Later, as I sit on the floor with my back pressed against the wall and a navy blanket from the small couch wrapped around my shoulders, my head is dipping as sleep slowly beckons.
It’s a battle to stay awake, but I know I can’t risk sleeping, not when any of the Blackshaw pack could come looking for me. If they find me here, there’s no telling what they would do. So, I plan to stay awake so I can hear if anyone approaches, and when the rain eases, I can find somewhere else to stay.
Wherever that place is, I’ll figure it out later.
Before tonight, I would’ve slept, but I can’t now. Not now they’ve all seen me.
My head dips and I jerk it up again, banging the back of my head, which at least wakes me up enough that I feel alert.
For about five minutes.
I blink, and then I startle in surprise. The one-room cabin seems darker now than it was before, even with the only light coming from the bright moon casting its rays through the window. As I’m trying to work out if I fell asleep, for how long, and what woke me, there’s a soft knock on the door.
I’m on my feet in a second, cursing myself as a fool for this stupid idea of staying.
I cast a frantic glance around, looking for a hiding place or a way to escape but seeing nothing, only a door that I’m guessing leads to the bathroom.
Other than that, two small windows don’t look even close to being big enough for me to fit through. Although I’ve lost a lot of weight over the years due to living on the streets and in dirt-cheap apartments when I had a job in a city for me to be able to afford it, I haven’t lost enough that I can fit through a small, round window.
I’d get myself stuck, and then I’d be in trouble.
As I’m desperately seeking a way to get away, there’s another soft knock on the door.
“Eden?”
I freeze with my gaze fixed on the door, because it’s him. The amber-eyed wolf.
“I know you’re afraid, but you have no reason to be. I just wanted to check that you were okay.”
I don’t respond. That he isn’t kicking me out, or tearing the door open to get to me, doesn’t mean I can trust him.
“Since none of us have used the cabin for a while, there’s probably only stale cereal or crackers in the cupboards. I wasn’t sure if you were hungry, so I’ve brought some food from the BBQ.”
Suddenly, I can smell the delicious scent of roasted meat and wonder how I missed it before.
Fear, Eden. Fear is the reason you’re not thinking or using your brain, let alone your senses.
“I’ve wrapped it up, and I’m going to leave it at the entrance for you, okay?”
It has to be a trap. He wants me to open the door so he can… What, Eden, do what?
I move a step closer and listen hard.
I ignore the sounds of the rain hitting the roof, and a wind blowing that tells me that the storm I didn’t believe was coming, has arrived. Instead, I focus on the crinkling of a plastic bag, which confirms he’s doing what he said he would.
“The rain’s getting pretty heavy, and I heated the food, so don’t wait too long, okay?”
I still don’t speak.
After a pause, I hear footsteps moving away from the door. Just as I’ve released the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, the footsteps stop. I draw in another breath and hold it because I knew it was a trap, and this is proof of it.
“Oh, and Savannah-this is her old cabin you’re staying in-said you’ll find blankets in a chest at the bottom of the bed, and you can help yourself to any of the clothes she left here.” Amusement fills his voice. “She used to be a model and has more clothes than she knows what to do with, so go crazy. I promise she won’t mind.”
A model? This has to be the blonde woman I saw at the BBQ, the one with blue eyes and a face that wouldn’t look out of place in a fashion magazine.
“And the books too, if you like to read, that is. But she’s a little more possessive over those than she is about the clothes. Anyway, good night.”
I wait to hear if he’ll charge the door and force his way in. But as I stare hard at the wood, ready to brace it if he tries to get inside, the next sounds to reach me are those of footsteps moving away from the cabin, and me.
I don’t move for several minutes. I continue to stand there, the sound of my heartbeat loud in my head and the blanket lying abandoned on the ground at my feet.
He said I could stay here-that Savannah, who this cabin used to belong to, said I could stay. I wish I could believe that, but I’m a stranger. I’m no one to them.
Why would they let me stay?
Several more minutes pass, and nothing happens. No one forces the door open, no one does anything.
All the while, the rain continues to fall, and the tantalizing scent of the barbecue just on the other side of the door tickles my nose until I can’t take it anymore.
It’s one step to the door, and I make it on my tiptoes, just in case the shifter-Luka-didn’t really leave at all. That maybe he only pretended to.
When I reach it, I angle my head so I can press my ear against it, closing my eyes to listen hard.
I don’t hear footsteps. I don’t hear any movement at all.
No, something is moving in the forest. But not like someone walking around. More like an animal.
Still unsure, I turn to lean my back against the door, staring straight ahead as I try to figure out what to do. I could continue to hide in here, letting the food get cold-or even worse, wait for the animal I can hear moving about to snatch it up-and I’d be back to starving.
My eyes go to the small kitchenette on the other side of the cabin. Luka said there wasn’t much here, but crackers or stale cereal is still food.
Or I could tear the door open and grab the bag of fresh barbecue as fast as I can and then eat proper food for the first time in forever. And it smells so good.
It’s agony not knowing what to do.
But it’s my stomach that decides for me. That and the sound of an animal moving closer, which is no surprise, since who’s going to turn down the offer of fresh barbecue?
After taking a deep breath, I release it as I prepare myself to open the door.
I don’t let myself think too long about it. I grab the handle, tear it open, and with the other hand, snatch up the bulging plastic bag from the doorway.
But something makes me look up.
Yellow eyes lock on me. For a second, a single breath, neither of us moves. I know what it is, of course-a wolf, and male. A shifter knows these things at a glance. I’m still hunched over, my hand on the plastic bag handle, when it snarls and then charges right at me.
Just in time, I stop myself from screaming as I throw myself back and slam the door shut. A heartbeat later, a heavy crash has me biting off another scream as I drop the bag and lean my weight against the wood, hoping it’s strong enough not to splinter or break under this sudden assault.
After its low growl warns of another looming attack, I brace myself against blow after blow, each one harder than the last. All I can do is grit my teeth as each impact has me skidding back a little.
If it gets in, I’m dead. With nowhere to hide but a tiny bathroom that I doubt even has a lock, and nowhere else to escape, I have to hold this door. All night if I have to. I can’t let it get in.
I’m no alpha to shift in a second, I’m not even a beta to shift in a minute or two, so a fight between us is going to be pretty one-sided, since I’m lacking the teeth and claws necessary to put up a good enough defense.
I’m just me, a girl who was so low down in pack hierarchy that all I ever was in the Stone pack was a victim.
I brace my body against the door until I realize that a minute, and then two minutes, has passed without a wolf throwing itself at the door.
But I don’t move, not yet. I wait.
As the room gets darker, I press myself against the door.
An hour passes, maybe two, and that’s when my breathing steadies itself. I’ve long since stopped hearing it outside, and it’s now that I let myself think about how the wolf so determined to get inside wasn’t just a wolf.
It-or he-was there long enough for me to realize it wasn’t just a snarling wild wolf trying to break the door down, but a shifter. One who hasn’t shifted to human for a long time, or maybe he’s stuck in his wolf shape and gone mad because of it.
So that means this wolf-this feral wolf-can’t have been any of the Blackshaw pack. As far as I know, they were all human at the BBQ beside the lake, assuming they haven’t been keeping a feral wolf locked up for some strange reason.
But why was it trying to get in here? Did it just want the food, or was it me?
When my stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten in far too long, I glance down at the plastic bag at my feet. The cold but still delicious-smelling bag of food.
After dropping to the floor, I go back to sitting with my back pressed against the door and the blanket draped over my shoulders. Then I reach for the plastic bag with hands that still shake, and pull out plastic containers.
In the darkness, I eat until the bag is empty.