Chapter Eleven

Bear With Me

The night was dark, cold, and uncomfortably quiet, with the exception of the twigs and mounds of snow that snapped and crunched as they neared the edge of the woods, scanning the area for a suitable spot to settle down for the night. Mallory’s breath came in ragged gasps, and she silently prayed they would make it before she collapsed.

“I’m hungry,” Mallory groaned.

“Not much longer now,” replied her companion without glancing over his shoulder.

Mountain climbing was one thing. Doing so on a practically empty stomach felt like absolute torture. Okay, she and Lance weren’t exactly climbing , but she certainly didn’t consider this a hike. It was frustrating, and the only thing keeping her from pausing to lean against a tree and catch her breath was the reminder that she was being hunted.

Prey didn’t have the luxury of rest, especially not around these parts. Here, taking a break would most likely get you killed.

Partly illuminated by the moon overhead, its rays streaking through the treetops, the woods looked almost ethereal. Lance and Mallory stepped over two large trees that looked like they had fallen over and continued to grow horizontally. They walked by another tree that had what resembled claw marks stretching across its trunk. The marks looked recent, Mallory noted, trying to suppress the discomfort that spread through her gut.

They walked in silence, Lance leading the way. His gait was mostly steady—steadier than it had been on previous days, at least. He’d mostly recovered from his injuries, but his torso was now marked with scars from Boris’ attack. Staring at his broad, muscular back as they moved through the woods, Mallory couldn’t help feeling a twinge of guilt.

But underneath that guilt hid a bubbling pool of curiosity, which grew inside her by the day. They hadn’t spoken much since the attack, but Mallory found herself filled to the brim with questions, like who was the woman he’d mentioned in his sleep the other day in the cave.

Julia…

The memory hit her so hard it caused her to stumble. She’d been confused and a bit alarmed when he’d started groaning in his sleep that night, but after a while, she’d come to the realization that he was dreaming, not that it made the situation any less concerning.

It didn’t help that Lance seemed to be lost in his head a lot lately. Mallory felt like asking him what was on his mind. Maybe it had to do with the dream. Or a distant memory, or something like that. Who was Julia, anyway? The question Mallory so badly wanted an answer to was like a thorn in her side.

It’s clearly someone he knows, she told herself. Or used to know, anyway.

But how was she supposed to bring it up? Hey, so I heard you murmuring some woman’s name in your sleep the other night. It feels like you’ve been thinking about her ever since. Who is she? No, I’m not jealous or anything; just really curious.

“How much longer?” she asked suddenly, pausing to lean against a tree.

Lance continued walking, oblivious to the fact that she’d stopped moving. “Once we get clear of these woods, I’m sure we can—”

“No,” she said. “I mean, how much longer until we get to your cabin?”

This time, he froze, glancing over his shoulder at her. “A week. Maybe two.”

His answer wasn’t particularly reassuring, but Mallory wasn’t complaining. It was only a matter of time until this was over. She would be safe and warmer, much warmer, inside his cabin, not having to worry about anyone creeping up on her in the middle of the night. Everything would be okay.

And then what? she couldn’t help asking herself. Hadn’t Lance already told her she would only be staying temporarily? What’s going to happen once he kicks you out?

Boris would find her. The Fae Hunter was relentless. When Mallory thought about it now, her death warrant had already been signed. All Lance was doing was buying her some time. With her luck, she’d spend the rest of her life running from Boris unless something else killed her first.

Great positive thinking, Mallory , she told herself; you’d be so much fun at parties.

Speaking of which…by now, Thanksgiving must have already passed. Back in Vegas, at the Living Grace Hospital, the other nurses would have begun hanging Christmas decorations. They always did start decorating pretty early, right after Thanksgiving. Mallory had always avoided the little parties the other nurses held. While they cheered and shared brownies, she’d be attending to patients in the wards.

She and Lance continued traveling, Mallory’s mind still racing with thoughts. When he stopped suddenly, causing her to almost bump into him, she’d lost track of how much time had already passed.

“We will rest here,” Lance said.

Mallory glanced around. They had left the woods now, surrounded only by large, snowy hills. The moonlight cast giant shadows across the white surface, making it difficult to see much in the valleys. Perfect for hiding until the sun came up, she couldn’t help thinking.

Minutes later, they both sat in a gorge, hidden in shadow and ate in silence.

“We move at first light,” Lance said after a while.

She nodded, although, in the darkness that covered them, she doubted he could see her clearly.

“You need to get some rest,” he added. “I’ll keep watch for now; make sure no one sneaks up on us.”

By no one , he meant Boris. Mallory suppressed a sigh, leaning against the rocky surface behind her. Lance was in just as much danger as she was. Ever since he fought the Fae Hunter, he’d become a target, too.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked suddenly.

She heard the sound of Lance chewing. There was no response for a moment. Then: “Okay.”

She could practically see the gears turning in his head as he wondered what she was about to bring up. Mallory had lots of questions for him, but for now, she decided to ask the one that was at the forefront of her mind.

