Escaping Death
Chapter 52

Alright that’s the end of my apology chapter-dump.

49-52 are now up for your reading pleasure.

<3

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Ace

The waterfall behind her feeds into the lake she’s floating in, and around it are several smaller pools filled with water of varying degrees of opacity. Some look like lake water while others look like pure mud. Eli strips down to his boxers with lightning speed and runs full tilt into the water before diving in to cover up his stumbling.

He swims towards her like a shark to blood which she immediately catches onto and scurries away out of his reach. He ends up chasing her back up to shore where she clambers out of the water barely missing him grabbing onto her ankle.

She’s so focused on taunting him and celebrating not getting caught that she bumps into Dean and nearly falls flat on her ass, but he catches her before that can happen.

“Careful, Sunshine. You really shouldn’t swim in your clothes, it’s not safe. Wouldn’t want you getting cold.” Dean says it playfully but that’s just to cover how much he actually means what he says. But he’s right. The drag of her clothes will fatigue her faster, she’d feel a sharp chill once she got out of the lake that wouldn’t be pleasant.

Plus, I don’t not like the idea of watching her splash around in her bra and panties.

Sol sees through his thin veneer though, she sees the sincerity of his words and she challenges him right back. “These are thermal springs, they’re naturally heated. Plus, there’s something about me that I haven’t told you yet.”

She fusses with her hands, bites her bottom lip, and looks up at him with big doe eyes. And he melts into them hook, line, and fucking sinker.

Tate and I share a look because we both know she’s too sassy to actually be this forthright with secrets, especially ones that pertain to her. No. She’s fucking with him.

“Dean…I…I’m a dragoness. I literally radiate heat.” Dean snorts, leaning back with rolling eyes not believing that he fell right into her trap. Sol is beside herself with glee, she hangs onto his arms and continues with her act. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Ace, come get your mate before I throw her back in the lake,” Dean calls to me with an embarrassed grin.

“Aw, Dean. Don’t be like that,” Sol’s giggle dies in her throat when Dean snatches her around the waist, takes off into the sky, and just as he promised he releases her thirty feet above the center of the lake. It’s just high enough in the air that she can’t open her wings in time to slow her fall, but that doesn’t matter because she never does hit the water. Tate swoops in and scoops her up before so much of a toe could breach the surface.

Tate delivers her directly in front of where I’m standing. He’s exceptionally pleased with himself, like he’s retrieved something precious to me and he knows it, he knows how important it is to me even if I’ve never said it aloud. Because that’s what Tate does, he picks up on everything. He reads you like an open fucking book. People think that’s why he keeps to himself, because he’s so busy assessing the scene to interact with anyone when really it’s because he’s so intent on proving he can manage on his own that it bleeds into his relationships as well.

But with Sol he’s different. In fact, with her they’re all different. Happier.

That feeling I had when I was with Hunter and Tate returns, the one where I’m just as possessive as I am turned on by watching them with her, and I have to adjust myself before anyone takes notice.

“Booo!” Eli heckles Tate for coming to her rescue

I reach down to the hem of her shirt but her warm hands hold mine in place. “I can swim fine with my shirt on,” she says softly. Her tone may suggest she would prefer it on but I swear her eyes are asking for permission. Even though we haven’t spoken much about how our bond affects us, there’s no denying that it does. And right now my wolf is chuffed at how much she’s feeling and listening to our bond.

Again, my issue is not with her wearing a bra in the water. Cataloging her curves and studying her ink is absolutely no hardship on me. Her toned abs peeking from beneath her shirt as I lift it over her head remind me of the life that may be growing inside of her. She lifts her shirt up and over her swollen breasts, which are beginning to spill over the cups of her bra.

Fuck. It could be nothing, or it could be that she’s pregnant. In which case they all need to stop tossing her like a rag doll.

My hands skim up the sides of her ribs and I can’t stop myself from running my thumb along the side of her breast. She winces slightly at the pressure and my expression hardens protectively, “no more rough housing. That’s not a request.”

Sol shimmies out of her leggings, presses herself up against me with her hands on my chest, and breathes out “yes, Asshole.”

