So just don't trust my ANs anymore :P I'm crap at updating.
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Bang!
Clara was jolted suddenly from her peaceful sleep by the loud noise, sending her heart into a pounding frenzy within her chest. She blinked a few times, trying to regain her grip on reality – just as something lunged for her.
Acting on instinct, she rolled over to the side – and straight off the bed. If the sound didn’t wake her up, the fall certainly did. With wide eyes and adrenalin pumping through her, she leapt to her feet and lashed out at the assailant that had taken her place on the bed, not recognising the dark haired, growling man.
She didn’t have time to think about who he could be – he leapt again, slamming her mercilessly against the wall before she could dodge him. Definitely a werewolf, she thought with a groan, feeling his claws rip through her T-shirt and dig into her side. Her training, although seldom used in the past few weeks, all rushed back to her, and she lifted her knee up to shove the attacker back, slipping out of his grip with agile movements.
In her split-second of free time, she assessed the room: on the other side of the bed, an angry and shirtless Wyatt was grappling with two men, all growling furiously. Just before she returned her attention to the wolf she was dealing with, she was pleased to see him easily take down one of them.
“I was trying to sleep, asshole.” Clara muttered, punching her attacker just as he straightened from her previous blow. She pressed her assault, knocking him down onto the bed and reaching out to grab a heavy-looking lamp from the nightstand. The wires were yanked out as she pulled it swiftly towards her, positioning it above her head in preparation to strike the werewolf in front of her.
Behind her, somebody grabbed her hands, using the momentum of the heavy lamp she held to send her falling to the floor, landing hard on her back. Her head ricocheted painfully against the wooden floor, but she recovered, rolling away as a black boot slammed down where her head had been moments before.
Clara scrambled to her feet, aware that her bag was just behind her. If she could reach it, she could get her gun –
There was no time. She staggered a step or two to the side as she felt the full impact of a fist to her cheek, followed by a blow to her stomach that nearly knocked her over. She was getting pretty frustrated of losing this fight, and let out an angry noise as she sidestepped another swing and shoved her full weight at the werewolf.
He stumbled back into his partner, disorientating the two long enough for Clara to kick them into the harsh corners of the nightstand. She returned her gaze to Wyatt, just as he threw one of the men into the wall. It cracked loudly, the sound splitting through the air and silencing the man’s growls.
With fast breaths and a racing heartbeat, she realised that these were Duncan’s men – they had to be. “Wyatt, we have to go!” she yelled, distracting him slightly from the other attacker at his feet.
After a few seconds of thought, he glanced out of the uncovered window. When he seemed to find whatever he was looking for, he nodded with a hard expression.
Knowing he would follow, Clara grabbed her backpack and ran out of the open doorway. She spotted the door itself lying idle near the bed – probably the source of the noise that woke her up. In the hallway, a quick turn revealed an angry-looking guy at the opposite end, striding straight towards her. She didn’t spare him another glance, but ran in the opposite direction.
Her numbness to the pain in her side started to fade, and she clutched it tightly, bloodying her hand in the process. Gasping for breath and feeling a little dizzy, she continued her sprint to the car, spotting Wyatt as he easily overtook her and unlocked the vehicle, just in time for her to collapse into the passenger seat.
She relaxed into the leather, spotting a few men in the parking lot as they approached, lost after only a few seconds as their car sped away, accompanied by the tired mutter of: “Shit.”
* * *
Only after nearly thirty minutes of frenzied driving did they speak, each still expelling their lingering shock from the world’s rudest awakening.
Clara’s head was pounding and her hair dampened slightly by her own blood. She kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead, willing herself not to give into the exhaustion pulling at her eyelids. The claw marks in her side had started to heal – she could feel the pain gradually lessening as her inherited ability kicked in – but it was agony nonetheless.
When she finally got her breathing under control and looked over at Wyatt, she blanched at the gashes marring his bare torso. Dried blood caked his skin, but he didn’t even seem to notice.
“Jesus, Wyatt,” she exclaimed, shocking him out of his silence. He glanced over briefly. She noticed the sweat in his hair, his clenched jaw and flared nostrils – he had to be in pain. “You’re bleeding out!”
“I’m -” Clara gave him a deadpan look before he could say I’m fine. “I’ll heal.” He amended.
“Not fast enough.” She replied swiftly, still eyeing the open cuts. “Pull over.”
