Page 55 of Property of Prophet

A laugh almost escapes me. “Don’t tell him that.”

She blinks. “Why?”

“He already knows.”

The corner of her mouth twitches. It isn’t much. For Lily, it’s practically hysterical laughter.

Ranger reaches the edge of the clearing and stops. His nose lifts.

Once.

Twice.

Then every muscle in that massive gray body locks.

Fuck.

He smells it, or rather, he doesn’t. Whatever Heaven used to leave on me is gone. Ranger’s ears flatten, and a growl rolls through the clearing so low I feel it through the floorboards.

Lily’s hand drops instinctively to the rifle leaning against the wall. “Is that for us?”

“No.”

“You sound very sure.”

“I’ve heard Ranger threaten people.”

The growl deepens.

“That isn’t a threat.”

“What is it?”

I swallow. “He’s trying to figure out what the fuck happened to me.”

Then Ranger lowers himself onto his haunches at the edge of the clearing and waits.

My throat tightens. He isn’t waiting for permission. He’s waiting for Blade. Something about me is setting off every instinct he has, and Ranger trusts his president to make the call.

He knows me. That’s the worst fucking part. He knows exactly who is standing behind the glass, and something about me is wrong enough to make a wolf who has trusted me for a long time to wait for his president before coming closer.

Ranger doesn’t move again.

He remains exactly where he is, sitting at the edge of the clearing with his eyes fixed on me, and somehow that stillness unsettles me more than if he’d come charging across the snow. Ranger has always trusted his instincts above everything else, and right now, every instinct he possesses is telling him that something is wrong.

The mountain falls silent. Even the wind seems to lose interest in moving through the trees. Then the snow begins to melt. Not everywhere, just a narrow line weaving its way through the forest to the south.

Steam rises in lazy tendrils as drifts collapse into slush, leaving behind dark earth that hasn’t seen daylight in months. The path widens with every passing second, and I don’t need to see him to know exactly who’s coming.

A smile touches my lips before I can stop it.

“Who’s that?” Lily asks.

“Fury.”

She looks from the melting snow to me. “The name suits him?”

I huff a quiet laugh. “You have no idea.”