Untamed Mate (Feral Shifters 2)

Amora

The mountain anglesso steeply downward that it feels like I’m flying. My paws barely touch the forest floor as I dodge trees and run as fast and hard as I can.

Kian, Malix, and Frost could easily outrun the pack in their shadow wolf forms, but they stay at my heels like a barrier between me and our pursuers. As much as I wish I could be as fast and powerful as they are, I’m not. Like the rest of their pack, I have my limits.

That doesn’t mean I can’t test those limits, however.

My muscles burn and my lungs pump frosty air. I’m going so fast that my body seems to be moving quicker than my feet, and I feel like I’m a half second away from falling forward, ass over snout down the mountainside.

Up ahead in the dusky darkness beneath the canopy of leaves and pine boughs, I notice a rocky cliff and a steep drop-off. I put on the brakes, my claws scrabbling for purchase, kicking up brush and sticks and snowy leaf debris. I manage to come to a stop before I reach the cliff, and even though I can hear the pack getting closer, I pause to do a quick sweep of the rocky outcropping to decide on the best path.

Jesus. It’s a dead end.

The nearly sheer drop stretches in both directions, cutting off our path down the mountain. We can try to find another route, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to evade the pack.

Suddenly, Frost whips past me with a low yip.

He sails over the edge of the cliff at full speed, and my heart leaps into my throat. What the hell is he thinking? But a split second later, Malix follows, and I realize they’re jumping on purpose. Not because they couldn’t stop in time.

Suddenly, strong jaws lock onto my scruff, and I’m jerked off my feet. Then I’m weightless, dangling like a pup from Kian’s powerful jaws as we follow Frost and Malix off the cliff. For a moment, I really am flying, the ground moving toward me at an alarming rate.

Kian hits the dirt with surprising grace, his giant paws absorbing the impact with little effort. He opens his jaws and releases me without fanfare. I land on my feet, stumbling only a little, then glance back up the steep cliff side. Rocks rain down on us from the outcropping as the pack wolves behind us struggle to stop their forward momentum before they careen over the side of the mountain. They’re three stories up, maybe even more.

If I had tried to make that jump, I would’ve ended up with four broken legs. Or a shattered spine.

As much as I don’t want to admit it, the shadow shifters are damn impressive.

We leave the pack on the cliff above, their howls of anger following us as we race away through the trees.

Frost takes the lead—probably because he’s got a map of Colorado memorized in that enigmatic brain of his, and thus has some vision of where we should go. We run for what must be two hours, maybe three, descending the mountainside into a valley that has only a fine dusting of snow. Beyond the valley, we go deeper into the national park, heading north and away from pack lands, trying to put as much distance between us and Quinton as possible.

Although his minions did already find us once. I have no doubt they’ll do so again. There’s a very real chance that I’ll never be safe from him again.

As we continue our journey at warp speed, I keep my senses alert for any sign that might indicate the pack has found us, but nothing filters into my ears except for our own pounding steps and the normal hum of the wilderness. Birds singing, small prey creeping through the undergrowth around us, and the soft whisper of the wind arcing through the valley.

At the very least, that cliff jump might have given us enough of a head start to figure out our next move.

The sun is setting over the mountains, casting the forest around us in shades of gray, when I finally decide I can’t run anymore. I slide to a halt, my tongue lolling out of my mouth, panting like my lungs are ready to give up. Collapsing to the snow-dusted grass, I focus on cycling air in and out of my lungs until my heart rate slows.

When I open my eyes again, all three of the men are lying around me, their backs to me and their gazes on our surroundings. Keeping watch while I recuperate without ever speaking a word to me or demanding that I suck it up and keep moving.

I hate it. I hate that they’re stronger, faster, more capable than me. I’ve never been the kind of girl—or wolf—to feel inferior to someone else, but I do around them.

Shoving against the ground, I sit up on my haunches. They’re so huge in their shadow forms that I could stand up and still not be taller than they are lying down. Irritation ripples through me, and I call up my magic to shift back to human form. Even though they’re still bigger than me as human men, they aren’t as monstrously huge as their shadow wolves. I’ll take what I can get.

I stand on tired, wobbly legs and rest a hand on one hip. “We need to talk.”

The three wolves exchange glances, but I ignore them and cross to a patch of grass beneath a heavy, low-hanging pine tree. Snow crunches beneath my bare feet, and the wind is frigid on my skin. The space beneath the evergreen’s branches forms a more sheltered area, away from the cold and snow. I drop to the ground once more and lean back against the tree trunk, because I don’t feel like I can fully keep myself upright without a little assistance at the moment.

I just want to sleep for days.

The three men shift back to human form and follow me, ducking into the shelter under the tree and standing in an uneven arc in front of me. The area isn’t big, so their bodies take up more room and make the space seem somewhat more intimate than I’d like.

I ignore my unease by hardening my voice and saying, “You aren’t the only ones who have been making decisions based on a witch’s vision.”

Kian grunts, his gold-ringed eyes narrowing. “Explain.”

The bossy tone of his voice makes me want to punch him. Of course, I just did that back at the cabin and have the bruised knuckles to prove it. That wasn’t the first time I’ve decked this man in the face, and although it’s been satisfying every time, I think it’s time for us to try using our words.

“Three years ago, I met you,” I say to him, carefully keeping any emotion from my voice. It’s not all that hard, given how much time and effort I’ve put into banishing everything about that night from my mind. “We fucked in a hotel room, the mate bond activated, and then you left. End of story—or at least, that’s what I thought. I expected we’d never meet again. Except, not long after that, my pack ended up going to war with a coven of witches. To get the upper hand, we sought out the help of a solitary witch.”

It doesn’t seem prudent to get into the whys of the whole thing—how Sable is a hybrid witch and shifter, and how she was our secret weapon in that brewing war… except that she didn’t know what the hell she was doing back then. She joined forces with Gwen in the hope that the hermit witch would teach her how to use her powers.

But I’ve never told these three men much about my personal life, so I don’t intend to start now. Sable, Ridge, the other alphas, their child—they’re personal to me. They’re my family. I want to keep them close to my heart and away from this current nightmare.

Plus, talking about my family would feel too much like opening up to the last people in the world I should open up to.

I continue speaking. “This witch came to our village and helped us protect our pack when we went to war. She remained for some time before she decided to return home. And on the day she left, she gave me a parting gift. A vision and a prophecy about you. The three of you.”

Malix raises an eyebrow. His hands hang loose at his sides, his broad, muscular body and dark skin on full display. “What kind of vision?”