Just.
I stood there, wavering, for several seconds. Or maybe it was the landscape around me that was wavering. I couldn’t have said for certain.Taking another swipe at the sweat and blood dribbling down the side of my face, I resolutely focused my gaze on a lone gum tree and headed toward it.
Luckily for me, the soles of my feet were fairly tough—in fact, I think they were the only bits of me that weren’t aching—and the heated earth, sharp stones, and barbed scrubby bushes didn’t do much to hinder my progress.
It took about an hour to finally reach the shade. The sun seemed to be hotter even though it was clearly late afternoon, but the minute the dappled light of the tree caressed my skin, the relief from the burning was almost instantaneous. I sighed and, for a moment, closed my eyes, fighting the urge to sit down, to rest.
If I sat, I might not get up. It would be easy to die in a place like this.
I don’t intend to kill you, whispered a voice through the fog and the pain clouding my brain. That would be too easy.
I knew that voice, but I couldn’t name it. Couldn’t bring to mind an image of the man who spoke the words. Didn’t know why he would want to put me in such a place, in such danger.
Why would someone want to dump me in the middle of nowhere? I was just …
What was I? Who the hell was I?
I didn’t know. Reach as I might, no information was getting through the fog.
Anger rose, and I swore softly, frustrated by the lack of memories and understanding.
Someone had put me here, that much was obvious. I couldn’t have gotten here any other way, unless I could fly.
The thought made me pause.
Could I fly?
I frowned, uncertain. It seemed right, and yet wrong. Like it was something I could do even if it wasn’t something I was born to, wasn’t something that was a part of my soul.
But what was my soul?
Hunter, hunter, sleek red hunter. The chant ran gently through my subconscious and memories surfaced—me, being chased by a boy with wild red hair and bright gray eyes. A boy who sang the child’s chant moments before he slipped from human to wolf form and pounced.
Wolf.
I was a werewolf.
The relief I felt at that realization was incredible. It flowed through me sweetly, giving me an odd sort of strength. If I could remember that, then I would remember everything else with time.
Besides, a wolf could easily survive in wild places like this. She could find food and water that I, the humanoid, would never spot. She also had a thick red coat to protect her skin from the sun. I needed that protection—needed it badly.
I closed my eyes and called for the wolf within. But instead of power, what rose was another wash of pain. It was thick and fierce and hit like a punch to the gut, leaving me winded and shaking.
The wolf was there. I could feel her, fierce and angry. But she couldn’t answer. There was some sort of barrier between us, something that was stopping her, and I had no idea what that something was.
I screamed then, and it was a thick and angry sound filled with frustration and pain.
Damn it, what the hell was going on?
How could someone stop the wolf? She was a part of me, part what I was. How could that be stopped?
I hope you enjoy the week you have remaining, that arrogant voice had said. But I very much doubt you will.
Fear surged again, its taste so bitter that I almost gagged. A week. I had a week, if that voice was to be believed. A week to discover who I was, where I was, and what the hell was going on.
It suddenly didn’t seem like a whole lot of time.
I swung my fist savagely, hitting the tree trunk and sending bark flying. Pain rippled up my arm, joining the various other aches that ebbed and flowed across my body. I swore again, this time at my own stupidity, and shook my bloody hand. Hitting the tree wasn’t going to achieve anything.
I glanced up at the sun again. I couldn’t go out in that. My skin was already red and tender, and it felt like I was burning from the outside in, meaning the sunburn had gone fairly deep. Shape-shifting would have solved that problem, but that was—for whatever reason—out the question. I’d have to wait out the heat and travel at night.
Meaning, whether I liked it or not, I was stuck here until sunset. I crossed my legs and plopped down on the sandy soil. After a while, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to rest, trying to ignore the aches and the internal fires and the confusion.
I didn’t succeed.
Time passed slowly, but eventually dusk cast its bloody ribbons across the sky and the heat began to fade. I rose stiffly to my feet and sniffed the air, searching for something, anything, that might give me a direction.
Nothing but crisp, clean emptiness.
