Page 27 of Captive Wilderness
Again, the shadows shifted in the window. The swim hadn’t helped get her scent out of my head. It clung to me, or had become a permanent fixture in my brain. Either way, I couldn’t escape it.
Going inside the cabin right now was a bad idea.
I stood, shook the water off, and dragged the last body along the shoreline toward the boat. Using the other tactical knife, I cut his clothes off since they were plastered to him. No ID on this guy either, only a water-logged cell that was totally dead. I tossed it with the other shit, then checked his neck. He didn’t have one of those clips. Probably because he was human. I was pretty sure those things were meant to control shifters, some modification of the collar.
One by one, I hefted the bodies over the bow of the boat, balancing two on either side. I didn’t want their blood to drip in the bottom, to be reminded of their stench every time I went out on the lake.
I redressed, untied the boat, and climbed inside. I grabbed a paddle from underneath the seat and backed away from the dock until I was in deeper water. Two yanks of the motor’s cord, and it roared to life. I turned the tiller and angled the boat away from the cabin.
One last glance over my shoulder, and I saw Brooke standing on the porch. I looked away, hating myself for the past twenty-four hours. What I wouldn’t give for a do-over right now. But do-overs were for kids, and I’d long used up any of them I’d had.
A strange sensation tugged at my chest, instructing me to turn around, a thin strand ofsomethingthat told me Brooke continued to watch. I focused on the water in front of me.
Muskeg, the northern swamp, was unpredictable. It could look like it was a foot deep but be six instead. I’d had an incident due to that a couple years ago. About five kilometers from my cabin, there was a section full of reeds. I’d thought it a couple feet deep, but when I’d jumped out of my boat, I’d gone in over my head. I navigated my way there now.
My lake ran into another, and I slowed the boat for the reeds that separated them, needing to use my paddle when they got too thick. Not a good idea to get the motor all tangled up. Once through, I kept going, angling north to the next lake, sticking near the shoreline so I wouldn’t bottom the boat out on the rocks that often hid just below the surface.
A few minutes later, I entered another section of reeds. This one didn’t lead to a lake but transitioned into muskeg. I killed the motor and tilted it partially out of the water so it would stay clear of the reeds. Quiet surrounded me. Bugs buzzed, a few birds chirped, but otherwise, it was peaceful. I took out the paddle and rowed. When I arrived close to the spot I’d been to before, I set the paddle on the bottom of the boat.
Rubbing my face, I glanced around. The other part of this place that worked for this particular situation were the rocks. There were a lot of loose, big ones on the shoreline.
I pushed the cougar’s body into the water with my foot. It slid in with a quiet splash. Taking off my clothes again, I jumped over the side of the boat and into the frigid water. Since it was shallow, it wasn’t quite as cold as my lake, but it was murky. Already I’d lost sight of the cougar beneath the waterline. But I couldn’t afford to assume the body would stay under.
Zoning in on a rock that looked about twenty or thirty pounds, I swam to the shoreline, then waded when it got shallow. With effort, I wiggled the rock out of its sludgy home in the mud and moss, then carried it back toward my boat. When the sandy lakebed gave way to deeper waters, I hefted it, throwing it as close to where the cougar’s body submerged as I could.
Then I dove underwater, slaloming through the reeds to find both the rock and the body. My hand touched fur. I surfaced, took another breath, then pushed the body down as far as it would go. It took me a minute to find the rock. I rolled it toward the cougar, then lifted it onto its center mass. Satisfied that it wouldn’t budge, I surfaced for gulping breaths of air.
Close to an hour after I’d left the cabin, I’d done the same thing with the three other bodies. No one came out here. No one would find them. And now no one flying over would see anything suspicious. Fish would have a fine feast in this peaceful resting place. It was more than these fuckers deserved.
I clambered into the boat dripping wet, shivering, limbs numb from the prolonged exposure to cold water. Leaning back against the bow, I once again spread my arms wide and let the sun warm me.
When I was dry enough, I got dressed and rowed, easier going now without the added weight of the bodies. As soon as I was out of the reeds, I lowered the motor and started it.
A nagging sort of urgency crawled inside my stomach. I’d been away from my mate too long. She could need me or want something. Or she could be in danger. I hadn’t made sure she had eaten. I needed to take care of her—
Fuck.My instincts were getting annoyingly insistent. The desire to make the world right for her in every way possible overrode all other thoughts. I was driven to take care of her, a sensation that burned in my chest so hard my breastbone ached.This is insane.
As soon as the cabin came into sight, I slowed. I shouldn’t go back inside. I was liable to jump Brooke as soon as I caught whiff of her scent again. But I also needed to make sure she was okay. How could I do both?
I pulled up to the dock, secured the boat’s rope to the post, then jumped out a moment later. The dead fuckers’ pile of clothes was where I left it. I would burn it all later and make sure to bury what didn’t turn to ash.
Something glinted in the sunlight close to the cabin, making me pause. I walked toward it, then stooped down. A remote. It was active, a frequency gauge bleeping red. This was for Brooke’s collar.
I thought of my initial design, the one I’d given Landon to develop properly, to save those who’d gone rabid instead of putting them down. My cousin wouldn’t have employed the fuckers I’d buried, would he? He might have turned into a rich asshole, but he wouldn’t use an asshat swat team to abduct someone. I stared down at the remote. My design had never included a remote. There was something else going on here, and I’d need to talk to Landon to figure out what it was.
But now that I had this remote, I could free Brooke.
My heart thumped hard in my chest and my feet moved toward the door of the cabin. I barged in, startling her where she stood by the sink. She spun around, clothed in my T-shirt and sweats. Her fingers gripped the counter behind her. Her eyes were wide, her breathing rapid.
Her scent slammed into me, hot and heavy, intoxicating. I wanted to bury myself in that scent and never leave. Instead, I made myself stand perfectly still, not advancing toward her like I needed. Not bending her over the counter so I could take her again like I wanted.
I opened my palm and stretched the remote toward her.
When she saw what I held, her hand flew to her collar. “You can get it off?” There was so much hope on her face, it almost hurt to look at her.
I gave her one nod and gestured to the table, trying to breathe through my mouth so her scent wouldn’t turn me back into the beast.
She hesitated a second, then pulled out a chair to sit. The closer I moved to her, the more the mouth breathing thing wasn’t working. Her scent had overtaken my cabin, and now it was overtaking me.
