Page 13

Chapter

Twelve

T he copper-tang smell of blood hit Mia's nostrils before she saw the deer.

Fresh kill, still warm, the metallic scent making her wolf pace restlessly.

But it was Jim's sudden stillness beside her that made her heart skip—the way his entire body went rigid, nostrils flaring as he processed something she couldn't yet identify.

"Don't like this," he murmured, low enough only she could hear. His hand brushed hers—accidental or intentional, she couldn't tell—sending electricity shooting up her arm.

The deer lay at the exact point where her territory bordered the disputed western lands. Not a natural predator kill—no feeding marks, no struggle signs. Just a clean slash across the throat and an arrangement that screamed message.

"This wasn't random," Mia said, crouching beside the carcass. Morning dew soaked through the knees of her jeans, cold and grounding. She felt rather than saw Jim move closer, his body heat warming her back as he positioned himself protectively behind her.

"Someone's sending a warning," she continued, hyperaware of his presence, the way his breathing had synced with hers.

Gerald nodded grimly. "First the disturbances at the northeast section, now this."

Behind them, the other candidates waited. Matthews stood with perfect posture, his calculating gaze moving between her and Jim with an expression that made her wolf bare its teeth. Reyes looked tense but determined, carefully not looking at how close Jim stood to her.

Mia straightened, and Jim's hand ghosted over her lower back—steadying, claiming, there and gone before anyone else could notice. Except Matthews noticed. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

"We need full perimeter coverage," Mia announced, trying to ignore how her skin still tingled where Jim had touched. "Matthews, take the northern boundary. Reyes, eastern section."

"And Miracles?" Matthews asked, silk over steel. "Surely our... unconventional contestant deserves a section as well?"

"Jim patrols with me," Mia stated, meeting Matthews' challenging stare. "Southern boundary."

Matthews' smile was knowing, predatory. "Of course. Personal supervision for the turned wolf. Very... hands-on leadership."

Jim tensed, and Mia felt it—the surge of possessive anger, quickly controlled. His scent spiked with something dark and dangerous that made her wolf purr with approval.

"Move out," she ordered. "Check in every thirty minutes."

The groups dispersed, but Jim remained still, a muscle in his jaw ticking. His gaze fixed on empty space twenty yards away, pupils dilating and contracting rhythmically.

"Jim?" Mia stepped closer, her hand finding his arm. His skin burned fever-hot through his shirt. "What's wrong?"

"It's starting." His voice came out rough, strained. A bead of sweat tracked down his temple despite the cool morning. "Time slip. Can feel it pulling."

Her fingers tightened on his arm. "Now? Can you stop it?"

"Not stop. Maybe... delay." He finally looked at her, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes made her breath catch. "If I shift, it gets worse. Need somewhere hidden."

Without thinking, Mia grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Come with me. I know a place."

She pulled him south, away from prying eyes. Jim's hand clutched hers like a lifeline, his palm burning against hers. She could feel his tremors, the way his step sometimes faltered as if reality was becoming negotiable beneath his feet.

"Mia," he breathed, and her name on his lips sounded like both prayer and apology. "You don't have to?—"

"Shut up," she said fiercely, squeezing his hand harder. "I'm not leaving you to face this alone. Not again."

They pushed through dense pines, the sharp scent of resin overwhelming everything else. Perfect cover. When the small clearing appeared—her teenage sanctuary nestled between ancient rocks—she heard Jim's sharp intake of breath.

"Here," she said, reluctantly releasing his hand. "We're hidden."

Jim staggered to the center, whole body trembling now. The air around him rippled like disturbed water. "You should... step back. Don't know what happens if you're too close when?—"

"I'm not going anywhere." She planted herself at the clearing's edge, close enough to reach him if needed. "I left you alone for a year. Never again."

"Mia—" Her name broke on his lips as his form blurred. For three heartbeats, she saw multiple Jims—past, present, future, all superimposed in a dizzying display.

Then nothing. Empty space where he'd been.

The absence hit her like a physical blow. Her wolf howled internally, clawing at her control, demanding she find him, bring him back, protect what was theirs.

"Come back," she whispered to the empty clearing. "Come back to me."

One minute. Two. Her nails dug crescents into her palms, counting heartbeats, fighting the urge to scream his name.

The air shimmered. Reality folded. Jim stumbled forward, gasping, catching himself on hands and knees in the soft moss.

"Jim!" She was moving before conscious thought, dropping beside him, hands running over his shoulders, his face, checking for injury.

He looked up, and the relief in his eyes nearly undid her. "Mia. Thank god." His hand caught hers, pressing her palm against his cheek. "Wasn't sure I'd find my way back to the right when."

