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God dammit.This wasnothow he wanted to spend his first day, and,god dammit, he really didn’t want to return to Della with bloodied and bruised knuckles like a brawling barbarian. But it was either give in and put the settlement at risk or force the issue with his fists.

He’d let Silas have his little nap, and then they were finishing this shit, dark or no dark.

Too agitated to just wait and stare daggers into his companion’s skull, Cal stomped off the path and deeper into the woods. A hike might work off some of this aggravation.

A short distance from the hot springs, the scent of fresh water laced the air. He followed his nose to a creek bed carved between the rock and then picked along the widening stream. The water suggested a natural boundary to the Pack’s land, but without Silas’s confirmation, he couldn’t be sure. He walked on, letting the woods soothe him. It hummed with a vibrant, peaceful rhythm all its own. Bird calls, some he recognized and many he didn’t, drifted on the breeze. Scents of animals—squirrels, foxes, deer—brushed over his nose, but none hinted of any human presence other than his own.

After filling his canteen, a full bladder sent him deeper into the trees, seeking a spot to relieve himself when his boot tip nicked something hard and rattling. He knelt and pushed aside the vined ground cover to unveil a rusted steel-jaw animal trap. A horrified shudder walked down his spine at the sight, which only worsened when he noticed the bone shards pinned between the hideous teeth. The trap had been triggered shut, and by the looks of it, something small like a fox had been its unlucky victim. The fur had long since blown away or decomposed, but chillingly, no further remains of the animal’s skeleton rested beside the device: only a shard of leg bone, half in and half out of the grisly metal jaw.

The poor little thing gnawed its leg off.

His heart sunk at the deduction. If the animal had been retrieved by whatever human set the trap, the hunter would’ve collected their trap to reuse it. The fact that it had been left implied it had been entirely forgotten by whoever set it. Not that it saved the poor bugger who unluckily stumbled into it.

No stranger to hunting and trapping, Cal understood the need if one wasn’t able to raise animals for food. But to force an animal to self-amputate in a final, desperate attempt at freedom struck him as an unnecessarily cruel and sad ending to this creature’s life. Cal couldn’t blame the little critter, he would’ve done the same.

With a grim sigh, he set the trap upright against the tree trunk and then took care of his personal needs. Feeling saddened and once again out of sorts, he trudged back to the flowing water and spied something interesting on the opposite rise. About twelve or fifteen feet above the ground, an irregular shadow interrupted the otherwise ragged limestone wall. As he examined it, a beam of sunlight parted the clouds and got swallowed up by what he now confirmed was a definite break in the rock. Curiosity poked through his sour mood. What the hell was that? He cast a look back in the direction of the hot springs, as if he could check on Silas’s lazy ass from this far away, before deciding a few minutes of exploration wouldn’t derail the afternoon any more than the pit stop already had.

After crossing the water, he grasped two rocky handholds, hopefully strong enough to support his weight. With a small surge of boyish adventurousness, he heaved himself up and scaled a path toward the shadow. Reaching it would be easier from above, but to do that, he’d have to backtrack and follow the water from the other side of the gully, which would take more time than he wanted to invest in this spontaneous side quest. Climbing proved a much swifter, if effortful, path. Plus, there was something oddly satisfying about the scrape of the roughened limestone against his palms and the gentle radiating heat of the sun-warmed rock wall on his belly. Muscles he hadn’t used in days woke up, propelling him step by step and grasp by grasp toward his destination.

The final heave upward onto a narrow ledge confirmed his suspicions: it was a cave. Bordered by mossy overgrowth, the ghost of an opening (large enough for him to pass through in a stoop) gave way to a much larger chamber. Dampness hung in the air, and his nostrils flared at the tainted scent of stale animals. Maybe raccoons or foxes had once made their home here, but nothing fresh.

Hefting a rock, he tossed it inside, sending up a racket of noise to disturb any nocturnal friends, such as bats, who might be concealed by the shadows. When nothing moved or squealed, Cal slipped inside, finding the opening spacious enough that he could stand upright. With the shaded entrance, the late afternoon sun failed to penetrate very deep, so he tossed another rock into the inky darkness, nodding thoughtfully when the crashing echo answered from well beyond where his vision ended. Further exploration required a torch or a lamp, neither of which he had.

He paced in a slow circle, kicking a rock that rattled over the stone floor. Looking down, he saw his foot had inadvertently walked through an old fire pit and disturbed the circle of rocks someone had left. Bending down, he reseated the rock into its vacant divot, taking a closer look. Dust covered the rocks, and any ash that had once been in the middle had long since blown away or been scattered by animal traffic. Only faded scorch marks indicated the pit had ever been used for an actual fire. Cal breathed deeply again, a closer search for traces of people, and found none.

No, this cave was abandoned. His head circled around the space again. All things considered, it was quite a nice cave: dry, hidden, secluded, and close to fresh water. Hard to get to but convenient for a hunting party to overnight or utilize as shelter in a storm. Was he still on Morris Hill territory? Did the Alphas of Morris Hill know about it? Or know about it but never utilized it? Or had known about it at some point and then forgotten?

