Page 4 of Witchblood

“Take it,” Liam said, jingling the bag. “If you find you need work, come back in the morning and I’ll put you on the mixer. We start at five.”

I gripped the cash to my chest and reached out for the bag. Our hands barely touched as I pulled the bag from him. It was enough. The familiar zing of werewolf coursed through me. It was a power, magic that my own recognized and rejoiced in. A sense of home that was a lie and a desire.

An addiction.

Not anymore. It wasn’t mine. It would never be mine.

The wolf said nothing. Didn’t even appear to feel the electricity from our touch, and maybe he didn’t. I took the bag and backed out; grateful, hungry, tired, and terrified all at once. All I could see were his pretty blue eyes and wonder what they looked like when they bled to yellow as his wolf surfaced right before he claimed me.

Dangerous.

Oh yes, that was so dangerous. Because werewolves mated only to human women who would never know what they were. Women rarely survived the change, and when they did they were forced to the bottoms of the pack while the men ruled. Old rules of dominant males, which was all to protect their fragile egos. Wolves lived lives of lies. I’d experienced that firsthand. And reminded myself again of the reason I was on the run as I backed out of the shop. The man looked away, focusing on someone else who needed help at the counter, but I felt his regard even as I darted out to my car and curled up inside like it could shield me from the shiver of fear coursing down my spine. What if he told someone he saw me? How long before Felix caught up?

Are you tired of running yet?

I was. But I wouldn’t stop. Months. Almost a year had passed. I’d run through huge cities to try to get lost in the crowd, and endless miles of barren terrain only for something to always catch up with me. I should have been free. I shouldn’t have still been heartbroken. He’d never promised anything. I’d known he’d marry a female again, have a family. He’d always been obsessed with family. He’d been cruel to ask me to stand by as he carried on with traditions that had nothing to do with me. He said I waswitchbornand would never understand, though I’d been raised in the pack as one of them. He’d expected me to still be his lover. That alone told me he didn’t know me at all.

I yanked the seatbelt into place. The car started, running on determination, and a bit of magic. My heart hurt at the thought of leaving, though I didn’t know why. I backed out of the lot as hot tears filled my eyes. A lifetime as pack had not prepared me to live alone. Not emotionally. I could hunt and adapt with the best of the werewolves, but they were pack creatures, and my adoptive father had raised me to be the same. Unfair of him.

Come home.

But I wouldn’t. They didn’t want me there anyway. They looked at me and thoughtsmallandweakuntil I shoved their faces into the dirt. For years I’d fought my way to independence as anyone who thought I wasn’t pack challenged me. Only to bask in Felix’s protection for a while and lose it all. Stupid. I’d been so stupid.

I pointed the car back out onto the highway. Running. Always running. From what, I wasn’t really sure I knew anymore. Myself maybe. Not that it mattered so long as I kept moving.

Chapter 2

It was, of course, my luck that the car would die in the middle of nowhere. I’d gotten about an hour outside the small town I’d last stopped in when the Beetle just puttered to a halt. There should have been gas in it, the gauge said it was at a quarter. Nothing else had seemed off.

Like most people, I opened the hood to look at the engine, but while I knew a little about cars, I couldn’t even fathom where to begin. Listing off parts did not mean I knew how to fix something that was broken. Or even recognize what to fix. Usually my small bit of magic was enough to help. Something that shouldn’t have been possible to most magic beings as they didn’t like the products of humans. Iron and steel were not good conduits of magic for most. For me the object didn’t matter much at all. I could just make things work. Most of the time. The Beetle, however, was not going anywhere.

I sighed, grabbed up the food I’d been carefully avoiding, and my things. Staying with the car would probably bring help eventually, or my adoptive father to scold me for running, and my Ex to drag me back.

