Page 7

Chapter Seven

AUTUMN

S ilence grows between us as the wolf-man in my tub wraps a towel around his waist. He doesn’t seem modest in the least, but I haven’t been able to meet his eyes since he transformed. I’m having a mental breakdown. These are the things of lore. These are things my Mother would tell us as bedtime stories. I never believed it could be real. That’s the only reason for this insane break from reality. Wolves shifting into men in my bathroom. I’ve officially lost my mind. Laughter bubbles up in my throat.

“Oh my God, I’ve finally lost it. Colton was my last lifeline and I’ve lost him and my final grip on reality,” I mumble, leaving the bathroom for some air. This is a hallucination. When I turn back, just like when I’d lost my way in the woods, he’ll be gone.

But as I turn around, shaking my head, I’m met with glistening pecs. The half-naked wolf-man is standing before me. I tilt my head to meet his gaze. Has he been following me? Now, upon closer inspection, he looks young. If he shaved off his beard, he wouldn’t look much older than me. But his eyes, his eyes are what tell me that he’s been through more years than I would ever hope to know. They look … ancient.

Silently, we stare at each other before he reaches out his hands and cups my face between them. His hands are big and warm. Instinctively, I lean into them and he growls something low and throaty. His eyes tell me he’s trying to communicate.

“Huh?”

He growls again, this time moving his arms and lips as if that would help.

My brows furrow. “What?” Oh Gods. I’ve really lost my mind. I don’t even understand anything anymore.

He half growls, half groans in frustration, his hand sliding down his face. Growling to himself, much louder than before, he looks around, his nose pointed upward, sniffing the air. He moves past me, heading in the direction he’s not allowed as he goes to open the door to Colton’s room.

“No!” I scream, reaching for him. “That’s my brother’s room.” But it’s too late, he’s inside before I have a chance to grab him. I don’t even know what I was reaching for. He’s not exactly wearing anything I can grab, and me touching his skin might be my undoing.

He sniffs the air again, “Grrof.” He huffs.

“Grof?” I repeat, confused.

He shakes his head, and slower he repeats, “Grrof.” With his hands he mimics claws, and his mouth opens and his incisors start to extend. He looks like he’s about to transform.

“Oh, wolf?”

“Grrof.” He nods. His incisors snap back upward as he smiles.

“Wolf,” I repeat as he sniffs around Colton’s room, and some of the clothes he left laying around. I haven’t been in here since …

The naked man picks up a white shirt from the floor and turns it around toward me. The front has three long slashes down it, and the sleeve has a dark red stain. “Is that blood? Are you saying wolves hurt my brother?”

He stares at me, uncomprehending. “Grrof,” he repeats.

“Yeah, I get it … wolf. A wolf did this?” I point to the shirt. He nods again. “A wolf hurt my brother,” I whisper, grabbing the shirt from him.

When I look up again, the stranger has my brother’s sneakers in his hands … only the tops are shredded apart at the seams.

“Grrof,” he repeats again.

This makes no sense … why would someone shred his shoes from the inside out? Something catches my eye on the windowsill. I approach, picking it out of the open window. A tuft of brown hair. The same color as Colton’s hair, only thicker, shorter.

The stranger sniffs the hair between my fingers, his eyes lock with mine. “Grrof.” He holds my gaze as understanding washes over me.

“Wolf, my brother is a wolf ... like you?”

“Grrof,” he nods and takes a step back while I process. My brother was a wolf. That would explain the insatiable hunger, fits of rage, the late-night activities. He was trying to tell me. But I was so insistent on him going to college. I was so set on sticking with the plan. It turns out I didn’t know my brother at all. My knees buckle and I crumple to the floor, tears streaming down my face with Colton’s shirt, shoes, and a lock of his hair still in my hands.

The stranger watches me for a few seconds before dropping to his knees in front of me. He pulls me into his arms. I let the tears fall.

* * *

I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. The stranger’s warm, strong arms remained around me the entire time. How long have I been sitting here crying on this poor man’s shoulder? I sniffle and pull back. He slowly releases me and cups my face with his hands. His gaze is concerned as he watches me. He wipes away the last of my tears with his thumbs. This man has held me for hours (still naked), and I don’t even know his name.

I point to my chest, “I’m Autumn.” I point harder. “Autumn.”

Then I point to him, the unspoken question in my eyes.

He looks confused for a second before nodding and pointing at me. “Grtum.”

“Awe-tum,” I enunciate, opening my mouth wide for the A.

He repeats me, his growl sounding like more of a purr as he says, “Rawe-trum.”

“Close enough.” I shrug and point to his chiseled chest expectantly.

He wraps his hand over my finger. “Rrren—all.” His Rs are rolled, but I understand.

“Renall?”

He nods, releasing his hand from mine.

“Renall.” I point to him. “Autumn.” I point to me.

“Rawe-tum. Rrren-all.” he mimics.

I offer a small smile. “Yes, okay, now we are getting somewhere.” When I look up his eyes are on me, and his fingers graze my cheek. It sends a shiver down my chest, coiling low inside me.

As if sensing my reaction, his manhood stands at attention. Oh. My. Gods. “Okay,” I break eye contact for a second, my eyes dart to him … all of him. Oh Goddess. “Let’s get you some pants, Renall.”

