Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sweden was an extraordinarily beautiful country. In the week since Rhene had arrived, the temperatures had dropped farther and lazy snowflakes drifted down when he snuck out the back of the camp. He’d shifted first, and then Gregor had tied a bag containing clothes and his boots to his back. It was far from ideal since it hindered his movements, but he’d have to make do. In this climate, clothes were not a luxury in his human form. They were an absolute necessity.

He’d left the camp late in the afternoon, and shortly after, darkness had fallen. He couldn’t imagine living here during the long winters when the sun only showed her face a few hours each day. He’d go crazy, and the endless summer days didn’t make up for that lack of sunlight in the winter as far as he was concerned.

Luckily, his vision as a wolf was more than sufficient to see in the dark, even if it wasn’t quite as good as Erwan’s. He stretched his legs and ran, covering the bare ground in rhythmic, almost silent strides. His paw prints were easy to spot in the thin layer of snow, but he couldn’t do much about it except hope that more snow would fall soon to cover them. He had little opportunity to hide in the vast emptiness of rolling hills covered with snowcapped moss, boulders, and low bushes.

As stunning as the landscape was—though he couldn’t make out much with only a pale sliver of moon lighting his way—he didn’t enjoy it. The darkness had brought almost complete silence. It was too quiet, and it unnerved him.

Back home, one could always hear something in the background. A car, an airplane, some kind of machinery. Plus, of course, his pack mates talking, shouting, laughing. Even the occasional sounds of a quick fuck, though those had been more common in the Hayes pack than in his own.

But here? Nothing except for a rare bird call. The silence was deafening, oppressive, though he couldn’t explain why. Maybe because he felt utterly alone, the landscape showing no signs that humans were present. His sensitive nose picked up on the scent of animals, reindeer probably and maybe some arctic foxes, but he didn’t see any.

Not that he was wasting any time looking for them. Before he’d left, he’d eaten a filling meal that should tide him over till the morning. Hopefully, by then, he’d reach the inhabited world again and could figure out a way to get on a plane. He’d run all night if he had to to find safety. But like Gregor had said, at least Rhene knew his mate was safe. That was one heavy load off his shoulders.

He missed Erwan. Whenever he’d pictured himself with a partner—before he’d met Erwan—he’d always thought of himself as independent, as someone who would be the strong one in a relationship, the protector of a weaker partner. But Erwan and he were equals in every way.

Physically, Erwan was stronger than Rhene, and he had no issues acknowledging that. But psychologically and emotionally, they complemented each other very well, balancing each other. Now, without his mate by his side, half of him was missing. Like he was incomplete, out of balance. Funny how quickly he’d grown used to having Erwan with him, almost to the point of being addicted to him. He needed him in a way he’d never expected to. And even stranger was that he was more than okay with that, whereas before, the thought of being so dependent on someone else would’ve scared him.

It didn’t sit well with him that he couldn’t communicate with Erwan. Hopefully, by the morning, he’d be back in an area where his phone would work so he could send a message and let him know he was okay. It stung that he wasn’t able to be there for Erwan, knowing his mate would need him as he was processing the loss of his mother. Rhene couldn’t explain how he knew Queen Grian had passed away, but he did. The certainty of it weighed heavily on his soul, but there was nothing he could do to support his mate. Thankfully, Erwan’s brothers would be there for him, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Shadows loomed in the distance, dark triangles against the starry horizon. Trees. Finally, he’d have some cover. Maybe then he could let go of that sense of foreboding, the silent fear creeping up his spine.

He caught movement in the periphery of his vision and looked up. Oh crap. Three large shapes zipped through the sky, dark blotches against an ink-black sky. Dragons. He had to assume they weren’t friendly.

Out here in the open, he didn’t stand a chance of defending himself against them. No, he had to reach the forest before they got to him. He sped up, breaking into a full sprint.

A whoosh swept over his head, and he stumbled, his legs going numb. Shit. He slid facefirst into the rough moss, toppled over, and somersaulted, narrowly missing a boulder. He lay panting, then rolled over and tested his legs. They worked. Thank god he was in his wolf shape. As a human, that tumble would’ve hurt twenty times worse.

He took off again, this time in a zig-zag pattern to make it harder for them to spot him. They were using magic, of course, which was such a cowardly way to fight since they knew he didn’t have any. These spineless assholes weren’t going to physically attack him, not when they could hurt him from a distance.

Pinpricks stung his right back leg, and he came to a halt, throwing up snow as he did, and took a sharp turn sideways. The magic bounced off him, and he only stumbled for a second. Okay, that meant he could feel it. The sensation had been similar to when he sat for too long and had cut off part of the blood flow to his legs. His legs would always prick after that, and this had too.

But he’d never escape them for long with running. They had great vision, so all they had to do was set a trap. The one benefit he had was that dragons couldn’t fly slowly. They had to maintain a certain speed to stay in the air, so they would have to circle and keep coming back to him. They couldn’t stay right above his head like some dragon helicopter. Was there a way to use that to his advantage?

He didn’t dare look up, needing to concentrate on navigating the uneven terrain. Shit, another pinprick, this time on his neck. Instead of stopping, he jumped forward, and the magic hit his tail. Motherfucker, that hurt. These guys weren’t taking it easy on him. Did they want to capture him? Or did they want him dead? Because if it was the last, he was in deep, deep trouble.