I blew out a breath, saw the evening star beginning to twinkle in the sky, and headed that way. It was as good a direction as any.
Dusk continued to blaze across the sky, vivid and beautiful, but eventually gave way to night. The stars came out, dominating the sky, brighter than I could ever remember seeing them. Not that that was saying much, because it wasn’t like I could remember a whole lot.
I kicked up a puff of soil with my toes, watching the dust float away on the breeze. Was I meant to die out here? That arrogant voice had said he wasn’t going to kill me, but maybe he’d simply meant he wasn’t going to do it himself. Maybe this was his method of revenge—trapping me out here, in the middle of nowhere, with no resources and no one to call on. Not even my wolf.
In the distance, crickets droned. Or maybe they were locusts, because they were certainly making a whole lot more noise.
And they were on the move, getting closer, getting louder.
Too loud, in fact, to be either crickets or locusts. I stopped and frowned up at the sky. Saw the lights—lights that were moving, circling. A plane.
“Hey!” I ran forward, waving my arms frantically. “Hey, I’m here.”
It was night, the landscape was vast, and the chances of their seeing me were next to none, but that didn’t stop me from screaming like a maniac or trying to catch their attention.
Light shot out from the plane, spearing the hill above me. I ran toward it, saw it dart sideways, and dove frantically for that patch of bright salvation. I hit the turf hard, rolled to my knees, and looked up, squinting against the harshness of the light.
“Help!” I screamed again. “I need help!”
For a moment there was no response, then the light flicked off and the plane banked away.
“No!” The word was wrenched from my throat. I punched the ground in frustration, my vision suddenly blurred with tears. Damn it, they couldn’t leave. They couldn’t …They weren’t.
The plane was descending, not leaving. I scrambled to my feet and ran down the hill toward it.
The plane taxied to a halt and the small rear door opened. A red-haired man scrambled out and ran toward me. That fleeting image of the boy who’d chased me rose again, and something inside me leapt for joy. But as my gaze fell on his face, my steps slowed. That face wasn’t the face I remembered. Wasn’t the face I was expecting.
For a start, it was a whole lot younger.
He didn’t seem to notice my sudden hesitation, just reached me and swept me into a hug that was fierce and strong.
“Jesus, Hanna,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I thought you were dead.”
Hanna. I rolled the name around internally, but for some reason, it didn’t sit right. “Obviously, I’m not.”
He laughed—a rich warm sound—and stepped back, holding me at arm’s length. His bright gray eyes—so familiar, so alien—searched mine. “You look like shit.”
“Not surprising, given that’s how I feel.” I stepped back, away from his touch. “Who the hell are you?”
Surprise rippled across his features. “What do you mean, who the hell am I? Who do you think I am?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking the question.” I crossed my arms and stared at him. He was a little taller than me, and broader in the shoulders. His face was rough-hewn but oddly handsome, and his scent said he was a wolf. From the red pack, if his longish hair was anything to go by.
Part of me felt like I should have known him, but the other part, the instinctive part, said he was a stranger.
“Hanna, you know who I am.” He reached for my hand, but I avoided his touch. Surprise ran through his eyes. Surprise and concern. “You really don’t, do you?”
I didn’t bother answering. Just waited.
“For fuck’s sake, what’s happened to you?” He scrubbed a hand across his face. “I’m Evin. Your brother.”
My brother.
No, I thought, staring at him. He wasn’t my brother. Not the brother I wanted, not the brother I was expecting.
God, this was all so damn confusing.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
Frustration and hurt rippled through his expression. If he was acting, then he was damn good.
Why would I think he was acting?
I didn’t know. I just didn’t know.
It was becoming somewhat of a theme for me.
“I can’t prove it here, obviously. I didn’t bother collecting our life history when I came looking for you.” But he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open to show me his license. His name was indeed Evin. Evin London. He flipped it closed before I could catch the address, and said, “Happy?”
No, I thought. But simply said, “So, you knew I was out here?”
It came out almost as an accusation, and he raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know for certain. But when we found your car—”