I stand, breaking out of his touch and turn to my brother’s dresser. The thought of anyone wearing Colton’s clothes makes me sick, but what other option do I have? Nothing of mine will fit him, and I can’t seem to stop my eyes from traveling to his (very impressive) junk. Opening the dresser, on the top drawer I grab a pair of jeans, and as I pull them out, a notebook falls onto the floor. I toss the jeans at Renall and grab the notebook. I start to flip through the pages and notice that symbols and pictures are scribbled across them. The stranger approaches me now half-clothed and I shut the book from his prying eyes. Clothes are one thing; my brother’s private notebook will be for my eyes only—that is, when I finally have the mental fortitude to rifle through the pages.

Renall walks past me back into the living room; his demeanor has changed and his nose is up, sniffing the air again. With his back straightened, his shoulder muscles coil and twitch.

“Oh Gods, what now?”

He turns to me with a wild craze to his eyes, “Ro, Ro!” He’s pushing me out the front door.

“Ro? Hey, what do you–”

“Ro!” He growls angrily at me and for a second, I think he’ll throw me over his shoulder if I don’t comply.

“Go? Are you saying Go?”

“Ro!” he repeats desperately. His green eyes wild, begging me to understand.

“Go. I can’t go. This is my home.” I point to the floor.

“No.”

No? Did he just tell me no? Now that I understand. “Yes.”

“No. Rawe-tum, Ro!”

“Autumn no ro!” I clench my fists. If this wolf thinks I’ll leave my Mother’s house, he’s in for a cruel awakening.

That’s when I hear it. The sound of a vehicle’s brakes stopping for the turn down my hidden driveway. I never get visitors. Who could it … But as the words enter my brain, my sixth sense already knows. The creepy hunters from work were looking for me. Realization hits me like a wave of cold water … all the ammo they buy every week, they all have the Sureshooter 300, fully capable of blowing someone’s—or something’s—face off. I also know about the custom-made bear traps they ordered. Gods, it was them. The hunters from work did this to my brother … to Renall? And they have found me.

I tear into my room with new determination. Grabbing some clothes and tossing them into the backpack I never unpacked from camping. I toss Colton’s notebook on top of my toothbrush and deodorant, and when I look around for Renall, he’s got the screen to my bedroom window busted out and he waves for me to follow. As I’m walking toward the window, my eye catches on a shard of Mother’s china. Unable to leave a piece of her behind, I zip it into my bag.

Renall disappears out the window. I dash after him, swinging my legs over the sill, and Renall waits under it with his arms outstretched. I fall into his hard chest. I don’t miss the way my heart skips as he slides me down his body to my feet before he grabs my hand. We run past my withering garden and dash off toward the tree line at the back of the house.

I hear crunching footsteps coming from the side of the garden closest to the forest, the spot that leads in the direction of the trap Renall was caught in. Car doors open and slam shut.

“They just left!” someone calls behind us.

“The woods! They’re in the woods!” one of them screams.

I glance back once before I disappear into the trees, taking in the tiny little cabin that I grew up in. The cabin my brother and I took our first steps in, where I did my homework, where my Mother taught me to garden. Instead, I’m met with the sight of the black SUV parked on my front lawn, and men dressed in all black stomping all over my precious flowers.

With that last look, I hold back the tears. Turning around, and with renewed determination, I try to catch up with a strange wolf-man.

I’m a few inches from him when I hear snapping of branches and shuffling of leaves behind us.

“There!” a voice calls out, “Over there!”

A gun cocks. My heart pounds in my chest and my feet can’t seem to go fast enough. Renall is still in human form, and that hasn’t slowed him down as he’s fast as all hell. The tree I’m passing splinters into a million pieces, casting a cascading blast of wood all around me, that knocks me off my feet. I blink hard … dirt is the only thing I can see. My ears are ringing and I’m somewhat disoriented; my nose is also bombarded with the scent of cedar and gunpowder.

Suddenly, hands are lifting me off the ground and then Renall is tossing me over his shoulder as he continues to run. From over his shoulder, I can make out the bobbing of heads weaving through the trees behind us. I cover my own with my hands, squeezing all the gunshots and screaming from my mind. Is this how Colton felt when he was being hunted? Goddess of the Moon, Mother of all, please don’t let me die today.

* * *

Hours must have passed before coldness begins seeping into my legs and brings me back to reality. Between the monotonous up and down of his run, and my fractured mind, I must have checked out. Water is rushing and rising around me as I’m still in Renall’s arms. His face is stoic, staring ahead. I glance around, we’re in the middle of a river. Renall is wading downstream. The water is cold against my back as he begins to struggle and fight against the current and keeping me above water.

“I’m okay, I can walk now.” I swing out of his grasp.

A grunt is his only warning before he drops me down to the riverbed and Renall takes off his dripping wet jeans. I keep my eyes on my backpack as I look for a water bottle. I suppose if I were used to being naked, I would find jeans restricting too. Not that they held him back, he was running like a track star even in his human form. Taking the soaked jeans off the ground, I ring them out before shoving them into my backpack, fill the water bottle with water from the stream, and take a sip before offering him some. He breaks off some smaller reeds and covers our tracks on the riverbed. Renall surveys the quiet riverbed, sniffing in certain directions. The muscles in his neck flex with every twist. His jaw twitches before his full attention falls on me. It steals the breath from my lungs, how raw his gaze feels upon me. It sinks into my skin and sets it on fire. Renall nods. I don’t understand his words, but his eyes are asking me if I’m okay. I nod back, trying to appear reassuring, but the truth is I don’t know if I will ever be okay again.

We start off into a run again. The pace is a sprint but isn’t as fast as before.

Something tells me that he’s trying to keep pace with me because if anyone catches up with us, it’ll be me who gets killed first.