All right, time to focus. He’d withstood Cladhaire’s magic, so he had to be able to resist this as well, right? He should be able to tap into not only his mate’s powers but also into those of both packs. Picturing Erwan was easy, his image always on Rhene’s mind. He allowed it to fill his head as he kept running, pretending the love of his life was right in front of him.

Oh, there was the connection, the power of it humming. Now, he had to follow it. He let it flow through him, sending electric shocks throughout his body. Perfect. Now, the rest of the pack.

A piercing pain hit his right side, and he went down with a loud howl. Oh god, that fucking hurt, like he’d been stabbed. Maybe he had been. He had no way of knowing.

He crawled back up, his legs buckling, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to move through the pain. If he stayed down, he was dead.

The forest was so close, and the dragons wouldn’t be able to fly through it. They’d have to keep more distance, which might give him a chance to get away.

Focus. Focus, dammit. It was his only chance of survival.

He was walking again, but his right back leg wouldn’t move in sync, like the communication with his brain was delayed. He pulled up the connection with Erwan again. I need you, baby. Please. I need your power. If he’d been able to speak, he would have, but all he could was howl as pain blazed through him.

Deep inside him, a warmth bloomed, spreading outward. It tingled, heating his body after being outside for too long in the cold. Power. Someone was sending him power. Erwan? It had to be, right? He pulled it in, connected with it, allowing it to flow through him. He sent it into his leg, his side, and the pain dimmed. It wasn’t gone, but he could move.

A dark shadow whooshed right above him, and the dragon let out a burst of flames that singed Rhene’s fur. Shit. He sped up, banking left, then right rather than aiming straight for the forest. Wait, what was that? Wolves. There were wolves nearby. He smelled them. Without thinking, he changed course.

He heard them now too, the pounding of wolves running. Actual wolves, not shifters, but would the dragons be able to tell the difference? It could give him the opportunity to get away. Another pinprick of magic hit him, and he picked up his pace, zigzagging from right to left. Another fire burst he avoided by coming to a full stop and veering in the opposite direction. The dragons could easily track him now with how he stirred up the fluffy snow, but speed was everything.

There they were! Six, no seven wolves, about two hundred yards to his left. Perfect. He took a quick peek at the sky. The three dragons were flying ahead of him, about to circle back for their next attack. That meant they couldn’t see him. He turned left, sprinted toward the wolves, and slipped between them. The two in the back looked at him, but it seemed more out of curiosity than animosity, so maybe they saw him as the same species? He pushed himself forward, taking position between two of the biggest wolves. They were smaller than him, but not by much, and from the sky, the difference wouldn’t be easy to spot.

The dragons were above them now, and seconds later, fire rained down. Fuck. Apparently, they had decided that if they couldn’t see which one he was, they’d burn them all. The wolves howled, and the pack broke apart, every animal running in a different direction. Rhene couldn’t have staged it better himself. He ran with the two big wolves for a hundred yards, then split off and aimed for the forest.

He dashed between the trees and headed right rather than straight ahead, which was hopefully what the dragons expected him to do. Another wolf ran past him, and when it disappeared out of sight, Rhene stopped running. His lungs hurt, and his chest was heaving with the effort to breathe as he slid under some undergrowth and kept absolutely silent.

The sounds of the other wolves faded. But the dragons were back, their large, threatening shadows barely visible against the sky through the snow-covered canopy above him. Rhene closed his eyes and pulled his mate’s magic back in, visualizing wrapping it around himself like a shield. A boost in energy filled him, spreading warmth through his body. Thank god. He’d somehow connected with other dragons, his pack, or maybe even Lidon? Whoever it was, they were shielding him. He couldn’t explain how, but he knew the dragons couldn’t sense him.

They circled, left, and came back again, but Rhene stayed where he was. Thank god for tall pine trees. He lost all track of time as he lay hidden in his little hole, not even cold as the magic hummed through his veins, keeping him warm. His eyes fell shut.

When he opened his eyes again, the dragons were gone, and nothing but silence surrounded him. Oh, they would try again, no doubt, but for now, he was safe.

Lord almighty, that had been way too close. If he hadn’t spotted those wolves and hadn’t been so close to the trees, he wouldn’t have made it. And he definitely wouldn’t have managed to stay hidden without the magic lent to him. Thank you, baby.

He slid from under the bushes and took a few careful steps, listening intently. Nothing. He didn’t smell anything either other than some faint animal scents. For the first few minutes, he took it slow, stopping every thirty seconds to make sure he was truly alone. When nothing had stirred after maybe twenty minutes, he sped up, zigzagging between the trees until he hit open land again. No dragons.

He broke into a sprint, going as fast as possible. Mile after mile, he ran, praying those dragons wouldn’t return, that he’d make it safely back to his mate. Finally, he saw the first signs of human presence. Snowmobile tracks. No, not a snowmobile, a dog sled, judging by the paw prints in the snow.

In the distance, smoke rose from a white structure that looked like a hunting barn. Not a permanent residence, probably. More tracks. Dogs, a sled, human footprints. Recent ones not covered by snow. He’d better be careful, then. Maybe he should stick to the wooded areas.

He set course for the trees, relieved when he reached the forest’s edge. He never saw the tripwire until it looped around his front paw, yanking him upward until he hung facedown from a tree branch.

Oh fuck.