"I bet you do."
"Yep. A long, peaceful walk in the forest. Fresh air. Exercise. What more could you ask for?"
"I can think of a few things."
Her brows lifted. "Like what?"
"What you brought me into the forest for. This."
I grabbed her by the waist and swung her around to face me. As I bent, I closed my eyes . . . and kissed air as she ducked out of my grasp. I opened my eyes to see her dancing backward along the path.
I made a noise in my throat.
"Don't growl," she said. "Aren't you always complaining that you don't get enough exercise?"
I lunged. She backed away.
I let out another growl and crossed my arms. "Better watch out. I might decide the prize isn't worth the effort."
She grinned, blue eyes sparkling. "Oh, you know it is. And you know it's never as sweet as when you have to work for it."
She wheeled and ran. As I went after her, adrenaline pumped through me like liquid fire. There was nothing quite like a chase, and one that ended with this reward was the best chase of all. Chloe knew that. I was part wolf--an idea I was finally starting to accept. Running and chasing wore off the restless gnawing in my gut. I don't hunt animals yet. I will. I can feel the urge, when I cross their trails in wolf form, but I'm not ready for that. These mock-hunts with Chloe do the trick for now.
A month ago, my dad caught us goofing around, Chloe running and hiding, while I chased and stalked. He took me aside for a talk and said he worried we might be tempting instincts we weren't ready to handle. He meant sex, of course, but something else, too.
"Chasing humans is dangerous, Derek," he said. "That's one of the challenges a werewolf faces. When you chase, you chase to hunt. To kill."
Except I didn't. There was no doubt, no question, no concern. I never chased Chloe and thought of her as prey. I thought of other things, sure--that was part of the fun of it--but I had that under control. We both knew we weren't ready for sex. But Dad's other concern was groundless.
Project Genesis was about removing drawbacks to supernatural powers. For werewolves, the urge to kill a fleeing human would be one of those drawbacks, and it was one they'd obviously fixed. I didn't tell Dad that, though, or he'd worry I was being overly confident. I wasn't. When I chased Chloe, I saw only Chloe.
And so I chased her now.
Being a wolf, you'd really think I'd have the advantage in the forest. Except this was dense forest, and I'm a big guy, and Chloe's small and fast. She quickly learned that if she leaves the path, she can get away faster. So she does. Which leaves me relying on my only real advantage out here--my senses.
Sense of smell is the easiest. I can pick up her scent on the wind . . . if she stays upwind, which she knows better than to do. I can follow her trail on the ground, but I haven't quite mastered that in human form. It's better to rely on my hearing, which would work a whole lot better if she didn't know I could detect a twig cracking a quarter-mile away. So she sticks to thick woods, stays downwind and moves quietly. Which only makes it more fun, more challenging. A welcome chance to hone my skills.
I didn't even bother trying to follow her into the brush. I ran along the paths, chasing her scent on the wind until she circled back to get downwind. Which I knew she'd do, so I was ready for it. I leaped into her path. She let out a stifled shriek. I lunged. She spun and ran. I jumped back on the path and raced along it, hearing the soft huff of her breathing and the crackle of undergrowth as she tore through the forest alongside me. I kicked it up a notch, watched for a clear spot, and then darted into the woods to cut her off again.
This time, she didn't shriek. She cursed, as she realized she'd fallen for the same stunt twice. Then she turned and ran the other way, deeper into the forest, and it was my turn to curse as I realized I'd unintentionally sent her downwind.
Now she'd figured out my scheme and was staying far from the path. She wasn't bothering to stay quiet, either, knowing the forest there was too thick for me to catch up. I ran along the trail, mentally mapping the system of paths, figuring out which would bring me closest to her, as I tracked the sounds of her escape.
Then the forest went silent. She'd stopped running. Found a place and holed up and wasn't giving me any more clues.
This was when the real challenge began. I grinned and broke into a jog.
There was a decent breeze, so my best plan was to get downwind of her hiding spot and catch her scent. As I ran, I did some more mental mapping, this time trying to figure out where she might have stopped. There was a bike path farther down. Had she gone past it? I didn't think so.
