“I just know Aedar. He was my boss and told me how to work the cams and how to perform.” She spat out the last word with disgust.
“Did you?” I stepped forward. “Did you have to meet these men in person?”
She gulped.
“A-few. Most of the time, I was drugged. Sometimes I can remember a face. I was actually grateful they drugged me. I didn’t want to remember it. But I felt it afterwards.” Journey lowered her head in shame. “I’m so dirty,” she muttered.
“FUCK!” I yelled into the valley, my roar echoing back to hit me.
My urge to comfort her was powerful, but my control over my wolf was waning. The back of my shirt tore, and Journey stopped her sobbing to stare.
“A-are you okay?” She stood to come forward, but I held my hands out, shaking my head frantically.
“Sit!” I snarled, voice cracking into that of an animal. The hair on my face grew, my body trembling. I turned, running into the thick underbrush of the woods, pulling off my clothes.
“Kill.”My wolf echoed. I could no longer hold the rage back. I shifted in the underbrush beneath the pine branches.
Chapter Nineteen
Journey
InsteadofGrimembracingme after my confession, he sprinted into the woods. The area was now darker than when we arrived. Fog fell into the basin of the valley below us. The trees had grown in the darkness, and the moon in the distance climbed higher.
A chill ran through me, my hand rubbing up my arm until I felt the friction of the movement warm me.
Grim was outraged. More enraged than I had ever seen him. Not that I had been with him for long. Without his presence, the gloom surrounded me, and the darkness crept around the small clearing.
My heart yearned for something, pulled for Grim, maybe? A hollow in my chest grew bigger, the desperation to find him growing with every second.
“Grim?” I called out to the dark forest into which he fled. “Grim!” It echoed into the darkness.
My eye twitched, and an aggravated whimper left my lips.
Even if this forest was supposedly safe, I didn’t feel it at all. The plains of the grasslands were familiar to me, not the tall trees. I could see for miles out of my tiny window. I’d never been in an environment like this, alone.
The howling of a distant animal and the breaking of branches came too close for comfort. I backed away, feeling the back of my knees hit the broken bench and collapsing onto it. I should run, I should stand up and run back to the road and hope that Grim would meet me there. Or perhaps a passing car would keep me company?
I shook my head, pulling the thick leather jacket closer around me. The musk of the forest smelled far cleaner than the surrounding environment and pacified me. It was Grim’s smell bringing me what I needed.
It was the same smell that surrounded me when I was sick. It was a smell that I would embed in my memory, just like a favorite smell of a mother baking cookies for a child. It would become nostalgic as time went on.
“I’ve become a psycho, relying on my boyfriend? Is that what he is? I’m addicted to his scent? I’m losing it,” I whispered, shivering.
My heavy, labored pants were the beginning of a panic attack. I could hear my heart beating in my head.
Until warmth surrounded me. My usual breathing pattern returned when I felt the warmth in my chest grow brighter. I didn’t feel alone anymore; I didn’t feel the emptiness, and that was because there was an enormous, heated body behind my back.
Eyes widening, I turned slowly, not to spook the person or animal behind me. Why I thought about keeping my voice silenced instead of screaming for someone, anyone, was beyond me. I was petrified with fear.
As I turned, deep coppery fur filled my vision. Whatever this was, it was close. I couldn’t see the whole animal, but I could smell a musky scent that was all too familiar. My fear faded, and my curiosity climbed.
It smelled...like Grim.
Hand shaking, I reached out, petting the beast. He was everywhere, towering over me. It was far larger than I realized.
I took careful steps, drifting away and keeping my eyes on the animal in case it attacked. Not that it mattered. One swipe and I would be done for.
It was a wolf, one that could very well be the size of a large pony or a small horse. Its head was larger and thicker than any wolf I had ever seen on the plains of Kansas. I was certainly not in Kansas and was in a completely unfamiliar land, but this animal should not exist. It was too large, too wild; and the constant growl in its chest wasn’t going away.