Since I didn’t want the latter, I planned to hike into the forest to find a place to bed down for a few hours. Food and rest, then I’d attempt to hitchhike. Made it halfway across the country that way. Being small helped. People didn’t see me as a threat, even though I was male. With my long brown-auburn hair pulled up into a ponytail or a bun, tilted eyes, and willow-thin body, it made people think I was female at first. A tiny push of magic would make someone stop if they slowed. It was an innocuous spell. No real power to it, just a hint of suggestion like “help this one.”

Tattoos wrapped my left arm in spells. Mostly protection, basic wards, and do-me-no-harm spells. Years of alchemy training and meditation with my adoptive father’s local witch had taught me a few things. Mostly that I wasn’t powerful enough to ever be a pack witch. Not that it had ever been a goal. Covering up the secrets of their existence, healing their wounded, and hiding their dead, had never appealed to me. I was better at mixing potions or adding a zip of magic to something baked than casting spells. For a while that had been enough.

As soon as I found a safe place and a good tattoo artist I had a few new spells to add. The last few weeks had been brutal, and I’d been unable to convince my brain that stopping for a minute wouldn’t mean instant death.

I shook off the melancholy, needing food and sleep more than self-loathing. My stomach growled at me in frustration. The smell had been killing me. Each ingredient a mix of heaven in my nose. Werewolf attuned senses from a lifetime of living among them. I could smell the flour, yeast, eggs, and sugar, and practically salivated as I hauled the bag up with the rest of my things and made my way into the trees.

The car died far enough off the road, around a bend, that I didn’t think many would see it. Plus it was that gross sort of olive green that could blend in with dry greens and knee-high weeds. I’d bought the car after working for a month in some mid-western town. It made a good place to sleep when it rained, but that’s about all. Still, I’d miss it a little as it had become home in a small way.

IfApareally wanted me home, the car wouldn’t stop a werewolf attack. It wouldn’t even keep them from tracking me for long. But there would be nothing to stop him if he truly wanted me home. I suspected the only reason he hadn’t come for me yet was because he understood how hurt I’d been.

Betrayed. Abandoned.

And dragging me back before his own pack was under control would just drive a deeper dagger into the chaos that was tearing them up. Without me around to stir up trouble, he would fix things, placate the old ones, and settle the new wolves. I’d done him a favor by running. In time he’d see it that way.

I walked through more wide, over-grown fields and minor hills than forest. There were trees, even some small copes of them, but nothing that would make me think this was wild, untamed land. Likely it was the edges of some farmer’s property, too rocky to plant, or something. There was no sound of cars, people, or movement other than the occasional bird. I knew Washington had desert, had driven by quite a bit of it. This was sort of a mix between a desert and prairie land. Likely the soil was too filled with clay to plant. It wouldn’t offer a lot of cover, but enough should anyone come searching.

I scented rabbits, a few deer, a coyote or two, no wolves, were or otherwise. Finding a small grouping of trees, I set up my tiny camp, the sleeping bag, the food, and a handful of minor wards to alert me if someone came my way. Only after that was done did I sit down and open the box of pastries. It smelled like heaven. I don’t think I even tasted the first one. Just devoured it like the starving man I was.

The second, I ate slower, chewing and savoring the honey sweetened flavor of a tart of some kind. I ate two more, glutting myself before putting them aside and curling up in the sleeping bag. It didn’t matter that the sun still shone somewhere above the trees. It was safer to sleep during the day and move at night. There were things that preferred the darkness, but as long as I kept going I’d be fine. In a few hours I’d go back and look at the car. Maybe with some rest and a clearer head, I could get it moving again. The manager from the bakery filled my mind as I began to nod off to sleep. His pretty eyes shining in the darkness. I could almost feel his lips on mine as though we’d met before. Though I was sure I’d have remembered that. He was a pleasant dream, and for now that was okay.

* * *

Burning heat seared through my left arm waking me out of a light sleep. I didn’t move, listening instead to the approaching night and trying to identify the burn. The wards hadn’t been triggered yet, but the magic scrawled into my flesh told me something was close and it meant me harm. The surrounding night sat in an unnatural stillness.