As I jogged, an odor rushed past on the breeze. While I'm quick to recognize the scent of someone I know well, I'm also quick to recognize a smell that my brain has filed under "potential threat." But there's a split-second lapse between my brain saying "I know that smell" and identifying it. So when this scent passed, the first thing I realized was that I knew it, and I started to grin, jumping to the conclusion it was Chloe. Then, as I veered that way, my brain finished processing and I stopped in my tracks.
Cologne. I was smelling cologne. The same cologne that had washed over me in the food court.
Carter.
I spun. No one was there, of course. The scent was a distant one. But I could definitely smell it. Carter was in these woods. He'd followed us from the mall.
I remembered seeing his grandfather across the food court. I'd felt a jolt of recognition, but I'd brushed it off because he didn't look like someone I'd forget. But what if I had? What if I'd spotted him in the chaos at the Edison Group lab--just a split-second glimpse of a face that I hadn't consciously registered. What if Carter had been there, too? Two Edison Group employees. Or an employee and a subject.
That would explain the cologne--if they thought I'd recognize their scent, that would hide it. The older man had been careful to stay back, to be extra cautious. Carter hadn't, which could be why he'd caught shit from the older man.
It'd been a setup. The Edison Group had found us and they'd sent Carter over to lure Chloe away. That hadn't worked. So now they were here, where they could hunt both of us down.
I lunged forward, Chloe's name on my lips. I clamped my jaw shut before it escaped. I couldn't let them know I was on to them. Couldn't let them know she was alone. So I kept my mouth closed and barreled into the woods.
It seemed to take forever to catch her scent. In truth, it took about twenty running paces. I stopped short and inhaled. Her smell was thick enough that I knew she was close. I followed it, head down, until I practically ran into a tree trunk. Then I looked up to see her stretched out on a limb.
"Hello," she said, grinning. "You're getting better at . . ."
Her words and her smile died as she caught my expression. She scrambled from the tree. Before she reached the ground, I caught her arm. She paused and peeled my fingers away. She didn't say a word. Didn't give me a look. Didn't even wince. But I let go fast, murmuring an apology. Most times, I remember how strong I am, but when I get stressed, I forget, which is a problem we're working on . . . before I leave her arms permanently bruised.
I leaned down and told her what I'd smelled, and how I interpreted it.
"I could be wrong," I whispered. Now that she was here, safe, that first jolt of panic had ebbed. "Maybe he was just cutting through the woods with his grandfather."
"Maybe, but you aren't the only one who thought that whole food court thing was weird. If he's here, we should check it out."
My gut clenched, instinct telling me to say no, absolutely not, she had to get back to the house, safe with Dad, while I scouted. But these days, the gap between instinct and logic is getting smaller, meaning I rarely blurt out something like that, which is good, because she really doesn't appreciate it. She was right. If Carter and his "grandfather" were here now, the best defense was a good offense. Go after them. Get a better look. Get proof that we were in trouble before I ran back to Dad with my story.
When w
e set out, though, the smell of cologne was gone. Thinking back, I hadn't detected it since that first whiff. We did a full and thorough loop of the outer trails, but there was no sign--or scent--of either guy. Finally, after about thirty minutes of searching, I found Carter's cologne trail. He'd only gone a few hundred feet into the forest, avoiding the paths. Then he'd backtracked out again.
What did that mean? I had no idea . . . except that it reeked of trouble. It was time to convince Dad we'd stayed in one place long enough. We needed to hit the road again.
Five
It seemed simple enough. We were on the run. We'd met some guy who seemed way too interested in Chloe and me, and then he'd followed us into the forest. Obviously it was time to hit the road. Or so I thought.
We took Dad into the living room. Lauren came along. We hadn't invited her, but she seemed to have a sixth sense for whenever something important was happening. Simon and Tori figured if the four of us were talking, it must be a family meeting, so they joined in.