He’d ask Silas, but at that moment, exchanging more words with Silas was about the last thing he wanted to do. Cal ran a hand through his damp hair, faintly amused by the irreverent thought of hiding Silas’s dead body in here. He wasn’t a murderer by any stretch, even if Silas’s behavior acutely tested that particular ethic.

Buoyed by the unexpected discovery, Cal slipped back through the entrance and began a reluctant descent down the rock face. The cave intrigued him, but he had other things to take care of today. First off, he needed to convince the wayward Silas to finish their task. Because one thing was certain, he wouldn’t be returning without ensuring Della’s safety and that of everyone else in Morris Hill.

CHAPTER SIX

Della

Tugging her blanket tight around her shoulders, Della poked at the small fire in her hearth and reassured herself she wasn’t being a coward. She simply didn’t feel like going to dinner. Besides that, Rue had gone to the mess hall for once, and Della would be foolish to miss this opportunity for some alone time. She had an apple and some cheese left over from lunch that would suffice if she got hungry. Others, nursing Omegas and their young, for example, needed the calories more than her. So, see? She was being considerate of her community and definitely was not hiding from that Alpha, who managed to be both challenging and unflappable at the same time.

Cal.

His name rang in her memory, the brevity of the syllable offset by the drawling twang of his delivery, punctuated by the shivering fascination that skated over her skin in some kind of visceral acknowledgment. As much as she hated to admit it, heaffectedher. Last night in the dark, with his sudden appearance and unbelievable gall, she hadn’t attributed the way her heart kicked against her breast and her breath snagged in her throat to his presence. Sure, she’d gone to her bed feeling squirmy and restless. She’d chalked that up to the stress of the entire day, not her fleeting interaction with him, even if her thoughts orbited around him into the wee hours of the morning.

Today, though… today he sauntered like he had nothing else in the entire world he wanted to do than lick her up like she was a melting ice cream cone. His focused scan ran over every last detail of her figure, immobilizing her without exchanging a single word. Chemical reactions and the memory of his strength pressed against her in that darkened, secret corner of the night flooded her wide-awake body. Yet, she’d stilled under his review, afraid that the slightest fidget of her hand against her leg or the merest roll of her lips against her teeth would unintentionally reveal something she’d rather keep private.

It was dizzying, being the focus of that kind of intensity.

Given his distinctive (and wholly seductive, she grudgingly admitted) accent, she’d speculated he’d grown up close to the former southern border. But, in the daylight, the traces of likely Mexican heritage came to the fore. Glowing, golden russet skin, a bold, handsome nose, and hair as dark as wet slate completed the breathtaking picture. Unlike hers, his face was unlined, yet he carried none of the immature air of a younger Alpha. He looked, to her, to be in his early thirties, but with the strangeness in human aging after TheEnd, he could be anywhere from forty to eighty, and she wouldn’t know the difference.

But the one feature she did recognize, the smile he’d flashed in the star-speckled darkness, stopped her heart in the full light. Deep dimples bracketed his wide grin, which added a boyish charm to the overall effect. How he managed to look both innocent and degenerate, she couldn’t explain if she tried.

Staring into the fire, Della fiddled with the book in her lap, the brittle plastic edges snapping against each other. Every few weeks, she revisited the photo album and confronted the memory of a life so distant that she sometimes wondered if it was all a dream. But with Rue sharing her home, she’d forgone the ritual, not wanting to explain or describe her past life to her roommate. Tonight, Rue’s absence presented an opportunity she hadn’t had all summer, and perhaps it would also take her mind off the Alpha. With a sigh, she flipped open to the first yellowed picture.

The first photo elicited the usual dull, lifeless recognition. Every detail, highlight, and shadow of the image had long ago been imprinted in her memory. Closing her eyes, she could describe each white-edged crease and every minute discoloration. The picture was an old friend, but the woman in the picture was a stranger. Was that trulyher? Smiling bright and beautiful in the exquisitely designed wedding dress? Laughing at the camera, her hand lovingly resting on Rakesh’s tux-clad arm as his dark eyes sparkled in the soft, chandelier light?

As she’d done thousands of times, she admired the contours of her dead husband’s chest, trying to remember the feel of it beneath her fingertips, to recall the rasp of his chest hair or the texture of his skin. His jacket’s tailoring sculpted to his shoulders, every stitch a work of art, every seam flattering the dashing billionaire who’d once upon a time stolen her heart.

A flick of her fingernail opened the next page: a wide shot of both their families lined up in a massive, blended herd of white and brown faces. There was her father, with his silvering, leonine head and his movie star good looks, the senior senator from the great state of California. And her brother, standing between her parents, an adult child buffer between divorced adults. A proto-Alpha, if there ever was one, in the stiff dress whites of his Naval Captain uniform, tall and straight and strong as a California redwood. Her big brother had been so handsome and capable.

In some ways, Hunter reminded her of him, in the serious, decisive practicality and no-nonsense attitude. Hurt resurfaced as her thoughts tripped too close to their stupid confrontation earlier in the day. She’d resolved to put it aside. It’s not like she would beg him to salvage their friendship. If it meant so little to him, perhaps she didn’t need it anyway. Or maybe time would soften this wall, and they could start over. If not, she’d survive. She always did.


Tags: Marlowe Roy Paranormal