I wonder if he expects me to repeat the words Lewis taught me, or if I can sniff him and get more information that way. But he doesn’t seem to require a handshake, and when I hear footsteps in the distance, I know there’s no time for sniffing.
“Come then,” Evan says, and before I can say a word, he scoops me up in his arms and shoots through the forest at breakneck speed, even faster than I can run as a wolf. Trees blur by like they did in Axel’s truck, and only a moment later, he’s stopping in front of a large dwelling near a running creek. I don’t see how this can be a place to hide, as the house is huge and made of some kind of white stone. I can barely see the water in the night, but the trickling sound is like a balm to my ears, and the damp scent of moss fills my heart with comfort.
Pushing aside the massive steel door, he sets me inside and says, “Welcome to my lair.”
Something about this lair-house makes me uneasy. Despite the hot night outside, the air inside feels chilly and dry and dead. I glance around, hugging my naked self. Timbers crisscross the high ceilings overhead, but everything else in the house feels unnatural and cold, from the shiny, white stone floors to the silver legs to the chairs and glass tables beside the couches.
Suddenly, I miss the wooden house with peeling yellow coloring the outside walls that my mate lives in. It was big and fancy compared to mine, with things inside it that don’t have names in my vocabulary. But compared to this, it was small and homey. A shiver crawls up my spine at the thought of living there, with a wolf who is apparently my True Mate. Longing fills my soul at the thought of Axel, but dread sits like a hulking beast alongside the desire.
I turn toward the door, only to see Evan staring at me expectantly. “Can I offer you something to drink? Water, perhaps?”
“I can just drink from the creek,” I offer, gesturing with my thumb. In truth, I want out of this strange, clean house, want to run back into the familiar chaos of the bog.
“Nonsense. That wouldn’t be civilized, would it?” Evan tsks and gives me a reproachful look.
I shrug, feeling as uncomfortable as when Axel dragged me in front of his pack and the whole lot of them stared at once. Never in my life had so many eyes been on me, and it set my teeth on edge. Now, just one man makes me feel as unnerved. Having never heard the word “civilized” before today, how should I know if it’s civilized to drink water from a stream?
Evan studies me through one eye while stroking his jaw. He seems to be assessing me, sizing me up like I size up a catfish before reaching
down into the mud for it. After a beat, he pivots and strides toward a spigot jutting from the wall. He fills a glass jar, steps in my direction, and hands it to me. “Please, sit.”
He points to a grand chair that might be a throne for the kings Mama read books about. It’s long and made of silver arms and legs and a white mattress in a seated position. It could fit a whole slew of kings. I know of furniture, since I built a table for our house, and shelves for our things, but Mama and I live simply.
Evan lays a black blanket over the spot he wants me to sit, and I sink into the softness. I’m not used to furniture so large and so grand. I’m not even sure of the name for most of it. Mama and I own something much smaller that we found near the spring for a place to sit during the day. Mildew had begun to claim it, but we set it out in the sun for a few days until the smell had lessened. For sleep, we shift into wolves and curl up on the rag rugs we made out of clothing and other scraps we’ve found in the weeds. The clothes were covering bones, so no sense in letting them go to waste, and sometimes things wash up or we cross them in our hunts. If we sleep in our wolfskins, we’re much more alert to danger, so there’s no sense in having a bed, though I know of them from the stories in a couple soft books Mama brought home one day.
I take the water from Evan’s hand and sniff it. It has an odd, chemical smell that I’m not familiar with.
“Sorry about the slight taint,” he says, smiling a bit. “The pipes are rusted. It’s only… It’s copper. Yes, yes, it’s copper.”
“Oh,” I say, taking a sip. It sure as heck doesn’t taste like the water in the swamp, or even the salt water that floods in during storms. Realizing I haven’t drunk anything all day, though, I drain the glass, making a face at the bad taste coating my tongue. “I bet the stream tastes better.”
Even grins and takes the glass before returning to the spigot. “Here. Let me get you some more. And tell me, why do you need to hide from the other wolves? You are one, after all.”
“I told you, they captured me,” I say. My chest swells with pride as I recite the words Mama has said so many times. “But I’m a lone wolf. I don’t need a pack.”
Evan fills the glass and returns, handing it to me. “I certainly can understand that. I myself am most at peace surrounded by water, trees, and sky.”
I’m starting to feel very relaxed-perhaps the day is catching up to me. I yawn, my eyelids falling as if chained to the floor. With effort, I manage to drag them open.
Evan gives me a sympathetic smile. “You seem tired. Are you tired?
I can fix a bed for you.”
“No, no,” I say, suppressing another yawn. “I can just sleep here.”
I fall back into the plush couch. I could get used to this kind of comfort.
“So, tell me more about this pack of wolves who captured you,” Evan says. “How many were there?”
“Oh, yes,” I murmur, my lids beginning to close again. “There were a lot of them.”
“How many is a lot?”
“Enough to fill a dozen picnic tables,” I say, blinking to force my eyes open.
“Gosh, that’s quite a lot,” Evan says. “Do you think they’ll hurt me if they find you here?”
“No,” I assure him. “Surely not. They only ever mentioned fighting vampires.”
“Vampires,” he exclaims. “You don’t say!”
I nod groggily. “Right. I’ve heard of those before. But I’ve never met a vampire. Have you?”
“Oh, no,” Evan says. “Wouldn’t that be terrifying? I wonder what the wolves have in mind for their attack?” He strokes his temple with his
long fingers.
“I don’t know,” I say, trying to answer him since he’s been nice to me, though I just want to sleep. I let my eyes fall closed, but my mouth keeps going. “I only heard a bit about wooden bullets.”
“Oh, that sounds awful. Did they say when it would happen?”
“Full moon,” I mumble, then sink into the cushion behind my head.
I can’t stay awake another second, I’m sure.
When two arms wrap me in the black blanket and slide underneath me to heft me into the air, I can barely respond.
“Don’t,” I think I mutter, but I’m not sure. And when those two arms gently lower me onto a soft bed and tuck warm covers around me, I still can’t budge, falling into a sleep as deep as the dead.