A Crown of Blood

Chapter 3

Run.

Run.

RUN.

The singular command echoed through my mind like a siren. My whole body burned. I didn't know where to go or how to get there, only that I needed to get the fuck out of there and fast.

Even in the chill of the autumn day, the afternoon crowd moved like white water rapids up and down Broadway Avenue. Where the movement mirrored those turbulent waters, hoards of clunky tourists dotted the concrete landscape like boulders, disrupting the flow, stopping and ogling and snapping their pictures away right in the middle of everything.

"Excuse me!" I shouted, attempting to break through, nearly dislocating my shoulder when I nicked a bike messenger. "Move!" Their bodies formed tight knots that refused to yield no matter how hard I fought against them. Behind me, I felt Damon move closer and closer until his scent invaded my senses.

Tick-tock, Little Wolf.

Sunlight reflected from the glossy silver buildings and onto the street in mini spotlights. She's right here! Come get her!

How did he find me? And so easily?

"You've got tenacity," he said with a click of his tongue. His voice carried over the wind in a way that made it sound as if he were speaking directly in my ear. "I'll give you that."

"Screw you," I bit out.

Melodic laughter followed.

I skidded to a halt at the crosswalk just as the main light turned green and vehicles launched up and down the intersection. A woman to my left shot me a look so dirty, I could practically see the racial slur blinking in her head. A hot dog stand blocked my access to the other walkway. I contemplated jumping over it. I almost did—if the sharp whistle of another wolf didn't echo over the busy street.

Fuck.

This was bad. This was really, really bad. Out of everyone! The alpha?

I whirled around to face the wolf. Barely half a block behind me, my hunter walked with the confidence of a king, every bit of him sleek, pristine, and dangerous. He looked more like a viper than a wolf: pale eyes, jet black hair, alabaster skin, and sharpened edges.

Change, the wolf urged. Change.

I couldn't—not here. I couldn't control the Change, or the wolf, or anything when I turned. 

"I can hear you breathe. I can hear how scared you are, Little Wolf," he said. "Don't be afraid. I promise I won't hurt you."

Yeah, right.

Magic surged in my belly and then died out just as fast. Not this again. Panic colored the edges of my vision hazy and gray. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't—I couldn't—

The wolf's howl pierced through my mind so loud, I was certain the rest of the world could hear her. Vertigo struck next. And then that disjointed feeling as the wolf tried to take control by force, like invisible hands grabbing a hold of me.

"Don't you dare," I gasped. You're going to make it worse! Just like last time! He wouldn't have gotten to me that night if it weren't for the wolf forcing me to change. He wouldn't have my scent. I wouldn't be on the verge of losing everything!

The wolf tried again. I forced her back—just as I always did—to the back of my mind and slammed the door.

Answering my desperation, the crosswalk changed, and just as the automatic voice chanted, "Walk, Walk, Walk," I turned and sprinted down the street. Survival instinct kicked my body into overdrive, launching me down block after block until my legs turned gelatinous. I didn't have much left in me. There was no way I could outrun both of them feeling this way. Especially with my magic and the wolf ready to break loose inside of me.