This fucking girl.

The first time she said that to me in the parking lot at the mall I almost blew my cool at what a defiant hellion she was, but now when she says it I’m struggling to keep myself from pinning her up against a tree and marking her as mine.

The sound of laughter and splashing helps break me from my exercise in self restraint. Tate and I sit on the grassy bank watching the three of them swim and float. Soon we’re all relaxed, our defenses down from high alert.

It’s not a bad way to spend an afternoon. I can see why Solana likes it here. It’s quiet, secluded, peaceful. Everything our lives aren’t.

As the sun begins its downward trajectory towards the horizon, they begin climbing the rocks beside the waterfall, scuttling across the rock ledge in front of the falls, and then jumping into the water below. It’s not too high up, they’re clear of the rocks, and luckily, unlike Eli, she’s not doing backflips or jack-knives into the water making my stomach lodge itself in my throat.

What does alarm me is the panicked shriek that skips across the lake like a stone reaching my ears just in time for me to look up and notice that Sol has vanished.

— — —

Hunter

I miss her the instant she’s out of my reach, taking her warmth with her. She tucks in behind Ace on his bike and after a quick word between them they take off for the week.

I have my instructions and enough data from Tate to keep up our search of Nightshade, starting with looking through the autopsy reports from suspected Nightshade victims and then getting my hands on any traffic cam or security footage to see if that gives us any more leads.

I dive into the work as soon as they’re out of view. I have to stay occupied or else I’ll drown in thoughts of her and what they’re doing and how her colony is treating her.

An hour after they’ve left, my phone pulses with a text from Dean letting me know they’re safely in the Grove heading down for lunch.

I don’t know if I’m more jealous that they’re home with my girl, or that they get to eat Lucy’s cooking. She’s a culinary expert and there’s not a single bite of her cooking that doesn’t taste better than the last.

Deciding to fuck with Ace a little, I run up to his room and sprawl out on his bed. I snap a pic of me in his bed and text it to the group with the caption “wish you were here.”

It’s meant for Sol, but Eli is the one who responds first with “aww, me too.”

Then after him Sol writes, “me three.”

Heat rushes from my chest out to the tips of my fingers at her admission. It’s hard to lay in this room and read her words without getting a hard on from the delicious memories made in here.

Last week was incredible. Even with Ace there I didn’t care, as long as I got to play a part in taking care of her I’d take what I could get.

Running my hands down my face I manage to peel myself off the bed and out of his room and back downstairs before I lose my fragile control after just the first hour of the first day they’re gone.

It’ll be a long four days.

Back downstairs I throw myself into the police reports of dozens of murders trying to sort out which ones could have been Nightshade. Another hour has slipped by when I get another text notification.

I check my phone immediately, smiling to myself in anticipation that it’s one of the guys with an update — or better yet a text directly from her. But the message is from a private number and the content freezes the blood in my veins.

Private: Do you trust your pack with your life?

Following the message is a picture of a piece of paper with my name on it in Tate’s handwriting. Next to it is another slip of paper like a sales receipt dated last Friday.

It’s a hit order.

If this text is to be believed, then Tate solicited none other than Nightshade to kill me.

The rational part of me knows, or believes, that I can trust these guys with my life just as they trust me with theirs. But I can’t tune out that small voice in the back of my head pointing out that Tate didn’t need to put my name down to make this work, that if he had a plan that involved me he would have told me.

Right?

My phone buzzes again.

Private: Do you trust them with her life?

My hands tremble like leaves in the breeze so badly that I can hardly type anything coherent in response.

I know Tate has been poking the bear in the Underdark, and perhaps he poked too far, but why didn’t he say anything?

Can I trust them with my life?

Objectively speaking, if he or they wanted me dead or to hurt Solana, there’s no better way than orchestrating a reason to separate us and leave me behind at home for a few days.

After everything they’ve done for me I don’t want to doubt them. I should give Tate a chance to explain before I jump to lethal conclusions. But there’s no way I can trust this conversation over the phone, and safety is simply not a risk I’m willing to take when it comes to Solana.

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