I let Chloe tell the story. When she finished, Dad looked at me, and I could tell he was thinking it over. I could also tell that what he was thinking over wasn't whether we should leave--it was how to tell us that we weren't.
"Chloe's right, Dad," I said. "There was definitely something weird about this guy."
"Because he hit on Chloe?" Lauren said. "I'm sure you didn't like that, Derek, but--"
"I'm the one who said it seemed strange," Chloe said.
Lauren sighed. "There's nothing strange about a boy hitting on you, Chloe. You're a very pretty girl. It's your lack of self-confidence that makes you think it seems--"
"My self-confidence is fine," Chloe cut in. I swore I heard a soft growl in her voice. "I'm saying guys don't do that, especially college-age guys. I'm not a fifteen-year-old who can pass for eighteen."
"She's right," Tori said. "It's got nothing to do with being pretty. It's all about the vibe. The only older guys who are going to hit on Chloe are pervs."
"But you said this boy was seventeen," Lauren said. "That's not really older."
Chloe sighed. "I'm not arguing about whether or not a seventeen-year-old would ever hit on me. I'm saying that it felt wrong. He walked up and asked me where I got my fries and I told him, quickly and politely, discouraging conversation. Then he asked me another question. Same thing--I gave the shortest possible answer, but he just kept talking. There were girls all around us, checking him out, but he insisted on bugging me." She looked from my dad to her aunt. "He singled me out. I know he did."
"And he did the same with me," I said. "He made a point of getting me to stay when Chloe and Simon left. He started by asking stupid questions. Then, out of nowhere, he starts baiting me, making cracks about Chloe."
Lauren shook her head. "He's new to town, talking about football with a young man who looks as if he'd play it. Those aren't 'stupid questions,' Derek. As for baiting you, I suspect you brought it on by being rude to him. And I think this proves, as I've said before, that you and Chloe aren't doing a very good job of keeping your relationship a secret. You know that's important--"
"This is important," I said. "Strangers, in our town. Singling us out. Stalking us."
"Don't interrupt me, Derek."
"You both have a point," Dad said. "I think Derek and Chloe unintentionally tipped this boy off about their relationship. I'm not concerned about it, but I do believe it explains the situation. He had his eye on Chloe, and when Derek showed up, the boy challenged him. Derek isn't accustomed to that, so he misinterpreted, as did Chloe."
"And following us into the woods?" I said.
"He's interested in Chloe and he wanted to see where she lived. When you two didn't head back to the house right away, he got tired of waiting and left."
I looked at him. Then I got up and turned to leave.
Dad sighed. "Hold on, Derek. Could everyone please give us a moment alone?"
I dropped back into my chair. When the others were gone, Dad sat across from me.
"I know you don't agree with me," he said.
"You think I'm paranoid."
"No. I think staying in one place is making you very uncomfortable, and I think your discomfort is making Chloe uncomfortable."
My head shot up. "If you're implying we made this up--"
"No, I'm not. But I think your eagerness to move on is coloring your interpretations of the situation. I know staying here is hard on you. I know it's also hard having to publicly pretend you aren't involved with Chloe. When Lauren suggested that, it seemed reasonable, but now I see that it's putting extra pressure on you. I also know the situation with Lauren, while improved, is not ideal."
I snorted.
He leaned forward. "I'm sorry about that, Derek. She's come to understand that you're not a danger, but . . ."
"Just because she believes I'm not going to rip out her throat while she sleeps doesn't mean she wants me dating her niece."
"I don't think that's--"
"It is, Dad, and we both know it."
"Perhaps, but we also both know that her influence over Chloe isn't what it used to be. There's no danger of Lauren turning Chloe against you. You understand that, right?"
I muttered something like agreement.
"You don't worry about Lauren," Dad said. "Don't worry about the rest, either. Now that I understand how much all of this is bothering you, I'm going to start making plans to move. We'll find a new place to stay and you'll be allowed to openly date Chloe. In the meantime, we'll just keep a closer watch on things."
