The Hunted

Eighteen

"I would've followed you if the roles had been reversed," Blake said bluntly, stopping her ascent to level them both with a cool stare. "If I'd deemed you a threat to my people. Don't feel bad about protecting your pack and don't try to play nice because I'm Red's—whatever. I'm a big girl. I can handle the fact that you're werewolves and probably would have preferred to see me in the ground. Let's not tiptoe around the human-wolf dynamic here."

Both of the females raised their brows at her candour but it was Monroe who resumed the climb and said, "I think you and I are going to get along surprisingly well here."

The grin she offered Blake was a little less hard this time. More understanding, as if Blake were a book she was reading and she'd just found something vital.

"Goodie." Blake glanced at the Luna and said, "I already know her name but not yours. Care to share?."

"Lucy," the Luna said to Blake. "I believe you met my Mate already. Henry."

"Nice guy," Blake responded. "A little rough around the edges but easy on the eyes. Good choice."

"Yes," Lucy murmured, a hint of wry humour entering her tone. "The only reasons I've stayed with him are his abs and chiselled jawline."

Blake's lip twitched. Perhaps Monroe hadn't been wrong because Blake could see herself getting along with these two. Their mates not as much but these women – they almost reminded Blake of herself. Dry humour, bluntness, a hint of arrogance coming from the blonde.

At the very least, it would be easy to feel comfortable around them. No, not comfortable. Never comfortable in the heart of a werewolf pack but as close to it as she could be under the circumstances. Hopefully enough so that the Alpha didn't notice that Blake was there not to help but sabotage from within.

"You know, I was curious. Did your parents seriously name you after Marilyn Monroe?"

"I get that a lot and the blonde hair doesn't help," Monroe said with a snort. "But no. My parents named me after Vaughn Monroe. My dad loves the Big Band era of music and Monroe was a singer and bandleader."

"Oh."

Monroe led them down the hallway to the left, all the way to the end where there was a small rectangular window facing out into the front yard. The car she'd ridden in to get here was still sitting on the grass but Red and Henry had disappeared.

Lucy jerked her head towards one of the closed doors. The wood was a rich chestnut brown, the handle the colour of gold. "This one's yours."

She opened the door, exposing a neat and clean room that reminded Blake of a hotel except it was nicer than any she'd ever stayed in before. Three of the walls were a warm cream, the exception being the one that the bed rested against. It was a jade green that accentuated the gold and brown tones of the room furnishings. There was a desk and an armchair and even a small flat-screen television mounted on the wall across from the bed.

One of the cream walls featured three large windows and the light coming into the room was so soft and natural that it took Blake a moment to realize that no one had turned on the overhead light when they'd entered. She could see the forest beyond – the trees thick and dense – and in the distance were mountains.

Beautiful.

The word rose in her unexpectedly and yet it was true. This place with the sprawling expanse of the forest – it was beautiful.

Some unknown, deeply buried part of Blake settled at that view. The call of the wild that raged in her heart, her soul, quieted as she watched wind whisper through the trees, birds flying above, the clouds floating by.