Denali
I run without thinking. I’ve been hiding so long; my first instinct is to bolt.
The kitchen door slams behind me. Whenever the weather is nice, I keep the doors and windows open to let in the scent of wildflowers. And to alert me to anyone approaching.
But my lioness was sleeping. Or, perhaps she caught the subtle scent of the soldier she once knew and decided not to tell me. Or I ignored it. Too long I’ve carried the memory of Nash, the ghost. I see him in my dreams, wake up with the smell of him hanging over me like a cloud. I eat sleep and breathe Nash, even as I run from him.
That’s what happens when you’re mate marked. You can’t escape. You’re bonded on the deepest cellular level.
Even after they die.
I thought he was dead.
The screen door bangs behind me, and a gust of
