Page 25 of Bitten Shifter (The Bitten Chronicles #1)
Chapter Twenty-Five
After watching Alice die in the mess hall, I abandoned my food. Hunger felt like a distant concept. Back in my room, I freak out and then spent hours poring over the books describing the changes ahead—but so much of it does not apply to me, because I’m different.
Alice’s cupcake sits innocently on the side, mocking me.
Sad, edgy, and restless, I knock on Riker’s door, but there’s no answer. Guilt prickles at me. After what happened today, should I really be wandering about without my bodyguard? Still, this is a secure base, not some unpredictable city street.
Besides, the idea of running into that kid and his cronies does not bother me anymore. I’m too numb to care. Knowing these trainees could die is entirely different from seeing it happen right in front of me.
Oh God, I’m so sorry, Alice.
In the small kitchen, I find an instant coffee stash. I make myself a cup and take it outside, the mug warm in my hands. Night has fallen.
It feels strange to be out here after dark when I’ve spent most of my life locking myself in at night. The base’s high perimeter fence, floodlights, and vigilant guards give me a sense of security, but a hum of awareness thrums beneath my skin. I’m not human anymore, and the night does not feel the same.
It’s sharper, more alive with sounds and scents I never noticed before, even with the band—leaves rustling, the faint tang of metal on the air, the whisper of distant footsteps.
I sip my coffee and set the mug on a post near the barracks, planning to grab it when I’m done. A nearby running track catches my eye, and the urge to move surges. This is exactly why I live in jogging bottoms—for spontaneous decisions like this.
I run.
The steady rhythm of my feet on the track and the cool night air calm the restlessness inside me. I hit a loping pace, fast but sustainable.
My thoughts wander, tracing everything that’s happened over the past few days. It’s almost incomprehensible. The psychologist was wrong. I haven’t truly acclimatised—I’ve just buried my feelings beneath sheer willpower. If I stop, it might all collapse. So I keep running.
I run farther than I have in years—perhaps even farther than I did in my twenties. Next time, I will bring a weighted backpack to challenge myself more.
The track loops near the fence, its imposing presence strangely comforting. Checking it satisfies an odd, itching need I didn’t realise I had.
Maybe I’m part guard dog?
The books say shifters thrive in packs, stronger together than alone. But I’ve never been a team player. I step up when necessary, yet I’ve always been content working independently. That has not changed; if anything, I feel more withdrawn—more wary.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement. At first, I assume it’s a guard. Then I hear my name, sung in a mocking tone.
“Laaaarrrrk.”
I falter, slowing to a stop. The fence’s floodlights wash everything in stark brightness, ruining my night vision. Stepping off the track, I scan the darkness, trainers crunching on the grass. My instincts scream caution.
“Hello, Lark,” a voice purrs.
A figure materialises from the shadows.
The vampire. The one from the wizard’s house.
How does he know my name?
His red eyes glow like embers, locked onto me. My breath catches, and I almost stumble, but my sharpened reflexes keep me steady. I avoid meeting his gaze, fearful he will try to trap me with it. My heart pounds, more from shock than fear.
How did he know I was here?
He inclines his head. “I would have loved to turn you, Lark. Shame the shifters got to you first. Once human, no longer human—look at you.” His slow, glacial gaze sweeps over me, lingering with deranged intensity. “What a makeover, if we ignore the black eyes and puffy nose. Still making friends, I see.”
Every hair on my body stands on end. The night is too quiet. It’s just him, me, and a thin fence humming with magic between us.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he continues, his grin stretching unnervingly wide, fangs catching the light. “Hunting you. Craving a proper taste.”
I resist the urge to step back. “Sorry,” I say, forcing my voice steady. “I’m off the menu.”
He chuckles, a low, sinister sound that makes my skin crawl. “Ah, an exclusive delicacy, then.” His tongue darts over his teeth as he steps closer to the fence.
Slowly, he raises one hand, black claws glinting in the harsh lights. As they scrape the metal, sparks erupt where the protective ward flares. Energy crackles over his pale skin, but he doesn’t so much as flinch. “The shifters do love their little protective borders, don’t they? Does it not feel like a cage, Lark? My pretty little birdie, trapped with nothing but mangy animals for company.”
The grating sound of his claws against the ward sets my teeth on edge. A distant shout slices through the silence—a triggered alarm, no doubt.
He bares his fangs in a gleaming smile. “I will be seeing you soon, little birdie.”
In an instant, he vanishes into the darkness, leaving me cold and shaken.
I barely have time to process what has happened before a pounding of feet announces the arrival of two guards and Riker. He takes one look at me, frustration and concern in his eyes.
“What are you doing out here? Did you touch the fence?” he barks.
“No.” I peer into the shadows, my heart still racing. “It was the vampire.”
He growls low in his throat. “Vampire?”
“Yeah—the one that tracked me to the wizard’s house.”
“What was he doing here?”
“Hunting,” I reply grimly. “Hunting me.”
Riker issues a sharp command. “Turn off the fence!”
Without waiting, he yanks off his clothes, tossing them carelessly onto the ground. I blink in surprise, but then something even more startling happens—he starts to shift.
I’d imagined the transformation to be subtle or quick. It’s neither. It’s loud and visceral. Bones crack, reshaping with gut-wrenching precision. Riker groans as his body swells, white fur erupting across his skin.
I stagger back, my stomach lurching at the sight. When it finishes, he is no longer Riker but a colossal polar bear. Round ears twitch, black eyes glittering in the half-light, and thick white fur covers his hulking frame. He radiates raw, primal power.
One guard nods. “Fence is down!”
Riker does not hesitate. The ground trembles under his massive paws as they dig into the dirt, and with a mighty leap, he clears the ten-foot fence. Barbs snare wisps of his fur, but he keeps moving. Nose low to the ground, he sniffs once, twice, then bolts into the night—a white blur swallowed by darkness.
I stand there for a moment, clutching his discarded clothes. “Is he going to be all right?” I whisper to the nearest guard.
The guard does not respond, his expression hard.
Another guard sneers. “Go back to your room, trainee. You will be called soon enough.”
I square my shoulders, annoyance flaring at his tone. Who the heck does he think he is talking to? But I know better than to pick a fight right now. Instead, so Riker can find them when he returns, I fold his clothes neatly on top of his boots, turn on my heel, and jog back toward the barracks.
The steady thud of my feet soothes my jangled nerves somewhat, but my mind is still in turmoil. Can one shifter—even a massive polar bear—take on a vampire? I don’t know.
Once inside, I retrieve my now-cold coffee from where I left it and rinse the cup in the kitchen sink. The mundane act grounds me, yet the worry gnaws at the edges of my thoughts.
I hope Riker will be all right.
I can’t lose another friend today.