The Sacrifice (Seven Sins MC 1)

And then I did the unthinkable.

I left the house.

Pulling the map out of my pocket, I moved into the woods surrounding the house, intent on finding the red circle, seeing what I might be able to deduce by being near it.

I underestimated the woods, though, misinterpreted the simplicity of the map.

I'd always been good with direction. You could have dropped me off in any random spot in the woods around my home, and I would have found my way back.

But as the minutes turned to hours, as my thighs burned, and my breath heaved as I scaled hill after hill, I realized I wasn't as adept as I had once thought myself to be.

And before long, I lost sight of the estate, got so turned around that I found myself good and lost.

In the woods.

As the sun went down.

I wasn't afraid of the woods, of the dark. I was raised in them. I knew all their secrets.

My fear was of being in the woods at night had nothing to do with the woods. And everything to do with that massive estate, and with its empty basement.

And the motorcycles I'd heard returning half an hour before.

It was too late to prevent my escape's discovery, though, I reminded myself as I sat down on a fallen tree, taking a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Getting upset about what might happen did nothing but steal the peace from the present moment.

Marianne had always said that. I was disappointed in myself that it took so long to truly understand the meaning of those words. I guess I had simply never had much to fret about in the past. Now, though, my entire world was uncertain; my fate was dependent upon creatures known for their utter lack of mercy.

And I had gone ahead and ticked off the only one of them who seemed to—at least on occasion—have a fondness for me. I should have been using that to my advantage, not trying to push him away.

Now, he was likely going to be in trouble for my escape. Which meant there was very little chance of him being kind to me again in the future.

"Enough," I whispered to myself, shaking my head.

I took three slow, deep breaths, expanding my belly, holding, then releasing as I let the sounds of the woods greet me. The chirps of the crickets, the sounds of the frogs in the water, the rustling of the crispy leaves in the trees, the occasional skittering of some small forest creature—mice, opossums, raccoons. The hoot of an owl somewhere far off reminded me of home so deeply my heart hurt.

Before I could even tell myself to be calm, to think of happy things, the rain was pelting down, fast, unrelenting, drenching me through in a few short moments, making an already miserable day that much worse.

Unable to pull it together, I climbed under the closest tree with the fullest canopy for minimal protection from the fat drops of water as I curled up on my side in a bed of dry leaves and pine needles, brought my hands up to my face, and let it out.

I was never going to stop the rain until I exorcised all the negative emotions swirling through my system at a break-neck pace.

So I let it out.

I cried in a way I couldn't remember doing since I was a little girl.

I cried loudly, wailing, when the sounds rose up in my throat and begged for escape. My body jolted with the sobs as I used the soaked sleeve of my cloak to wipe at my eyes, then nose, only to be overcome with another wave of misery, of helplessness.

I don't know how long I lie there, but my chest felt achy, my face raw from my tears.

And then, it happened.

A nudge.

A ridiculous surge of hope swelled within me.

Lycus.

He'd come—even through the torrential downpour—to bring me back.

My eyes fluttered open, finding my lids swollen, squeezing my eyes into slits.

Which was what I blamed the image on at first.

Tired, tear-puffy eyes.

Because, surely, that was the only thing that made any sense.

There was no way a massive wolf was standing before me.

Wolves weren't even native to this area, as far as I could remember. Coyotes, yes. Wolves, no.

But even as my eyes adjusted and the rain suddenly stopped, when fear—instead of sadness—became my prevailing emotion, and the moon and stars shone through the sparse canopy of trees, there was no denying it.

This was a wolf.

A pure black wolf.

With big yellow eyes.

Staring right at me.

I'd never seen a wolf in person before, but, surely, this one was larger than usual. He was beast-like, more bear-sized than wolf-sized, towering over me, his massive paws bigger than a man's hand in the mud at my side.

"Good puppy," I cooed at it. When in doubt, I found soothing baby animal voices did wonders, even on predators you may run across in your travels. "That's a good puppy," I added, my gaze averting, head ducking, but keeping it in my peripheral as I slowly raised a hand, closing around my own throat, wanting to protect my most vulnerable spot. "That's a good puppy. I'm not going to hurt you, so you don't hurt me, okay?" I asked, trying to convince myself to stay calm, knowing dogs could sense that kind of thing.