Silent Embrace

BLYTHE

“Let me protect you.”

Those words felt like sunshine, a warmth that radiated all the way down to Blythe’s core.

Protection.

Safety.

Survival. She hadn’t thought it would be possible.

And now, here was someone—a very attractive someone, her mind added—that was willing to give that to her.

But her mind interfered.

What if this is some kind of trick?

How can you trust a shifter?

He’s playing with you, Blythe.

Playing with his food.

Blythe’s breathing hitched.

No he’s not.

I’m not that stupid.

He’s sincere.

Her fear would not abate, however.

You can’t be sure of that.

He’s an animal.

They all are.

You can’t seriously be considering letting him bite you.

You’d be crazy to.

She was about to respond, her will leaning toward a yes, when she heard the very distinct sound of wood splintering, the floor creaking.

***

HAYDEN

Hayden felt a quiet rage turning in the pit of his stomach.

Insolence. He was surrounded by insolence.

And he was mateless. It was a state of being Hayden had no patience for. He had to take action. These mongrels of Killian’s had no right to the mates they’d caught. They were barely more than animals.

He loved force as much as any of them, sure, but his fellow shifters seemed to forget:

They were human, too.

And now, he was going to show them, show Killian.

He was the Alpha. He deserved to take what was his.

With a nod, he gave his co-conspirators the signal, watched as they shifted mid-drop into Killian’s campsite.

And then he moved closer to the foot of the tree, waiting for Phase Two.

KILLIAN

He had gotten so close.

Killian felt the hair rise on the back of his neck as foreign scents filled the camp.

Jaguar. Leopard.

God damn it.

Immediately, he backed away from Blythe. He felt his teeth enlarge and the bones in his fingers bend and break to make room for claws.

Sure enough, a sleek black panther and a yellow-spotted leopard were stalking toward him. Luther and Kenny, respectively.

Killian growled and let himself sink into the shift to match them with his own tiger form.

In a flash, Luther was on him, knocking Killian to his back and hissing. His claws dug into Killian’s chest, red pooling and spilling from wounds the size of dollar coins.

But the tiger took the proximity as a chance to dig his teeth into the side of Luther’s neck, pulling fur and sinew with him as he reared back.

The panther jumped off with a yelp of pain, landing on his feet to the side of Killian’s form.

Killian got his footing again then, his pulse thrumming in his ears. Take her? The both of them? No, it didn’t make any sense. Shifters were a monogamous species. When they mated, they mated for life. Unless…

No. He wouldn’t let them take her ~there,~ to that abomination.

Killian snarled.

Killian barely caught his breath before Kenny jumped him from behind, raking his claws down Killian’s back.

It was the perfect distraction. Luther took it, once again ambushing Killian from the front and enveloping him in a melee of tooth and claw.

Pain flooded Killian’s system, a roar erupting from his throat as he swiped blindly at his attackers.

With another step back, he felt a board give under the weight of his animal form, catching his foot in place. The cracked wood dug into his calf, cutting through the artery and spurting blood everywhere. Shit.

Not only was he weakened, he was stuck.

Whenever he turned his head, it felt like a set of barbs latched into him.

Panther and leopard took turns pouncing on top of him, one knocking him once again to the floor and attacking while the other did his best to keep Killian incapacitated.

He felt cold, his fur sopping wet, and Killian could tell that the blood turning him from orange to scarlet was more his own than anyone else’s.

He couldn’t believe it.

He was losing.

BLYTHE

Blood. There was blood everywhere.

It stained the floor just in front of her feet, sank into its pores like dye.

When it splashed against her shoe and up her pant leg, Blythe’s stomach lurched.

Blythe wailed. “Help! Somebody help him! We’re being attacked!”

Where was Ben?

There had to be other shifters around, members of Killian’s pack, who lived in this place. Where were they? All out in The Running?

She couldn’t watch. Instinctually, her body started stepping backwards, backwards, trying to get as far away from the carnage as she could.

