The Hunted

Thirty-Four

For one moment before she'd left, as she'd been lying in Red's arms, Blake had let herself think of what a future with him could mean. Endless days spent together, running through the woods, training with the other wolves, and playing soccer. Perhaps she would have even manage to convince him and Henry to restore werewolves to their former glory of hunting all that was bad and rotten in the world as they had before human hunters had taken over the job.

She had held that future close and then released it the second she'd slipped out from beneath the covers. Five days removed and that dream was like tattered ribbons on the wind. An impossibility because Blake would likely be dead soon. In fact, she'd been mentally preparing for her death before she'd even left the safety of Red's arms.

Beare Lake was so similar to Sanguis Ridge in many ways. Blake mingling around the edge of the lake – beyond which the towering trees and mountains of the Boise National Forest could be seen in all their glory – found herself missing the Colorado forest instead.

The booming echo of Malachi's laugh reached her as she grabbed a water from one of the coolers that had been lugged down to the lakeside. Condensation had gathered on the sides of the bottle. It chilled her already cold hands.

Blake hadn't spoken to Malachi yet – not since his return the previous night. She'd only seen her brother when he'd walked in the door, taken the time to hug him and hold him tight, before he'd gone off to bed.

As Blake glanced at the amassed group, she remarked that it was odd to look around and expect to see werewolves but only find hunters. Blake was almost disappointed. She kept finding herself listening for Phillip's laugh and Annalise's squeal of joy. Looking for Henry's deep thundering power and Red's carefree, quiet smile. The one that he reserved just for her.

She was a hot commodity at the lakeside party. Many of her fellow hunters kept coming up to ask about how scared she'd been and what it was like to live in a pack of werewolves. Blake kept to the answers she knew they wanted to hear – like how it had felt when she'd gotten attacked and whether it felt good to betray them with every bit of information she relayed back.

Blake refrained from telling them all of the good moments because she knew that they wouldn't understand how it felt to teach a little werewolf how to defend herself or what it was like to be completely safe in the embrace of someone she knew would protect her against all of the dangers of the world.

"How's it feel to be the guest of honour?" Hix asked as he sidled up to her.

"Just what I always wanted. Attention."

He snorted and sipped from the beer in his hand before giving a pointed look at her water. "You sure you don't want something stronger? Your brother told me that they've got some big surprise gift for you."

Blake cursed. "I hate surprises. And gifts."

Hix cracked a grin but it faded as he risked a glance around. There was no one near them. "What's up with you and Malachi?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've hardly spoken three words to each other all evening. Pretty weird considering that you were gone for weeks on end. Thought the two of you would have more to discuss."

Blake glanced over her shoulder to where Malachi was standing in conversation with Ida and Richard. He was near the fire, clad in jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and an unbuttoned black jacket. The light from the fire flickered in his pale brown eyes as he chortled at something Richard said.