Tall, Dark & Furious (Pyte/Sentinel 6)

“We have to leave!”

“We’re staying.”

“Are you crazy? They’re coming to kill you!” Samantha said, slapping her hands against the door.

“I know,” he said, wondering how long he was going to have to wait.

“It’s not going to be like the last time, Trace!”

“And how would you know that, wife?” he drawled, already knowing that it wouldn’t be like the last time, because he wasn’t the trusting boy that had let himself be led by his cock. This time he-

“Your father told me, Trace. As long as we stay here, we’re in danger. You won’t be able to stop them!”

“And did my father tell you who ‘they’ were?” he asked, wondering what his wife would do if she knew that a Pack of werewolves was after him.

“Yes,” she said softly.

“And you believed him?” Trace asked, curious since most humans had a hard time accepting the fact that the world they lived in was so much more frightening than they could have ever imagined.

“I’m trying not to think of it at the moment,” she said, making his lips twitch.

“And you’re not afraid?”

“I-I’m terrified,” she said weakly, as he sat there, realizing that the incredible scent that she was giving off was terror.

“Your father is setting up a plan to get us safely out of here, Trace,” she rushed on to explain while he sat there telling himself that it didn’t matter if she was afraid, but as he sat there thinking of that look on her face when he’d come out of the black haze that had swallowed him whole, he realized that it mattered.

It was a look that he never wanted to see on her face again, Trace decided as he reluctantly stood up and pulled the chair free.

*-*-*-*

“Wait, we can talk about this,” Samantha mumbled weakly as she stood there, watching as the crazed man that she never should have agreed to help threw the torch on her front porch.

A choked whimper escaped her as she stood there, hugging the large duffle bag that Trace’s father had left for him against her chest as she watched the house that she’d hated coming to when she was a kid and the one that she’d, unfortunately sank her life savings into, went up in flames. She still wasn’t sure how it came to this. One minute, she was locked in the pantry, trying to talk some sense into him and the next, she was rushing to pack a bag, trying not to panic as he calmly walked around the house, dousing everything in the old kerosene he’d found in the back shed. She’d barely had enough time to grab her bag when she found herself herded towards the front door with Charlie at her heels, nipping at her any time that she slowed down.

“We have to go,” the crazed man said as she stood there, really wishing that she’d asked a few follow-up questions before she’d agreed to do this.

“I just replaced the hot water tank,” she said hollowly, as she watched flames engulf the second floor, trying not to think of all the extra shifts that she’d worked to pay for it.

“Wife? We need to leave,” Trace said, gesturing towards the woods with the bag that she’d managed to pack.

“Sure,” she said numbly with a weak nod and a shrug as she reluctantly turned around and headed for her SUV.

Sighing, Samantha opened the back door and gestured for the little bastard to get in. With a glare, Charlie trotted past her and jumped in the back. Shutting the door, she turned around and-

“What are you doing?” the man that had probably just voided her fire insurance asked as she walked around to the back of the car and opened the hatch so that she could throw his bag in the back.

Trace followed her and did the same with her bag as he took in everything from the extra set of scrubs that she’d thrown back there to the small collection of empty soda bottles, candy bar wrappers, and god only knows what that had been thrown back here over the past year. Gesturing for him to stand back, she closed the hatch, walked around to the passenger side door, opened it, and gestured for him to get in.

With a frown, Trace looked inside the car and asked, “What is this?”

“Transportation,” she said, because she was honestly too tired to do anything more than that.

“Transportation,” he mumbled as he nervously licked his lips and after a slight hesitation, he climbed inside.

When she closed the door, he ju

mped back, rocking the SUV in the process and making her groan. “Sorry,” she mouthed with a sympathetic wince as she walked back around, climbed in, and started the car, which of course caused him to grab onto the door and-