She watched as the leopard’s head snapped up, its mouth and teeth covered in crimson, strings of something scarlet that she didn’t want to place hanging from its maw.

And the panther was no better, its paws and arms flailing upward every so often, looking like they’d just been soaked in vermillion paint.

For a moment, Blythe felt faint.

She continued to step back, back.

Until, suddenly, there was no wood flooring left to catch her.

Blythe gasped as her foot plunged into nothing.

Her arms flailed, catching air.

And she fell.

Down.

Down.

Branches and bark flew past her.

I’m going to die.

I’m going to die!

I’m going to hit the ground. My back will break—

But instead of landing in a final crushing blow on the ground, her breath knocked from her lungs as she landed in a pair of strong arms.

Alive.

I’m alive!

Nearly delirious from shock and relief, Blythe let her head finish swimming before looking up at the face of her savior.

His hair was golden blond and fell down to his shoulders, framing a long masculine face. The corners of his honey-colored eyes crinkled as he smiled, an expression definitely feline, but also charming.

“Well, that was a close one, wasn’t it? Are you okay?”

Blythe blinked, her mouth opening and closing like a fish as she tried to find words.

“I…” Your eloquence knows no bounds, Blythe.

But the man laughed, baritone and buttery. “Don’t worry. You had quite a fall there. You’re probably pretty shaken up, huh?”

She nodded then, relaxing a bit in his arms despite the trepidation buzzing through her system.

“Could I get your name?”

“Blythe.” She’d figured out by now that she’d be asked constantly. Might as well tell those who did for her own safety.

“It’s nice to meet you, Blythe. I’m Hayden.”

Blythe nodded, stowing the new name away.

With her mind beginning to clear, it shifted upward to the campsite above. Killian.

Was he okay? Was he even alive?

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, making her face contort into a wince. And the man holding her noticed.

“Oh, don’t worry about him. You dodged a bullet, getting away from that savage.” His face darkened as he looked upward. There was anger there, distaste, and it had Blythe squirming.

“W-what do you want?”

Hayden’s eyes snapped down to Blythe then, and immediately his features softened into another smile.

“Me? I just want to keep you safe.”

Before she could respond, she felt herself slung over his shoulder, felt Hayden shift under her just as Killian had to get her to the tree camp.

And then they were off, making Blythe free her arm from her sling and, once again, clutch to fur for dear life. The sling flew off as they raced through the trees, far away from where she had started, far away from the campsite. And Killian.

Blythe’s willpower felt nearly non-existent.

Her body ached, especially her shoulder but also her arms from clinging to galloping shifters again and again.

The longer she stayed in the arena—How long has it been by now? How many hours?—the more she felt herself resigning to a bleak fact.

Perhaps she would keep from getting killed, but the likelihood of her ever leaving the arena, leaving Lazarus, was slim to none.

Killian said he was going to let me go.

Killian is dead now, and that escape dies with him.

Then, suddenly, they were in a clearing, approaching a huge compound, paved in broken, gray cement, nearly white from sunlight bleaching it. Barbed wire encircled the roof, reflecting blindingly against the cloudless sky that covered Lazarus’ entire stretch.

“W-where are you taking me?” Blythe asked, distressed but able to keep her voice from hiking in pitch again.

They got to the base of the building, where Blythe noticed the doors were made of heavy stainless steel. No door handles, but a pair of cameras swiveled to stare down at her and Hayden as they approached.

Blythe’s skin crawled.

She knew The Running was televised, knew full well that she was being watched.

But to have the source of those eyes so close, so out in the open?

The digital gaze violated her, made her want to shrink into herself for what felt like the umpteenth time.

Hayden came to a halt and sat, an indication that she was allowed to let go, get off.

Which Blythe did, though she more or less fell on her ass beside him, her ankle sore and weak, her legs too rubbery from fear and fatigue. “What is this place?”

Another shifting of bones and Hayden was back to a human form. He held his hand out to help her up and smiled again.

But Blythe saw something in his eyes, some knowledge that gave her pause. “Oh, can’t you tell, Blythe?

“This is your new home.”