He shot her an incredulous look, lifting his hand to gesture at the endless expanse of empty road and forest, lit by the creeping dawn. “We’re in the middle of nowhere!”
Still, with an exasperated sigh he slowly drew the car to the edge of the road, which was narrow enough as it was. Although neither of them really expected anyone to drive by.
Clara slid out of the car, leaving it open as she walked around to the back and opened the trunk. She grabbed the first bag she saw, knowing none of them contained any first-aid materials. After a pause and a quick glance around the dim, eerie forest by the road, she reached into a bag she recognised as her own and dug through it until she found her gun.
She dropped the bag once she reached Wyatt, having already swiped a large shirt out of it. He stood leaning against the closed driver’s door with a pained expression that he masked quickly. She stepped around to look at his cuts, wincing slightly at their severity. She pressed the shirt firmly against the bloody mess.
“Where’d that come from?” Wyatt spoke through his teeth, nodding to the poorly concealed gun jammed in her waistband. His hands took her place at his side as he begrudgingly kept the stained shirt in place.
“I got it from my apartment a few weeks ago.” She answered. “Never know when it might come in -”
Clara spun around, the sound of twigs snapping still echoing around her head. She whipped out the gun out of habit, flicking off the safety and pointing blindly towards the trees.
She heard Wyatt’s low chuckle behind her. “Calm down,” he said, a smile in his voice. “It’s nothing.”
Still, she kept it raised. Slowly, she took a few steps into the treeline, her eyes sweeping around the shaded, dense undergrowth. There was nothing there. She turned and started back towards Wyatt. “Sorry, I guess I’m still a little jumpy.”
Her heart skipped a beat as his easy smile dropped – along with the shirt he pressed to his wound. “Clara -”
She spun around before he could finish her name, raising the gun again and firing high into the trees – a warning. Her hands ached with the sudden recoil of the weapon and her ears rang. She took in the sight of two grey wolves stalking slowly forward, neither with their teeth bared. Two more followed, and soon around eight wolves stood staring at them.
“Stay the hell back!” she warned, training the gun on the closest werewolf. She knew they weren’t natural wolves – they were too organised, too bold in coming so close to humans.
“They’re not Duncan’s.” Wyatt breathed behind her. She didn’t let herself feel relieved. “Clara, put the gun down.” She still didn’t relent. It didn’t matter what pack these wolves were from – they were strangers, and certainly didn’t look friendly.
“Well then who are they?” she spat, her eyes still darting between each wolf.
Out of the shadows, a man approached, naked as the day he was born and wielding nothing but a friendly smile. Despite his age, which she placed somewhere in his fifties, he was a broad-shouldered and imposing man.
“My name’s Jebediah.” He answered her, standing tall before the wolves behind him. He gestured to them. His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time. “And these are my friends.” One or two of the wolves snorted, causing the man to laugh.
“What pack are you from?” Wyatt asked uncertainly. He didn’t seem threatened, but merely confused, his eyes floating around the unfamiliar wolves before settling on the naked man – Jebediah.
“We don’t consider ourselves a pack, so to speak,” he explained, opening his hands. “We don’t have a leader.”
Wyatt tilted his head, further perplexed. “Well…can we help you?”
Now the naked man seemed a little lost. “We rather thought that we could help you.”
Clara realised the gun in her hands had started to tilt downwards as she listened, and quickly lifted it again. Jebediah didn’t fail to notice, but his smiling expression did not at all shift.
“I don’t understand.” Said Wyatt.
Jebediah glanced back at the wolves, before turning again to face the strangers. “Usually when wolves come to these parts, it’s to join us.”
“So you just let anybody in?”
“Any wolf is welcome.” The strange man declared with a bright smile, not bothering to correct Wyatt’s slip-up in their status.
“That’s kind of you,” Clara said, unable to hold back the slightly acidic tone that her voice took. “But we’re just passing through.”
Wyatt shot her a warning look and gazed thoughtfully at Jebediah.
“If you’re seeking a place to stay, you’re welcome, son.” He said, before giving Clara a quick glance that somehow didn’t seem as warm. “And your friend here, of course.”
“You must be a pretty large pack if you’re letting in all the wolves you come across.” Wyatt said, finally with some suspicion.
