The Spirit Walker

Chapter Five: Bareback

"Um. Law enforcement? People who catch the bad guys and are supposed to keep us safe?" I try.

"Ah. Constables and watchmen," he returns with a nod of understanding. He steps forward along the unpaved road. He takes a few more steps, and it suddenly hits me- he is not watching me. I could run, and I could disappear into the tree line.

I hesitate, considering the odds of a successful escape. My heart sinks when he turns back to me, a brow quirked. I let out a breath and fall in step beside him.

"Ceallach loved nature," he says, after a moment, seemingly ignoring my question about police. I clench my palms into fists, cursing myself for my moment of hesitation, for not running when I had the chance.

"She loved her canoe- she carved it herself. It took her months..." he trails off, a wistful smile on his face. "Before you, I never had any reason to believe there was foul play. Her canoe was found dashed against the rocks of the Nantahala, and her body was never recovered. She disappeared three years ago... there will be no evidence for the constables to find."

There is a raw agony his voice, turning his words hoarse. He wears his emotion without shame. In spite of that, I find myself wondering if he had taken Ceallach as Master had taken me. If she had been claimed, and then disposed of, when she no longer suited his mate fantasy.

I swallow hard, and decide to play along.

"So, if the constables can't help, what do you expect me to be able to do?"

He sighs. "You walk in her skin. Whoever murdered her will likely target you as well. Her killer will reveal himself to you, in time."

"You want me to be bait."

"I want to keep you safe."

"By making me bait for a murderer," I deadpan.

He pauses for a long moment, considering how to respond. "I will be beside you every step of the way," he settles on.

So in his fantasy, not only am I bound to him by some mystic force, I'm also completely reliant on him for my survival. Par the course for an emotional abuser.

I say nothing. Instead, I turn my face to the rolling green fields, studded with large bales of hay and the cottony tufts of grazing sheep. I wonder where exactly we are. The area looks like any rural countryside town I've driven through in the Bible Belt. The hazy blue mountains rising against the horizon place us somewhere in Appalachia, but Appalachia is a huge region. We could be in Georgia, either of the Carolinas, or Tennessee, for all I know.

I ache for Raleigh.

I think of the craft breweries I'd gone to with friends, the Sunday dinners at Mama's house- my plate piled high with fried chicken and collard greens and mashed potatoes. On cue, my stomach grumbles.

Calum glances down at his watch and then back toward me. "It's about time for lunch. Would you like to go into town to find something to eat, or back to the house?"

My throat goes dry at the thought of the sheer number of people in a town. The police that are guaranteed to be there. Freedom.

"Town," I croak.

"Alright," he replies with an easy smile. "Do you know how to ride?"

"Um, ride what?" I glance over him- his massive, well built frame, the denim jeans and light-colored, tasseled leather jacket he wears. "A motorcycle?"

"A horse," he corrects.

I blink.

"Yeah, I can ride."