took off down the mountain, wading out in the middle of the creek. It was fast running, but not deep, though the icy water made his feet numb almost immediately. He started moving downstream, knowing the boy was watching. He would travel this way only until he was out of sight, then get out of the water and double back up the mountain before getting back in again. He hoped he could confuse the trail for a few minutes anyway and buy a little more time.
He thought he might go over the mountain and find a highway, maybe hitch a ride. Kerrick would lose his trail for sure then, and once Blaine was out of the area, he could think about what to do next. The boy’s wallet was in his pants, and a quick check showed a few twenties inside. It would have to do until he could find a way to get more.
A tingling at the back of his neck started up, over the still-healing wound. Kerrick must have started after him. He moved as quickly as he could down the creek, dodging the rocks. It was slower going than he would have liked, because of the fast moving current. The last thing he needed to do was twist an ankle in the uneven footing of the stream.
By the time he’d gone far enough down the mountain to help him evade tracking, the tingling in his neck had turned to a steady ache. Blaine had never heard of anything like it before. His Grays gave a mating bite, of course, but it was largely symbolic in nature. It was just a love bite that healed over quickly and was mostly given in the throes of passion. Obviously the bite of the Dire Wolf had far greater significance and power. The farther away he moved from Kerrick, the more it ached and throbbed, reminding him of his mate.
His mind was being probed too. It was gentle and tentative at this point, but there was definitely an alien presence there. He’d felt this intrusion before, during the bonfire when Kerrick first bit him and declared him to be his mate. “From this moment on, you belong to me, mind, body and spirit. And make no mistake, you’ll be my bitch.” The words Kerrick spoke that night came back clearly to him as he climbed out of the stream and ran back up the mountain, careful to make as little noise as possible. His bitch—Kerrick had certainly made that prediction come true.
The boy was next to the fast-running stream so the noise of that should help disguise the sound of Blaine doubling back. Blaine wondered if there was any way to block the probing, and it suddenly occurred to him that he might even be projecting thoughts, like radio waves. Maybe Kerrick could pick him up no matter what he did to resist him. That was a daunting idea, and it made him quicken his pace up the mountain. He dodged back into the stream, wincing again at the coldness of the water. He traveled for a while up the stream and then climbed out again to make better time.
Trying not to think about the fact that Kerrick was closing in on him with his incredible speed, he jammed his feet in the shoes and took off at a dead run up the trail. He ran until he was panting for breath, and his lungs burned with the effort. He tried to keep his mind clear, but it was difficult. The probing continued and was becoming more and more insistent.
When he reached a small clearing near an outcrop of rock just below the mountain’s crest, he stopped for a moment to rest. He looked out over the blue vista stretching out as far as he could see, the mountains partially covered by wispy, misty white clouds, so much like smoke. This area of the Blue Ridge had been called shaconage , or “place of the blue smoke” by the Cherokee Indians long ago. These mountains were his home, and the idea of leaving them caused his eyes to fill with stinging tears. He fell down the boulder in exhaustion and let his mind drift back to thoughts of Kerrick.
“The strongest in any pack is always the alpha. You’ll be my second now—and my mate.” Kerrick’s second, his beta—was that what Kerrick would reduce him to? Funny
He thought he might go over the mountain and find a highway, maybe hitch a ride. Kerrick would lose his trail for sure then, and once Blaine was out of the area, he could think about what to do next. The boy’s wallet was in his pants, and a quick check showed a few twenties inside. It would have to do until he could find a way to get more.
A tingling at the back of his neck started up, over the still-healing wound. Kerrick must have started after him. He moved as quickly as he could down the creek, dodging the rocks. It was slower going than he would have liked, because of the fast moving current. The last thing he needed to do was twist an ankle in the uneven footing of the stream.
By the time he’d gone far enough down the mountain to help him evade tracking, the tingling in his neck had turned to a steady ache. Blaine had never heard of anything like it before. His Grays gave a mating bite, of course, but it was largely symbolic in nature. It was just a love bite that healed over quickly and was mostly given in the throes of passion. Obviously the bite of the Dire Wolf had far greater significance and power. The farther away he moved from Kerrick, the more it ached and throbbed, reminding him of his mate.
His mind was being probed too. It was gentle and tentative at this point, but there was definitely an alien presence there. He’d felt this intrusion before, during the bonfire when Kerrick first bit him and declared him to be his mate. “From this moment on, you belong to me, mind, body and spirit. And make no mistake, you’ll be my bitch.” The words Kerrick spoke that night came back clearly to him as he climbed out of the stream and ran back up the mountain, careful to make as little noise as possible. His bitch—Kerrick had certainly made that prediction come true.
The boy was next to the fast-running stream so the noise of that should help disguise the sound of Blaine doubling back. Blaine wondered if there was any way to block the probing, and it suddenly occurred to him that he might even be projecting thoughts, like radio waves. Maybe Kerrick could pick him up no matter what he did to resist him. That was a daunting idea, and it made him quicken his pace up the mountain. He dodged back into the stream, wincing again at the coldness of the water. He traveled for a while up the stream and then climbed out again to make better time.
Trying not to think about the fact that Kerrick was closing in on him with his incredible speed, he jammed his feet in the shoes and took off at a dead run up the trail. He ran until he was panting for breath, and his lungs burned with the effort. He tried to keep his mind clear, but it was difficult. The probing continued and was becoming more and more insistent.
When he reached a small clearing near an outcrop of rock just below the mountain’s crest, he stopped for a moment to rest. He looked out over the blue vista stretching out as far as he could see, the mountains partially covered by wispy, misty white clouds, so much like smoke. This area of the Blue Ridge had been called shaconage , or “place of the blue smoke” by the Cherokee Indians long ago. These mountains were his home, and the idea of leaving them caused his eyes to fill with stinging tears. He fell down the boulder in exhaustion and let his mind drift back to thoughts of Kerrick.
“The strongest in any pack is always the alpha. You’ll be my second now—and my mate.” Kerrick’s second, his beta—was that what Kerrick would reduce him to? Funny
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