Chapter 13

Stella

Ihadn"t seen this part. The moment the car sputtered to a final, jarring stop. When it did, a sense of foreboding washed over me. We were stranded. In the middle of the night. Outside of civilization.

The Mississippi River was just a stone"s throw away. I could smell the swampy funk of the waters. Somehow, the moonlight shimmered on the surface of the murky depths. In the air was the unmistakable smell of death and decay.

As I stepped out of the car, my foot immediately sank into the soft, mucky ground. Panic fluttered in my chest as the rank water seeped into my shoes. Aside from my expensive pumps, the cold, unpleasant sensation on the ball of my foot made me shiver. The riverbed was a treacherous place. Its beauty was deceptive, hiding dangers beneath its serene surface.

Oz was beside me in an instant, his expression as unreadable as it had been on the drive here. The only time I had a hint of what he might be feeling was when I was in his arms and my cheek was pressed against his chest.

His heartbeat had accelerated. His breathing went shallow. I felt the pinpricks of claws dig past the fabric of my outfit and meet my skin.

Had it been anyone else, I would"ve been pissed off. But this was my fated mate. He could"ve ripped my clothes off and I would"ve been all in.

Why hadn"t he ripped my clothes off yet? We"d been together for a few hours now, and I was still fully clothed and unmolested. That"s when he reached for me.

But his aim was off because he reached southward. A grin spread across my face, thinking my man was going for the honey pot. Instead, he reached for my shoe.

Okay. Okay, I could get with a foot fetish if?—

"Hey!"

He snatched off one shoe and then snapped the heel. Then he reached down to do the same with the other. Outrage filled me at the destruction of my beloved heels.

"How could you?"

"It"s your heels or your life."

I opened my mouth—to say what? I wasn"t sure? When he reached south again, his big hand went around my calf muscle. I couldn"t have pulled away even if I wanted to.

I did not want to.

Oz"s hold was gentle as he balanced me against his body while lifting my bare foot. Carefully, he put first one and then the other shoe back on my feet. Then his hands were on my waist as he made sure I was steady before letting me go.

Honestly, I was not sure what pissed me off most, the fact that he ruined my shoes or that he grabbed my feet instead of?—

"Now we"ll move faster."

With a huff, I snatched the broken heels from the ground and jammed them into my bag. Losing my heels was a small price to pay for safety, but it still stung. I took a tentative step. To my surprise, I found that it was easier to walk on the uneven, soggy terrain without them.

We made our way through the swamp, the sound of our footsteps squelching in the mud. The air was heavy with humidity. It clung to my skin like a damp cloak. Every so often, the eerie call of a night bird pierced the silence, a haunting melody that had me pressing my shoulders up to my ears.

The moon cast a pale light over the swamp, creating a landscape of shadows and silvery reflections. The water around us was a dark, opaque mirror, its surface occasionally disturbed by the ripple of some unseen creature. The thought of what might lurk just beneath the surface made tingles of apprehension crawl over my arms.

Oz moved with a grace and ease that was almost enviable, his steps sure and confident. I followed him, trying to match his pace, but the swamp was an unfamiliar terrain, challenging and unforgiving. My blouse clung to me, heavy with moisture. My hair had long since come loose and now hung limp around my shoulders.

I wanted to take a minute and fix myself up. Oz was a panther. He could see me in the dark. But it wasn"t my outfit he was concerned about right now. It was my life. Ken was still after me. I would be damned if I let him catch me.

I knew without a doubt that Oz wouldn"t let that happen. I believed him when he said he would give his life to protect mine. It"s what a fated mate was supposed to do.

Oz"s silhouette was a steady presence against the shifting backdrop of the swamp. There was a determination in his posture. He would snap Ken"s neck if he came near me. I found my steps slowing in anticipation of that event.

"We need to find shelter for the night." Oz"s voice cut through the natural symphony of creepy crawlers and a night owl.

There were boats and barges that went up and down these waters. I"d been on a riverboat cruise with Niamh and Tori once years ago. It was a Samhain party hosted by Uriah. But it looked like they"d all hung up their anchors for the night.

"Yeah, rest sounds like a dream right now." The thought of stopping, even just for a few hours, to lay my head down and close my eyes was more inviting than I could express.

Oz was busy scanning the dark landscape, assessing the safety of every shadow. "Once it"s light, we can try to find a riverboat or a ship captain. Get us out of this swamp and on our way to Chicago."

"Why Chicago?"

"There"s a train there. It"ll get us to Portland, where the king is in residence at the House of Blood and Beryl. From there, we can get you back to Arcadia, the panther homeworld. There, you"ll be able to shift. Arcadia doesn"t have latent panthers. You"ll be in your true form."

The promise in his words sent a thrill through me. The idea of transformation, of finally becoming who I was meant to be, was both exhilarating and terrifying. But for now, the promise of rest in a safe shelter kept me moving forward, following Oz through the moonlit night.

The swamp gave way to firmer ground. The landscape subtly changed as we moved away from the riverbed. The sounds of the water grew louder, a soothing rush that promised a path to escape, to safety. The air here was fresher, the heavy scent of the swamp replaced by the crisp, clean smell of flowing water.

Despite the exhaustion that pulled at my limbs, the idea of shifting was what kept me moving forward. Inside my belly, my cat perked up. I could almost feel the power of her form simmering just beneath the surface, a force waiting to be unleashed.

A simple structure came into view, a quaint cabin nestled by the river"s edge. Its timeworn walls whispered tales of bygone eras. The structure, modest in its make, seemed to have been a silent witness to the clandestine dealings of river traders or smugglers seeking sanctuary. Its rustic charm was evident in the faded wood and the slightly crooked shutters that hung loosely at the windows. The roof, though aged, appeared sturdy, offering a semblance of shelter against the elements.

Oz moved with a quiet efficiency, his tall frame silhouetted against the backdrop of the dark, flowing river. He gathered some wood, and soon, a small fire crackled to life in the crumbling fireplace inside the cabin. It cast a warm, flickering glow over the hideout"s interior. The sound of the fire, the gentle popping and crackling, was a soothing counterpoint to the constant, soft rush of the river outside.

He handed me his jacket, and as I snuggled into it, the scent of him enveloped me. It was a complex aroma of forest, a hint of leather, and something wild, untamed, and reassuringly solid. The jacket was large on me, the fabric worn but comfortable. It felt like a protective cocoon, shielding me from the chill of the night.

Lifting my gaze, I caught Oz watching me. His eyes were intense, dark pools filled with a raw desire. The firelight danced inside the gold, lending a warmth that belied the restraint in his posture.

"Want to lie down with me?" My voice was barely above a whisper, an invitation hanging between us.

He gave a stiff shake of his head, his expression torn between longing and duty. "I"m going to keep watch over you while you sleep."

The statement hit me with the force of a revelation. It wasn"t just the words but the conviction behind them—a promise of protection, of unwavering vigilance. It was the hottest thing any guy had ever said to me.

Lying down, I let the sound of the river and the warmth of the fire lull me toward sleep. The hideout was a humble shelter, but wrapped up in Oz"s jacket with his sentry"s gaze on me, it felt like a sanctuary. Outside, the world was a wild, harsh place, but here, with Oz standing guard, I felt a sense of security I"d never known. Sex could wait when the safety he brought was practically orgasmic.

As sleep claimed me, my last thought was of Oz. In my heart, I felt a growing certainty that he was going to be different from anyone I"d ever known. He wouldn"t betray me, wouldn"t lie to me. In him, I sensed the possibility of a perfect fated mate—a partner who was loyal, true, and utterly devoted.