Three days passed with no sign of Carter, his "grandfather" or anyone else. I checked the woods twice a day. I patrolled the property four times a day. Once I even had Chloe walk alone to the mall, with me following from inside the forest. Still nothing. As much as I hated to admit it, Dad seemed to be right. An ordinary jerk had hit on Chloe and I'd overreacted.
On the fourth evening after the food court incident, I was in the study, doing homework at the desk. Chloe was reading a textbook while curled up on the recliner. Simon lay on the throw rug, supposedly studying, but when he started to snore, I looked over to see him on his back, textbook open on his chest. Chloe caught my gaze and laughed softly. Neither of us suggested kicking him out, though. If Simon wasn't with us, it was a sure bet that Lauren would say "homework is not a social activity," and shoo Chloe and me off to separate rooms.
It didn't matter that we were actually studying. Or that Simon and I had always studied together and I actually found it harder to concentrate when I was alone. Or that she'd never walked in and caught us doing anything else. To Lauren, it would be just another example of Chloe and me spending too much time together.
Simon only dozed for a few minutes before he woke, stretching and blinking at the big front window.
"Almost dark," he said to Chloe. "You still taking him for his house-breaking lesson tonight?"
I flicked an eraser at him. He ducked it and threw me a grin.
While I was getting my Changes under control, we'd decided I should try once a week. Simon was joking about house-breaking, but that's kind of what it was like--take me outside regularly, where I'd attempt to perform a bodily function, and hopefully train my body to do it on command. So far, I felt like a month-old puppy, struggling to control my bladder before it was ready. Sometimes I did Change, but it seemed more luck than purpose.
I could say we'd skip it tonight. Only I didn't want to skip it--as frustrated as I was with my slow progress, it was progress. Besides, if I said no, it would sound like I was still paranoid about someone finding us.
"You up to it?" I asked Chloe.
She stretched and nodded. "I could use the fresh air. I think that put my brain to sleep."
She pointed at the text as if it was a piece of rotten meat.
"Physics?" I said. "You must need a more advanced text."
"No, it's just boring."
I picked the book up and double-checked the title, to make sure I hadn't misidentified the sub
ject.
"Boring?" I said. "How can physics be . . .?"
I looked up to see she'd already left the room. Simon pointed at the text, grinned and faked a yawn.
"Hold on," I said, striding after her. "Physics is not boring. Maybe you just need me to explain it better. Chloe? Chloe!"
We were in the woods. In our spot. Sitting on our fallen tree, Chloe straddling my lap as we kissed, my hands on her hips, hers around my neck, the heat of her keeping away the evening chill, the smell of her making my head swim.
When she broke the kiss, I tried to chase it, lips brushing hers, but she pulled back and straightened.
"Relaxed enough to try Changing?" she murmured.
"Almost. Not quite."
"Good," she said and leaned in to kiss me again.
Six
Once Chloe decided that any more "relaxing time" was going to make me too tired to Change, we moved to the thicket we usually used. As I undressed, Chloe sat with her back to me, talking and making sure I stayed relaxed and distracted until I got into position on all fours. Then she leaned back, arms braced behind her, and I kept one hand over hers, that touch reassuring me as I began.
The worst part about trying to Change is knowing that if I succeed, I'm going to reach that point, mid-transformation, where I'll feel like I'm going to die. Where the pain is so incredible that I almost wouldn't mind if I did. That will pass and once I'm done, I'll say "it's worth it." But when it's actually happening, I wonder why the hell I'd ever intentionally try to do this.
At least I wasn't throwing up anymore. I remember the first time I started to Change, when Chloe was with me behind Lyle House, and I was puking in the bushes, racked by the pain of the Change. She'd stayed with me. She'd reassured me. She'd looked after me. And that, I think, is when things started to change. That's when I saw more than a damsel-in-distress I could use to get my brother out of Lyle House.
I'd seen signs of it before, but I'd told myself I was wrong. That night, though, when she stayed with me, although she hadn't known I was a werewolf--hadn't even known werewolves existed--that's when I looked at her and saw real strength. And I saw the first person, other than Simon, I could ever imagine as a friend.