He stopped occasionally, forcing her to brace herself or teeter on tiptoe to avoid plowing into his back. And every time, Mal reached back to steady her.
By the time they reached the edge of the parking lot, her nerves were shot. She didn’t like feeling clumsy. She wasn’t clumsy. She did yoga and took her kickboxing classes regularly. But doing yoga in studio or kickboxing in the gym hadn’t pr
epared her for running for her life. And the voice in her head, the one she was beginning to recognize as her wolf, was certain that was the case.
She did her best to follow Mal’s example. She moved when he did, breathed when he did, and tried not to act like she was on the verge of a panic attack. When they reached the cover of the woods, he stopped.
“Your heart’s racing,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry?” she squeaked.
He turned to face her then, his hands clasping her shoulders. “Controlling your fear takes time. You’re doing great.”
“I am?” she asked, stunned.
He nodded, rubbing her shoulders. His gaze wandered beyond her to the truck stop and its blindingly bright parking lot. Snow was falling, carpeting everything in white.
“Are we safe?”
His grin was tight and his voice was low. “That’s always the question.”
She stepped into him. “Mal? Are we?”
He glanced at her. “Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Close them,” he repeated.
She did, instantly.
“Concentrate—tell me if what you felt is gone.” His voice was low and deep, lulling her into submission. “Are we safe? Or are they still here?”
Olivia stood still, but her mind was racing.
“Focus. Take slow deep breaths and concentrate.” His breath stirred the hair by her ear, his heat was at her back, one hand resting on her stomach. “Don’t overthink this. Just listen.”
Focus. On Mal. His warmth, his touch, the even brush of his breath at her temple. But getting lost in him wasn’t what he was after. And even though she appreciated the comfort he offered, she’d never had much luck relying on people. Focus.
She heard the snow falling.
The gears of a truck shifting.
A bell? The truck stop door opening.
People talking. Inside. Not just people.
Something else. Something different.
The newcomer’s heartbeat was a little faster, a little stronger than the others. A wolf.
“Inside,” she whispered. “Just one?”
His hand pressed her back against him, blanketing her in warmth. “Little things like scent, pulse, and breathing are important. Sweat is more potent—sour—with stress. Pulse is strong and rapid when hunting. When breathing is shallow and rapid, chances are they’re hunting a scent.”
Olivia listened again. “Shallow breathing.”
“He’s still looking,” he said. “Let’s keep moving.”