Free Web NovelChapter 33: A Stranger in the Woods I
I ran and ran, but the forested path in front of me seemed unending. It wasn’t long before I began to pant as my thighs screamed in pain. Sweat beaded down my temples and I hurriedly wiped them aside. I had never done so much physical exercise in such a short time unless one counted running away from Audrey. Yet the fear of being found out motivated me more than any muscle cramp could discourage me.
Damon might not want me, but I doubt any alpha of his stature would take so kindly to a mate, fated or chosen or otherwise, fleeing from his pack. My actions would be considered a slap to his face.
Good, since I didn’t manage to slap him before I left. Fuck him. I hoped my absence would be a wound he couldn’t heal from. Served him right. I gritted my teeth and ran faster. If only I had a wolf― I would be out of this place in no time at all!
"Help... is there anyone? Help?"
I paused, whirling around as I tried to place where this new voice was coming from. It blended nicely with the rustling of the leaves. Was I imagining things out of tiredness?
Possibly. Either way, I was still in Fangborne’s territory. I shouldn’t care about their werewolves, especially when doing so would endanger myself. This was Damon’s business to settle.
I began to run, but the voice pleaded again, this time more loudly.
"Please...Are you there? I’m stuck..."
I shouldn’t care, I repeated to myself. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I took a step, and another, trying to tell myself to ignore it as I jogged further down the path. Not my business. Not my business.
Unbidden, the images of Charles and Elena’s bodies floated back into my memory.
My feet stopped.
What if I was ignoring a heavily injured parent and child? Could I live with myself?
"Help! Please!" freewebnσvel.cøm
Fuck. I growled to myself. Fine. I would just take a quick look to see if he was actually in danger. I wouldn’t be able to sleep well otherwise.
"Coming!" I called out, following the disembodied voice, straying from my path. It led me to a thick undergrowth, and I hissed as prickly brambles poked at my bare skin. I sure as hell hoped I wasn’t wasting time on someone who stupidly fell and got stuck in a bush. "Where are you?"
"Underneath the undergrowth," came the weak reply. "Please don’t step on me, young miss."
I looked down more carefully, trying to catch a hint of a living person. Instead, I realized something strange. The leaves here were reddish brown, despite it being in the middle of summer. Beneath the smell of rotting wood was the familiar coppery scent of blood.
Then I saw a hint of purple that definitely didn’t belong on the forest floor, not unless two violets suddenly decided to bloom in a sea of dried fallen leaves. I jumped back in surprise.
"Hi," the person wheezed out. "Thanks for not stepping on me."
"You’re welcome," I replied hesitantly, looking him over. There were fallen leaves all over his face, and the rest of his body was presumably stuck underneath a bush. "Why do you need help? Can’t you get out of there by yourself?"
"I can’t," the man said regrettably. "My abdomen is injured."
"That’s too bad," I said, but now that I knew there weren’t any injured children involved, I could leave without feeling pain in my conscience. That man would heal up eventually and tug himself out. I turned around, ready to leave.
"Wait, you’re not going to help me?"
"Why should I?" I retorted. "I have better things to do with my time." Namely, escaping. I had wasted enough time.
The man hurriedly brushed the leaves off his face, revealing a head of blond hair and an aristocratic face. "No, please wait, don’t go! If you don’t help me, I’ll be dead when they patrol the borders! You’re running away too, right? Help me and we can go together!"
I paused. So the border patrol was coming soon? All the more reason I should go off alone.
But how did this man know I was trying to flee? What if this was a trick?
"Who are you? And who said I’m trying to flee? I could simply be out for a jog," I argued, raising an eyebrow as I glared down at his face.
"No woman would jog in those clothes," the man pointed out, his eyes narrowing at my outfit. He had a point; the cotton blouse could be explained, but the denim shorts and the lack of running shoes were a dead giveaway. "And any werewolf would simply shift and run. Since you are running on your own two feet, you must be a human― possibly a human slave, since you have a collar. If you don’t help me, you won’t get far."
"How astute of you," I narrowed my eyes as I backed away slowly. "You sound very familiar with Fangborne’s workings."
"Who doesn’t? Fangborne’s slavery is famous among werewolves." I knew the man would have shrugged, were he not stuck on the ground. "There’s a reason why no packs want to get into a fight with them. You’ll be lucky to be dead, instead of being a slave. I can’t believe they are even enslaving humans!"
I tensed up. Fangborne had slaves? Elijah had forgotten to mention that detail during his tour. Then again, it made a terrible amount of sense― Susie couldn’t possibly be the only collared woman Damon had satiating his needs. But what curdled my stomach was the thought of others being in my circumstances.
Was I the only ’human’ enslaved? If not, were these humans raised in packs, or did Damon simply enslave humans that pissed him off?
Of course, there was the risk that this stranger was lying through his teeth.
"Who are you?" I demanded. "How do you know so much about Fangborne?"
"My name is Gus. Just another rogue passing by and was unfortunate enough to get myself caught in a pickle. It’s very nice to meet you, despite the circumstances," Gus introduced himself, then he winced. "I would love to chat more, but do you think you can pull me out now?"
