Feral Claws [Completed/Editing]

Chapter Nine

"Finally!"

I climbed over the seats of the car, leaving boot imprints on the upholstery. Oh well, it was only a rental. River had bigger issues to worry about anyway. Apparently, that bump I had heard while we were trying to outrace the panther had left a pretty deep dent into the back of the Porsche. Those kinda issues were why we couldn't ever have nice things.

"I say let's sleep for a few hours, and then Max and I will go investigate the Bar and Grill." River said. He was giggling the key in the door as Max circled around the house to check for any sign that the rogue had paid us a visit while we were gone.

"What about me?!" I asked.

"You should stay here. If we find him, he may be dangerous." he replied, as he finally opened the door. Max had finished his rounds and climbed up the steps after me.

"No sign of the big bad wolf." Max said. He was smiling widely, finally happy after getting to drive the whole way home. I ignored him and stormed in after River. I was not happy with the news that I would have to stay here alone while they went out hunting. Plus, what if he came after me here while they were gone?

"River!"

He stopped in front of the fridge, opened it, and pulled out a case of beer. Go figure. He didn't acknowledge me, even after I stood with both arms crossed and a sour pucker on my face. His eyes glazed over my body before calling to Max.

"We're turning in! Help yourself to whatever you want."

Max was already snuggled on the couch in the living room, with the television turned onto wrestling. He grunted in response.

River grabbed my arm and pulled me down the hallway and into our room, locking the door behind us.

"Why does it suddenly feel like I have no control over my own life?" I asked.

River finally met my eyes, and pulled me close. His arms wrapped around my waist, and his fingers made their way into my hair. He rubbed my scalp tenderly and kissed me on the forehead.

I let my head rest on his chest, and inhaled the smell of my mate. No matter how things have been the last three days, our last six years together were well worth the stress. No one had found out about my past, and River had kept me sane during my recovery. Killing someone, even on accident, is something that takes a part of ones soul, grinds it into dust, and sprinkles it into the ocean. It took me years before I could begin to forgive myself.

"Why would you leave me here? What if he comes after me?" I asked. My voice was muffled against River's chest, but I knew he could hear me. He continued to rub my scalp, calming me and making my bones involuntarily relax.

"I'm not going to leave you here unprotected. You'll have this." River pulled away from me, but only took one step towards the bed. He dropped down on one knee and pulled up our mattress. His hand disappeared underneath the bed for a moment, and then he pulled out a glossy black pistol.