"Where did you go?" Her thumb traced his cheekbone, feeling the slight scratch that hadn't been there before, the warmth of skin that had seen different suns.

"Three months ahead. Summer." He turned his face into her touch, eyes closing. "Saw things. Bad things. But also..." His eyes opened, locking with hers. "Also saw that you're okay. We're okay. That has to mean something, right?"

"Jim—"

"I was trying to get back to you," he said suddenly, urgently. "The whole year I was gone. Every slip, every jump, I was trying to get back to you. But time... time doesn't like to be cheated. It kept throwing me elsewhere, elsewhen."

The confession broke something in her. She framed his face with both hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. "You're here now. That's what matters."

"Is it enough?" The question came out raw, vulnerable. "After everything, am I?—"

She kissed him. Not gentle, not careful—a claiming kiss that swallowed his words and replaced them with certainty. He made a sound against her mouth, desperate and grateful, his arms coming around her to pull her closer.

When they broke apart, breathing hard, she rested her forehead against his. "You're enough," she whispered. "You've always been enough."

A distant howl shattered the moment—Tanner's alert call from the eastern section.

Jim's head snapped up, eyes widening with recognition. "Tanner. Black markings on his muzzle?"

"Yes, how did you?—"

But Jim was already moving, pulling her to her feet. "He's going to fall! Ravine edge! I saw it in the slip!"

They ran together, Jim leading with impossible certainty. Mia followed without question, their bodies moving in perfect sync through the forest. Jim's hand caught hers at difficult passages, steadying, guiding, never letting go until they had to separate around obstacles.

The ravine came into view. Tanner stood at the edge, focused on something below.

"Tanner!" Jim shouted. "Back away from the edge! Now!"

The ground crumbled. Jim dove forward, tackling Tanner backward as the edge collapsed in a cascade of dirt and stone.

Mia reached them as they hit the ground hard, her hands immediately going to Jim—checking for injuries, unable to stop touching him. "Are you hurt?"

"Fine," he gasped, but she felt him lean into her touch. "Tanner?"

The young wolf shifted to human form, shaking. "The ground just... gave way."

"Trap," Jim said grimly. His hand found Mia's, squeezing once before releasing. Professional in front of the pack, but she felt the reassurance in that brief touch.

"How did you know?" Matthews' voice came from behind them, cold and suspicious.

Jim shrugged, but Mia saw the tension in his shoulders, felt her wolf's protective instincts surge. She stepped closer to Jim, their arms brushing—united front against Matthews' implications.

"Lucky timing," Jim said.

"Indeed." Matthews' gaze flicked between them, noting their proximity. "Almost prescient."

"What matters," Mia cut in, "is that someone sabotaged our territory." She kept her position beside Jim, their body heat mingling. "Professional work."

"One wonders," Matthews mused, "who has both motive and expertise."

The threat in his tone made Mia's wolf snarl. Jim must have sensed it because his hand brushed her back—calming, grounding.

"We should finish the patrol," Reyes suggested uncomfortably.

"Jim, take Tanner back," Mia ordered. When Jim turned to look at her, she saw the protest in his eyes. "I'll be fine," she said softly, just for him.

His jaw clenched, but he nodded. As he helped Tanner up, his fingers trailed across her wrist—a promise to continue their conversation later.

Mia joined Matthews for the northern patrol, hyperaware of Jim's scent fading as distance grew between them. Matthews walked beside her, too close, his presence oppressive where Jim's had been comforting.

"You've grown quite... attached to Mr. Miracles," Matthews observed.

"He's proven himself valuable to the pack."

"Has he?" Matthews paused by a twisted oak, fingers finding purple flowers at its base—temporal blooms that only grew where time had been disturbed. His smile was sharp as he plucked one. "These are fascinating flowers. They only grow in places where reality has been... shall we say, flexible?"

Ice flooded Mia's veins. He knew. Somehow, he knew about Jim's time slips.

Her phone shrilled. Bertram's name on the screen.

"Vampires," he said without preamble. "They've attacked Jasmine's vineyard. You need to get here now."

"On my way." She was already running, Matthews forgotten.

Footsteps pounded behind her—Jim's distinctive gait catching up within seconds. He must have heard her howl of alarm.

"How bad?" he asked, matching her pace perfectly.

"Don't know." Fear made her voice tight.

Without discussion, their hands found each other as they ran, fingers interlacing. Whatever waited at the vineyard, they'd face it together.

"I won't let anything happen to her," Jim promised, reading her fear.

"We won't," she corrected, squeezing his hand.

They pushed harder, supernatural speed turning the forest to a blur. Behind them, she heard others following, but all that mattered was the warmth of Jim's hand in hers and the desperate hope that they wouldn't be too late.

Not this time. Not for family.