Bound to the Billionaire

Chapter Twenty-One: Run!

 I didn't need to jump out the window, but at the very least, I was on the third floor when I leaped.

I'd decided to creep down the stairs; I never liked elevators, too small. Too tight. Made my skin crawl. Especially after my last elevator ride with Jenna, the thought of stepping into one sucked the air right out of my lungs. So, you can bet yourself I was tip-toeing down those pristine emergency stairs when I heard Micah's drawl from down the hall. 

"...It's as bad as I thought it would be. Perhaps worse." 

And that was all I needed. The first window I saw, I pulled up the glass, punched the screen out, closed my eyes and jumped.

It was a very hard crash. Straight into the rose garden Nico's window looked out into. Mouth full of leaves and petals, hands full of thorns. Ouch. And to think, just a purely panic-fueled stunt. I'd jumped from windows before, but this was rough. My head swam. I saw stars, just little pin-pricks at the edges of my vision. My hands, skinned, my shins ached. At least I healed faster than most people could even dream of; and still, I could barely stand. 

The hotel was farther from the bakery than I had planned for. To be real, I hadn't thought much past the lulling-Nico-to-sleep part. The rest, I had figured I'd 'cross that bridge when I got there.' Well, I was there. And I didn't know the f**k I would cross this bridge now. My wolf pawed at me and I pushed him back. I wanted to stay human through this. I didn't want to work with him; I didn't want him at all. No, the Pack House was a little closer than the bakery. I could rest there for the night.

A growl. 

Well, f**k you too. 

North Carolina isn't known for being cold; in fact, it's known for being the opposite: the first taste of the real south (yeah, that's right, Virginia can suck it) and disgustingly, stickily hot. But this winter had been ass. We'd already had a couple of small snowstorms blow in this season, and it couldn't have been warmer than thirty at the moment. Nico's oversized work shirt and his very oversized exercise joggers weren't going to cut it as I hobbled in the direction of the pack house. 

My wolf whined as I walked beside the main road. Tall trees shaded both sides, their branches weighed down by icicles. Every drop of water had frozen and encased the last of the leaves. It looked like they were shrouded in glass, and headlights glared angrily off them as car after car whooshed past. The smell of it all, the acrid scent of exhaust and the crispness of the forest, it all clogged my nose. The grogginess of the fall lingered. Stop. I wanted to shut it off. Sometimes, if I concentrated hard enough, I could squeeze the hyper-senses out. I could squeeze him out, if only for a little bit. I'd been doing it for so long now that it might as well have been a second-nature. Most werewolves couldn't live with ought their wolf and the heightened senses they provided. For me, that's all I wanted. 

Stop. Stop. STOP. He growled and snatched, my head throbbed and my shins ached. I sat on a frost-covered log, the ice soaked into my pants and chilled me so much I nearly jumped at the sting. Instead, I just sat there, my eyes squeezed shut while I tried to push him out. The smell of big firs swam around me, everywhere, so strong that to my aching body it was more of a feeling than a smell. A spiky, stabby, sneezy feeling with something musky hidden underneath. Something musky that I didn't want to bother thinking about. All that I and my spinning head could focus on was the bit of frost under my ass on the log I'd taken the liberty to sit. 

Musky. A tinge of fur and sweat, and something dark. Something indescribably dark, like a void my nose couldn't fill. 

They say hindsight is 20/20, and with how blurry my eyes were seeing at the moment, I was at 20/40 in the best of circumstances. I should've taken an Uber; despite how much debt I'd sunken into, I should've taken that ride. 

Because maybe, maybe, my ride into hell could've started a little later. 

There came one howl; and that smell became all encompassing, a rapid eating away at the scent of anything else around me. Just the musk and that undefinable odor. It seemed to come from everywhere all at once, which had to mean--

Oh f**k. 

Run. It meant I had to run. It meant that I stumbled over gnarled branches and squinted up at a starless sky, this clawing, claustrophobic feeling chewing me up from the inside. Wolves. Not only from a differnt pack-- I'd aought to be used to that by now--no, every hair on my neck was raised. 

Bastard Pack. 

It's not safe at your pack house for you, you need to stay with me. You need to be protected. 

Even Nico's silky, expensive shirt couldn't keep the chill out. I ran, my wolff snarling, growling; but I knew him well; I had to, I'd lived with him all my life. He was scared too.

The dizzying array of scents, that sickenimng feeling in my stomach. I could feel them closing in, could hear the crackle of branches under heavy steps; must've been big paws. They must've been looking for me, it hit me like a punch. I was being hunted, like an animal. 

I'm not an animal. 

That pain. That pulsing, contorting pain as the bones and tendons did their twisty deeds; destroying me, replacing me withs something else. The beast with razor sharo teeth. 

I'm not an animal. 

 I grit my jaw, grit those too sharp teeth. I wasn't an animal, I was an alpha.