He was lying. The bastard wanted to protect her. He was crazy. She was crazy.
“Why is this happening? What do they want?”
He was quiet a long moment. She could see he battled himself, striving to contain something, some secret. Curiosity burned in her, stronger than her desire to flee.
He grabbed her chin, forced her to look straight into his eyes so that she couldn’t escape what he was going to tell her. She flinched at his hard grip. His eyes softened and he eased his hold.
“You’re Lycan, as I am....” He drew in a hard breath, continuing on before she could respond, “Werewolves, Jessica. I didn’ want to tell you before. I knew your father.”
She slapped his hand away, feeling sudden, immense betrayal. “What? Stop lying to me!” She wanted to scream, kick something, rip something--anything to shreds to satisfy the hurt searing her mind.
He grabbed her, halted the violence shimmering inside as he hugged her fiercely. He forced her to feel the comfort of his body. He laid kisses against the top of her head, moved through the tangle of her hair to her ear, speaking in a soft, strained voice. “It
’s no’ lies. He didn’ want dis life for you. Your mother died in the birthin’. He sent you away in secret that night, to keep you from changin’, to keep you from bein’ our whore. The pack found out, imprisoned him. He killed himself to protect you, so no Lycan cou’ ever find you.”
Gabriel shuddered against her once the words had spilled out. He breathed brokenly behind her ear, ragged against her neck--her pain his own.
Anguish, raw and severe, grated her mind. She closed her eyes, swallowing past the lump in her throat. Suicide...? It couldn’t be true. None of this could be true. Gabriel couldn’t be much older than she was, maybe thirtyish, he couldn’t possibly have known her father. It wasn’t possible. He was insane ... or a liar ... or both.
“I don’t believe you,” she whispered, pushing away from him, missing the heat of his arms already. She was weak, too needy, too vulnerable to him. She didn’t want to believe him, couldn’t. It was too hard to stretch her imagination so far, no matter how much her conscience told her he spoke the truth.
The look he bestowed on her was hurt, radiating regret. The anger had seeped from him, leaving the haunted man she’d seen briefly before. Guilt assailed her, twisting in her gut. She felt as though she’d plunged a knife into him, as though it wasn’t she who’d been delivered devastating news, but a reversal. What fate had conspired in her life to deliver such agony, such fierce desires and aching loss?
“Believe wha’ you will,” he said softly, painfully. “D’ truth will come, soon enough.
Now you mus’ go.”
Gabriel turned his back on her, striding from the tent. She knew he was going to his death, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
Chapter Eight
The ground was littered with death traps and mutilators; roots, rocks, prickly pears, and other objects and obstructions she couldn’t place with her limited senses in her nearly blind state. The moon had already begun it’s descent, glowing gold above the treetops, filtering through the canopy like scattered rain. Her feet and legs bled from her headlong rush, but she ignored the pain, running through the woods at an insane pace, praying she wouldn’t fall and break something.
She had to get help. They were going to kill Gabriel, possibly even come after her.
But that didn’t matter nearly so much as what she imagined him to be going through, what tortures they’d devised. Thinking about it quickened her pace, stole the breath from her lungs, made her heart gallop in her chest. She knew for certain now that they were some kind of cult, and being in the middle of nowhere, there was nothing to stop them from doing exactly what they wanted to to Gabriel.
Jessica realized it didn’t matter what Gabriel or she believed, the danger was still real. He could be saved from their brain washing, but only if she could get to the police in time. She bit back the exhausted sobs, trying to stay focused, calm.
Hysteria loomed under the surface, threatening to consume at any unguarded moment.
The moon guided her, dipping in the sky, foretelling the late hour. It had to be after midnight, probably later. The streets would be dead in town. She kept the moon’s position fixed and headed east, always glancing past the tree tops to make sure she hadn’t strayed off course. She didn’t dare try to find the road and follow it, even if it would speed her progress. They could be looking for her, even now. The road would be a death trap.
The wind picked up, rustling through the trees with a whistling rush. Branches rattled above her, shaking dried leaves to flutter to the ground. Her hair twisted and writhed in the breeze like a live thing, flying into her face and mouth until she was blinded completely by the thrashing tendrils.
A howl rippled through the night like the toll of a death knell, spelling her doom. The wail rose again, undulating on the air like some foul caress, followed by an excited call--words indistinguishable but instantly recognizable for what they were.
Fright froze her to the spot, clenched her heart in a painful, breath stealing grip. Ice flooded her veins, swallowing her, replacing calm with instant, dread panic.
Jesus! Oh god, oh god, oh god.... They were after her. The howls, the howls were coming closer, everywhere, all around. She shook her head, covering her ears, trying to block the noise, fighting down the mind numbing panic. But muffling their calls only worsened her fear. She dropped her arms, cocking her head, trying to gain their position, heard them above her.
Something fluttered in the treetops, briefly blocked her view of the stars. It had to be a bird, an owl, something--anything else. She was going crazy, it wasn’t possible.
Men couldn’t fly, the woods were distorting the sound.
They had to be behind her.
Jessica tore off in a run, ignoring the stitch in her side, the stinging, tearing brambles, the grate of bark on her skin as she ran into trunks and pressed on. Her lungs froze with the crisp air. Her throat felt raw from dragging each breath in, fighting blackness that swam in and out of her vision, threatening unconsciousness.
Wind roared around her, whipping her hair and dress into a frenzy, forcing debris into her eyes. She shielded her face, kept running, tried to listen past the thundering in her ears, but the forest had grown deathly silent, giving no warning.
She ran into a trunk, bouncing off it onto the ground. The breath knocked from her lungs at the impact, forcing her to drag in shaky lungfuls of air. Her body felt bruised, battered beyond belief. She blinked the dirt out of her eyes, laughing hysterically at herself, forcing the macabre giggles back.
It was then that she saw the legs.
She was surrounded. The hysterical laughter died in an instant, replaced with quiet wariness. She cringed at her weakness, despising herself, despising that she hadn’t run fast enough, that she had no way to protect herself. She was so weary of being hunted, almost to the point where she sadistically willed them to end her constant, excruciating anxiety.
There were three of them, possibly more that she couldn’t see. Their faces and arms were white, almost glowing and paler than her own skin, seeming disembodied with the darkness and their black attire.
One of them broke off from the trio, approaching her and reaching for her face.
Jessica hesitated on taking off his fingers with her teeth, waiting to see if by chance she’d merely over-reacted in her panic. She raised her eyes and looked at him unflinchingly as he gently brushed the hair from the tangle of her lashes.
“This is no Lycan,” he said, turning to the others with his hand lingering in her hair.