Hunted Read Free Page B

dawned on me that he must have leaned across to close the door even as we’d sped away from the trackers. Otherwise, I’d have gone tumbling onto the pavement. The sudden rush of light told me we’d emerged onto the street. I ought to be at least a little worried about where we were going, but it was hard to be when it was all I could do to just breathe.
    “Once we’re safely away from here and you nervous system is no longer lighting up like a Christmas tree, maybe you’d be kind enough to explain why there are trackers working in my territory without permission and why they were after you.”
    There was a bite to his voice that spoke volumes. The part of my mind that still worked latched onto the fact he had identified himself as the local clan leader. Shit. The trackers weren’t the only ones present in his territory without permission. When he found out why I was there--and why the trackers were after me--would he turn me over to them? God, this just kept getting worse and worse and there was not one damned thing I could do about it. By the time my body started working again, it might just be too late.
    There are reasons, good ones, why our laws require us to present ourselves to the local clan leader when we move into a new area. We might not have anywhere near the numbers the normals do, but there are enough of us that our ancestors learned we needed a set of laws to govern us and protect us from detection. In areas where there are relatively large numbers of us, the clans were born. Individual packs and prides merged under the single leadership of the strongest alpha in the region. Even now, the clans are basically autonomous--as long as our laws are followed.
    One of our most basic laws is that a shape-changer must report to the local clan leader upon entering his territory. It is up to the clan leader to determine if the shape-changer can stay or not. I hadn’t heard of anyone being denied permission, at least not in a very long while. Still, I had not reported to any of the clan leaders in areas where I’d lived since leaving home so long ago. I hadn’t wanted to risk them contacting Michael Jennings and telling him where I was. So I’d broken one of our basic laws in order to protect myself and those I cared for.
    Now that lapse had caught up with me. What sort of forfeit would I be forced to pay?
    Damn it, how long would it be before my body started working again?
    I closed my eyes and focused on breathing. It was pointless to worry about anything else until the effects of the taser wore off.
    Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I managed to sit up. I reached for the seatbelt and it felt like I was moving through molasses. Residual pain echoed through me. It was tolerable, at least I told myself it was. But it seemed to be lasting too long, especially since I suspected the leads had been torn out of my back as the Mustang sped away from the trackers. Had they somehow modified the taser so it was more effective against our kind?
    Dear God, that was a terrifying thought. If they’d managed to do that, what else had they done and what else were they willing to do to get their hands on me?
    “T-thank you,” I stammered.
    As I did, I realized we now drove down a neighborhood street. Even though my companion kept a close eye on the rearview mirror, he seemed more relaxed than he had earlier. Had he managed to give the trackers the slip? God, I hoped so. I needed time to recover before facing them again.
    Hell, who was I kidding? I had no desire, and certainly no intention, of facing them any time soon. No, just as soon as I could move without falling on my face, I’d be on my way out of town. I didn’t have to have a destination in mind. All I needed was to put time and distance between us.
    My rescuer glanced at me and nodded. Then he turned his attention back to the road. A short time later, the car slowed and we turned into a driveway. How long we’d been driving, I didn’t know. It might