Full Blooded
Page 35My wolf gave me an irritated snap, directing me back to her thoughts.
I’m sorry, but you’re not getting your way. We’re not lifting tail for every good-looking guy we come across. Plus, this one happens to be a highly trained mercenary. Remember? We are here against our will. Don’t forget it.
It was safe to say my wolf and I were still coming down from a major adrenaline rush, and knowing how the last one had ended, I was being extremely careful to keep my lusty thoughts in check.
Instead I’d plied myself with a bucket of beef jerky I’d bought at our last stop. Too bad I didn’t have any left. It wasn’t a comparable substitute for sex, but I’d had to work with what was available.
I watched the water tease the legs of Rourke’s well-worn jeans as he waded deeper into the stream. I tore my gaze from his completely defined stomach as he hoisted his clothes higher in the air. As his arms went above his head, I noticed two tattoos flowing along the inside of each forearm. They were geometric, and beautifully drawn in a deep black ink. My wolf licked her lips. I did love tattoos. Damn.
He stalked, he didn’t walk. And honestly, if I hadn’t been raised around supernaturals, and hadn’t just become one myself, his presence would’ve been almost too intense.
“Up ahead about ten miles”—Rourke gestured—“is a sulfur stream, and about a mile beyond is a small cabin. The only way to get there is to climb straight up. It’ll take the wolves some time to pick up our scent again after the stream, but by the time they arrive, we’ll be long gone.”
We were currently somewhere in the foothills of the Ozarks, according to Rourke. Nothing looked familiar. Day had broken around us and the morning light seeped between the trees. My guess was it was around seven-thirty or eight in the morning. Rourke had taken a series of back roads, trying to throw any pursuers off our scent, but we both knew it was only a matter of time before the big bad wolves caught up to us.
“Did you just say ten actual miles?”
Rourke chuckled. “Yes, and the last one is straight uphill.” He sloshed over to me. “Here, hand me your jacket.”
I unrolled my shoes, gun, and dirk, and handed the jacket to him without question. He took it and passed me, continuing up the bank on the other side. “And don’t worry, I have a feeling you can handle the climb just fine. I’ll be right back. I’m going to lay a scent trail on the other side to buy us more time.”
I watched his powerful body run up the short grassy hill, my jacket dangling from his right hand as he disappeared into the dense forest along the edge of the embankment.
The cold water lapped at my ruined clothing as I stood in the stream for another few minutes waiting for him to return. At this point, what else was I going to do? His bike was stashed a few miles behind us in a shallow cave, and for the last half hour we’d trudged through thick forest to this riverbank. There was no going back now.
I shifted in the water, wading a little closer to the shoreline. I glanced up and down the river. There was dense tree growth running along both sides as far as I could see. Some large rocks dotted the creek bed, but otherwise the river looked fairly tranquil, running no more than a few feet deep.
“Miss me?” Rourke rejoined me by leaping from the embankment to the edge of the stream. He strode forward, splashing though the water with little care, extending my jacket out to me. I took it from him and rewrapped my things.
“In your dreams,” I said. “Where to now?”
“We head upstream until we hit sulfur, and then take a hard right straight up into those mountains.” He pointed over the tops of some of the trees. The peaks were barely visible.
He dropped his arm and took off.
I sloshed after him. “You couldn’t have picked an easier hidey-hole to get to?”
“Easier means company.”
“The wolves will catch up to us eventually,” I grumbled right as I slipped on a medium-sized rock, catching myself before I tumbled all the way in. My reflexes were much better now as a wolf. Thank goodness, or my ass would’ve been soaked. “Wolves are tenacious, you know.”
“By the time they find us, we’ll have come and gone.”
“Rourke,” I called to his quickly retreating back. “You know I’m not staying with you for more than a day, right? Once I get confirmation from my Pack, I’m heading back the way I came. I’m not jumping from hidey-hole to hidey-hole with you.”
He grunted a response.
After long miles with not a lot of rest, we came to a natural pool framed by a number of large boulders, a strong eddy swirling at its center. It was fed by a steady trickle of extremely stinky water erupting out of a crack in a giant rock. The smell of rotten eggs permeated the air. I took another whiff. “Wow, that’s awful,” I said. “Does it smell this bad to humans?”
