Walking with Werewolves by Chelsea McGinley

Author:Chelsea McGinley [McGinley, Chelsea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781663247575
Publisher: iUniverse
Published: 2023-01-22T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

I blink awake to the grey light of dawn. Zev is still wrapped around me, his heat filling my body. His breathing is deep and even against my back, telling me he’s asleep. It’s the first time he’s slept in the last forty-eight hours, so I do my best to stay still and not wake him.

For a long time, I doze on and off, enjoying the warmth and the smell surrounding me. It feels like almost an hour before Zev begins to stir. He shifts a little and then I feel him freeze. I think he forgot I was here. “Shit,” he swears softly.

“Sorry,” I mumble, moving to stand.

“No, not you.” I stop, still sitting on the ground beside him. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.” He explains, pushing up to a better sitting position.

I look at him like he’s daft because he must be. “You’ve been up for two days straight. You were bound to fall asleep at some point.”

Seeming to realize just how close we are, he stands and begins gathering things. “It’s basic training; Always be alert.”

I get up and help him gather everything. It seems he emptied my pack at some point and laid everything out to dry. “Well, now you can be extra alert for whatever today brings.” I come to my parents’ journals and suck in a sharp breath.

Zev is immediately braced for attack, knife in hand. “What? What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, trying to swallow back my tears. “Sorry, it’s nothing.” They’re ruined. Most of the pages disintegrated from the water. The writing was washed out of those pages still intact.

He relaxes. “They were important.” It’s more of a statement than a question.

I nod. “They belonged to my parents.” I let out a long, shaky sigh, reminding myself they’re objects before setting them aside.

“I’m sorry.” His gentle tone has me wondering where Zev has gone and who this imposter is.

I clear my throat and continue picking up my gear. “We should get moving.” Moments later, we’re on the trail again. My boots are soggy, and I’m still dressed in Zev’s clothes, but at least I’m at a normal temperature again.

“Thank you for last night,” I say. He doesn’t answer. Maybe no one ever taught him how to accept thanks. “How did you know how to get out? And how to get my temperature back to normal?”

“Langley.” Back to one-word answers and overwhelming silences.

“Was it part of your training?”

“No.”

Grr! He makes it so hard to get to know him. He seemed so open for a brief window and now he’s closed himself off again. He could expand just a bit. “So, what exactly is Langley to you?”

He stops to give me a look that suggests I should know the answer to that question. “He is my pack.” Not part of his pack, his whole pack. It looks like we’re both trying to rescue what’s left of our tiny families.

The sun tells me it’s nearly ten when Zev stops abruptly. He tilts his head, listening. “We’re close,” he tells me quietly.

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