“When Boris found us,” she said, “he asked you to step aside. He told you that he’d let you live if you moved out of his way and let him kill me. Do you think he was telling the truth?”

The chewing slowed, then faded into silence. “I don’t believe Boris has any need for lies.”

“So why didn’t you do what he asked? You could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble. You’d have him off your back.”

“And you would be dead.” In the darkness, she heard a crunch as he shifted in the snow. “Would you have preferred that?”

Mallory swallowed at the thought of Boris’s blade sinking into her chest. “No, I’m just saying—”

“I did what I thought was right at that moment,” he told her. “I couldn’t afford to let him kill you. That’s why I fought back.”

“But he’s out for your blood now.”

Lance said nothing for a moment, and Mallory imagined he’d shrugged.

“You put your life on the line for me,” she said, “More than once, even.”

“You were in danger.”

Mallory nodded again. “Thank you.”

It was another moment before she heard his voice again. “Don’t mention it.”

She sucked in a breath. “Lance, putting yourself in danger for me—”

“I wonder if he will do that again,” said a familiar voice outside her line of sight.

“Mallory, get down!”

A large hand shoved her shoulder, knocking her aside. Something whizzed past her ear, and as it clanged against the rock behind her, it occurred to her that it was metallic. A weapon!

“I found you again, fae,” Boris the Fae Hunter declared. “Did you believe you could escape from me?”

The hand grabbed her wrist. Lance’s, she figured. Scrambling to their feet, they both darted out of the shadowy valley into the faint light afforded by the moon.

“There you are!” Boris snarled.

She spotted those green eyes moments before he stepped out of the shadows to their right. Boris looked the same as she remembered, clad in his coat and clutching those wicked blades. But in the moonlight, he looked absolutely terrifying, almost ghostlike. He drew closer, those eyes locked on hers, and Mallory felt a chill settle over her that had nothing to do with the weather.

Lance stepped in front of her. “Mallory, be prepared to run. I’ll hold him back for as long as I can.”

Boris chuckled. It was a gentle sound, which only made it all the more unsettling. “You amuse me. Are you this willing to sacrifice yourself for a fae ?”

“You can’t have her,” Lance told him, drawing his own blades. “I won’t let you.”

“Your sacrifices only make you look foolish. And soon, you will be dead because of them.”

With that, he lunged.

Lance moved at the same time, blades extended. Both men collided with a series of clangs and heavy thuds, weapons gleaming in the cold night. They moved fast, becoming a complete blur in Mallory’s vision. Between their grunts and the sound of blades clashing, Mallory's heart was in her throat. She stepped back as both men neared her, her entire body coursing with epinephrine as the details of her situation settled in, one after the other.

Boris had found her again. Lance was putting up a front despite not having yet fully recovered from his injuries, but Mallory had her doubts as to how long he would last. They’d barely survived the Fae Hunter’s last attack. And Lance was putting his life on the line for her—again.

“Get back, Mallory!” Lance growled. “It’s not safe!”

As if she needed him to tell her. This was the last place she wanted to be right now. But for some reason, she found herself rooted to the spot, either out of trepidation or a growing sense of guilt.

Boris lashed out with his blades, but Lance ducked then, sweeping his own weapons in a wide arc. With a bellow, the Fae Hunter lurched backward, and Mallory saw that Lance had targeted the man’s thighs. Boris recovered quickly, however, and delivered a kick that sent the fisherman stumbling backward. Lance crashed to the ground with a deep grunt.

The Fae Hunter suddenly whirled about to face Mallory, and she stifled a gasp.

“You,” he snarled. “You’re mine.”

He took a step toward her, a sinister gleam in his eyes, his blades at his sides. Before Mallory could move, he was on her, knocking her completely off balance. Pain flared in her skull as the back of her head struck something like a rock. Bright spots danced before her eyes, and beyond them, she could just barely make out the raised blade of the man who had set out to take her life.

“No,” Mallory groaned. “Please.”

“I love it when your kind beg for your pathetic lives right before I drive my blades into your hearts,” the Fae Hunter told her, his sheer weight pinning her to the ground. “You fae should not exist. Death is all you deserve, you little—”

A deafening roar cut him off. One second, Boris was on top of her, his foul breath in her face, and the next thing she knew, he’d been lifted off her.

No, flung aside was more like it. Something large had slammed into Boris and knocked him clear of her. The hunter sailed several feet and landed in the snow, partly cast in shadow. A groan escaped his lips, but he didn’t get up. He blinked instead at the creature that had attacked him.

“A shifter,” he spat.

Her head throbbing, Mallory followed his venomous gaze and spotted a polar bear standing barely three feet away from her, teeth bared. The creature was at least three times her size and almost twice Lance’s. As she watched, her vision fading, the bear charged at Boris.

It occurred to her then what was happening.

“Lance…” she whispered.

And then her eyes slid shut of their own accord. Mallory sank, unconscious, into the snow.