That man should be arrested, I grumbled at my wolf. It was a grumble kind of day.
My wolf let off a low growl, her eyes tracking Rourke’s every move, but they were sounding less like growls and more like purrs. The hair on my arms began to stand on end without my permission. I hugged my jacket-wrapped weapons tighter to my chest. I hoped like hell he didn’t notice the effect he was having on me. It was embarrassing.
When he didn’t answer my question about the sulfur, I asked, “What?” a little defensively. “It’s a legitimate question. It’s getting harder for me to remember how I smelled things before as a human. Things are muddled.”
His eyes danced for a moment and I caught a quick flash of green, like a lighter sparking right before it jumps to full flame. “It smells more mild to humans, not like it does to us. Sulfur is a powerful natural element. It does a good job of masking our scent naturally. When the wolves arrive here, they’ll have a hard time picking up our trail with a nose full of sulfur.” He grinned mischievously. “Now I’m going to need you to submerse yourself in the pool.” He gestured out to the middle. “Completely.”
“Is that really necessary?” I eyed the pool. “Can’t we just splash ourselves with that?” I pointed to the stream trickling out of the rocks. “It smells much worse.”
“We will need to do both.” He set his jacket and boots down on an exposed rock. “The water in the pool will strip us of our sweat, the sulfur stream will mask us on the way out.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, instead he dove straight into the deepest part of the pool, surfacing a good distance away. It appeared to be quite deep. The sunlight glinted off his wet hair, making him look like some kind of water deity when he surfaced.
It so figured.
“I thought cats hated to get wet.”
He gave me a cagey grin. “There’s nothing I like better than being wet.” He dove under, his broad, powerful back skimming just under the surface.
“Fine,” I muttered, resigning myself to my fate. “Whatever you say.” I set down my jacket wrapped with goodies and picked my way to the edge of the pool.
My white camisole had stayed dry for the most part, but my black pants were completely soaked from splashing my way through the river. I bit my lip. On second thought, I went back and plucked up my jacket, untangling it from the pile, leaving my weapons and shoes sitting exposed on the rock.
I turned back to the pool. Rourke was grinning at me again. “No need to be smug about it, cat,” I growled. “I’m getting in the damn water.”
Rourke’s laughter bounced off the boulders and echoed back into my ears. “Nothing smug about me, sweetheart.” He turned onto his back to float. “Just taking some time out of my busy day to enjoy the beauty around me.”
“You’re lucky I grew up around a bunch of wolves. I learned early on to check my modesty at the door.” Well, mostly anyway. I glanced at my dangling jacket.
It was nice to have a backup plan.
I turned back to the pool, contemplated my fate for a second, and dove off the rocks.
Right into a pool with a predator who looked like he wanted to eat me for breakfast.
19
“Rourke?” I asked as we swam. “With what you know about the supernatural world, do you think my Pack is winning this battle? I absolutely hate that I’m not there. I know very little about the Southern wolves, but from what I do know, it seems surprising that they’re this efficiently organized. Redman Martin is an arrogant asshole from the stories I’ve heard over the years, so it’s understandable, but it seems strange that he would wage a war so soon, after what happened with the division of Pack lines all those years ago.” Red Martin was the Alpha of the U.S. Southern Territories and he and my father were enemies. It was because of Redman that there were two U.S. Packs instead of one.
“I have a hard time believing any other wolves can best your father and his Pack,” he answered. “He’s a powerful leader and his wolves are fierce fighters. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I’ve only ever had a few run-ins with Red, but as much as he is arrogant, he’s equal parts lazy. He likely wants to ransom you to the highest bidder or has some other slimy, easy-to-profit-from plan in place. It may even be as simple as he wants to pay back your father for any perceived wrongdoings. My guess is the fighting won’t last long once they find out you’re gone. You’re their prize. No prize, no fight. He knows he won’t win a combat battle, which is why no wolves were fighting on the streets. They were looking for you. You did your Pack a favor by leaving.”
I hoped what he said was true. We didn’t swim for very long, time being of the essence. Rourke emerged first, and I watched him from my spot on the other side of the pool. He picked his way over the rocks with ease, his jeans conveniently sticking to all the important parts. Water sluiced off his shoulders, running down his back in cascading rivers. His hair looked much darker wet than it had dry. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">