Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Damn, it’s cold out. Like, really, really cold.
A fact I probably would’ve noticed sooner had I not been in such a foul temper.
I push back the thread of anxiety that starts up about the state of the weather and how stupid I was to go out in it. I’ll make it back to the lodge before my tracks get covered by snow.
Totally.
No problem.
Except…the prints are already getting fainter. I pick up my speed. As panic presses closer, I start to jog.
Have I mentioned I’m not all that coordinated? I trip on something in the snow–a tree root, maybe? –and pitch head first onto my belly.
That part would’ve been fine. Totally manageable. Except I keep sliding. With the snow drift and the white out conditions, I didn’t notice the edge of some kind of gully or ravine, and I’m tumbling, skidding, sliding down into it.
It’s not horrible–not like a cliff. It’s maybe fifteen feet. I pick myself up out of the snow drift and dust myself off. Nothing appears to be broken. I’ll probably be a bit bruised. But I have far bigger problems than bruises. Now I don’t know how to get out of it. The slope is slippery, and I don’t want to hike too far away from where I fell in because my footprints–literally the one thing that’s going to get me safely back to the lodge–are up there.
I can’t lose them.
Dammit!
I try to climb, but for every step I take, I slide right back down.
Oh, fuckity, fuck, fuck.
Okay, stay calm. I will just have to hike out. I will follow it in the same direction the footprints were heading, and maybe if I get lucky, I will find them again when I get out.
Oh dear baby Jesus.
This is bad.
I pat my pockets for my phone, but of course I can remember exactly where I left it. On the dresser in the bedroom. I was so intent on making a flouncy exit, I hadn’t picked it up.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
I don’t like to admit to being scared, but I am rapidly barrelling down that slope. I force my breath to slow and remember the muffin I’d stuck in my pocket when I left. Pulling it out, I stop to take a few bites. I need to get my blood sugar up, so I can think.
There must be something I can do to get myself out of this.
There has to be.
Brick
Fuck.
I give Madison an hour and then go back to the bedroom to try to talk it out with her. I owe her an apology. I can fix this.
Except she isn’t there.
The moment I realize everything is as we left it–the coffee cold on the dresser, her boots and coat gone, I dive into a panic.
Jogging to the kitchen, I find Liz in mid-preparation for tonight’s feast. “Where’s Madison? Did she ever come inside?”
Liz’s eyes round. “She went outside?”
“Dane!” I’m shouting now, running through the halls.
The old caretaker appears, his bushy eyebrows slashed down.
“Madison. Where is she?”
His body tenses with my urgency. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her all day.”
I run through the lodge, shouting for Madison, even though I already know she’s not here.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My voice brings everyone out, my mother included. I ignore that fact. “Madison’s outside in the blizzard. I need you all outside now.”
John, the human pilot is there, too, and I have enough brain cells to shake my head at him. “You stay here in case she returns. Call my cell. You, too,” I tell my mother and Liz.
The rest of us run for the mudroom and start stripping.
“Hold up.” Eagle grips my shoulder.
I whirl ,and my growl shakes the room. Everyone freezes from the alpha roar. By the time I’ve recovered, I realize I’ve shown far too much. I’ve shown everything. My wolf eyes have to be showing.
Eagle persists in that persuasive low tone of his. “Brick. Hold up. You take the snowmobile. You’re no good to her in wolf form. We’ll howl when we find her.”
I hate it. I fucking hate the idea, but I know he’s right.
My need to shift and run and sniff my mate out–
Fuck! She’s not my mate! I don’t know why I thought that. Except the fact that my wolf is riding right at the surface means this is more than an office fling.
Far more.
My need to shift and run is so strong, I can barely hold back. But Eagle’s solution holds logic. I put my clothes back on, don a pair of boots, jacket, gloves and hat and run for the shed where the snow toys are kept.
I push out a snowmobile and look around. Everywhere I look is pure white.
Madison has to be lost. It would be impossible to find your way in this weather. It’s also going to be really fucking hard to track her, even in wolf form. The snow and wind will cover and carry away her scent. Even sound is hard to follow with the wind whipping around so viciously.