“It’s more like they come across us.” Jebediah clarified with a wry smile. “We may welcome all newcomers but there aren’t many coming through here.”
“Why would people join you?” Clara asked, her outstretched arms starting to ache.
Wyatt quickly butted in: “I hope you don’t mind our caution, but I’ve never even heard of you or your pack.”
“We live a very…basic life out here, laying low and out of the way. We don’t really leave the area at all. As for our members…it’s mostly runaways, outcasts and the like that end up here.” Jebediah finished slowly, watching them closely as if he was deciding if they fit into the typical category.
There was a long pause, during which Wyatt seemed actually contemplative about staying with them. Clara glared at him momentarily before returning her wary stare to the wolves around them.
“So, will you be staying?”
With only a quick glance at his mate, Wyatt replied: “Only for a while, if you’ll have us.”
“Wyatt!” she exclaimed, lowering the gun as she turned to face him with incredulity. “Don’t you think we should talk about this first?”
With a sigh and an apologetic smile to Jebediah and not Clara, he led her some ways down the empty road until they were just out of earshot from where the wolves still stood. “What’s the matter?” he said.
“How can you trust this guy? He just stepped out of the woods and offered you a place to stay! Doesn’t that seem a little suspicious?” she fired, pocketing the gun and allowing her sore arms a rest as she berated him.
“I don’t trust him – but I know he’s not Duncan. I’ve heard a little of these packs, Clara – nobody knows them because they live as wolves. They don’t care about our pack squabbles.”
She stepped back and clenched her fists with exasperation. “But don’t you think it’s weird that he’s letting us stay, right off the bat?”
“Not really. They don’t seem to care. Any anyway, I’m sure they’ve got more than enough wolves to take us down if they really want to.” With that, he gave her an encouraging smile and turned and walked back to Jebediah.
* * *
They left the car in a clearing of some undergrowth, taking out their few belongings and following a still-naked Jebediah and his wolves through dense trees. Clara hit her head more than once, a little dizzy from exhaustion. Soon, they came to another clearing of trees with a flat, dirt ground that quickly inclined to another level of the forest floor.
Jebediah pulled out a camping set from a cluster of rocks as if he’d done it a million times and handed the bags, bursting at the seams, to Wyatt and Clara. She soon caught on that all the wolves around except for Jebediah were just that: wolves. None were in their human form – but it seemed that they were prepared to host them anyways.
By the time the sun started to set, they had erected the old – smelly – tent and spoken thoroughly with Jebediah. He was welcoming in a way that seemed genuine, but Clara still got a strange vibe from the wolves as a whole. There were too many gazes on them.
Wyatt sensed her unease that evening as they lay in the tent on the outskirt of the clearing, far from the selected sleeping places of the wolves. She did feel a little better about that.
“How long are we going to stay here?” she whispered, turning to lay on her side.
Wyatt chuckled at her ceaseless, somewhat unnecessary suspicion. “Not long. A week, tops?”
She couldn’t help the groan that escaped her. Sleeping in a tent, for a week? “And then where?” before he could answer, she added: “Preferably somewhere with showers.”
His smile widened. “And a real bed.”
They paused for a moment, each considering the future.
“What about Toronto?” Clara suggested.
“Toronto?”
“Or Montreal or Mississippi – or New York or Washington…Let’s go somewhere human. Live as humans. Duncan would never find us. He wouldn’t dare attack anyway if it risked exposure.” Her excitement rose as she spoke, evident in her voice. A life away from all the drama that came from werewolves suddenly seemed beautiful.
“Live as humans…” Wyatt tried out the words in his mouth.
“We could get jobs.” She smiled.
He gave a little chuckle and a smirk. “I don’t need a job.”
After a moment of confusion, she recalled something she had read in his file – it seemed like years ago. After his parents’ death, Wyatt had inherited Maddox Industries, a small but widespread company that made electronics or something. She hadn’t really found it worth remembering when she was planning how to kill him.
“Alright,” he said. “Seven days here, and then off to…Montreal.” Clara thought her face would split in half as her grin spread. She doubted she would be able to sleep with so much excitement – and the lingering feeling of a threat just outside of their tent.
She leaned forward and kissed him softly, shutting her eyes and allowing him to roll her on top of him with a laugh. She pulled back slightly.
“Better start practising your French.” She teased.
“Bon soir.”
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Eight chapters left! I think. Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought :)