack. The wolves formed a semi-circle, forcing her back; she attempted to put some distance between herself and the snarling beasts. Instead, she tripped over a log concealed by the snow.

She grunted loudly as her back hit the log and she landed in the snow. When she gathered her senses, a wolf stood on the log, peering down at her, saliva dripping from its jaws. Lyla closed her eyes, bracing herself for the attack – and a light flashed before her.

Flaming torch in hand, Mason knocked the wolf from the log. There was a yelp of pain, and the other wolves backed away from the flames.

“Get up!” Mason ordered, pulling her to her feet with his free hand. “We need to run. Follow the treeline behind you– keep straight and you’ll come to a path.” He spoke so quickly, she struggled to keep up. The wolves snarled and snapped, concealing themselves among the underbrush now that there was more than one human to take down. When Lyla didn’t respond, Mason shoved her in the opposite direction of where he had come from.

“We can’t outrun wolves,” she argued, shivering. “Have you seen the size of them?” Her feet sank deeper into the snow the longer they waited. Her hands numbed by the cold, she didn’t think she had the strength to fight if they attacked.

“Run or be their dinner. You passed the border. They know you’re an outsider because your blood doesn’t smell the same as ours,” Mason snapped.

Dread overwhelmed her. “I’m not going to leave you here with them!”

“They won’t attack me. Go before the fire goes out!” he shouted, gripping her collar and then shoving her again, causing her to stumble.

Another set of eyes appeared in the darkness, and his dimming torch was all the persuasion she needed. Lyla ran – if it could even be called running through the ankle-deep snow. Clutching Jones made it even harder to keep her balance. She kept glancing over her shoulder, waiting for Mason to follow. Finally she saw him keeping pace not far behind her and could only pray the wolves wouldn’t attack him in order to get to her.

The uphill climb levelled out, and she emerged from the trees onto a path. She braced her hands on her knees, the taste of blood wet in her mouth.I really need to exercise more.

“Don’t stop – not until you’re on the other side of the gate!” Mason shouted, approaching the treeline.

What gate!?Lyla thought, but as she looked up at the end of the path she saw it. Running came easier on the cleared path, but with numb fingers, she struggled with the rope tying the gate closed. She pulled as hard as she could at the knot, catching her breath as it unravelled. It finally opened as Mason reached her side. She was so focused on getting the gate open, she hadn’t noticed the wolves close behind him.

Mason stopped to light the torches on either side of the gate; a wolf dived for him, and she was too slow to warn him. Her shout strangled in her throat as the beast’s jaws clamped down on his arm. Mason cried out.

Before she could think about it, Lyla snatched the torch from the other side of the gate and cracked it over the head of the wolf. Loosening its jaw, the wolf dropped to the ground. Its packmates gathered around the fallen creature while Lyla dragged Mason to the other side of the gate and closed it.

“You’re bleeding,” she panted, though he probably already knew that.

“I’m fine, just a bite,” Mason grunted, and they both turned to look at the wolves, who had suddenly remembered their prey. Lyla waited for them to jump the gate, but they stopped prowling forward when the torches flared brighter.

“Don’t worry. They can’t get past the gate – the fire will keep them back,” Mason said. The relief nearly took her legs out from beneath her, though it sounded like he was in more pain than he wanted her to know.

“Are you sure?” she asked, kissing Jones’s head as he popped up from inside her jacket. The wolves pacing in front of the gate did nothing to ease her fear.

“Let’s get inside. There’s meant to be a storm tonight, and once we’re out of sight they’ll give up the hunt,” he told her. She was surprised when he took her hand and led her up the path to a log cabin. “My dad used to take us here to fish on the lake. No one’s been here for a while.” He lit the two torches outside the door.

“How are we going to get in?” she asked. Panicked, she noticed the blood dripping from his hand onto the snow.

“Got it covered.” He winked, lifting a plant pot where a key sat.

How can he be so calm when he’s bleeding and we just escaped death?She couldn’t stop herself from shaking as he opened the door and ushered her inside.

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