A couple of human women in the parking lot were screaming in terror. Harper tossed one last look over her shoulder at the restaurant before she bunched her muscles and spread her wings. Leaping into the air, she caught the wind, and with powerful thrusts of her wings, she was airborne. Harper was grace in motion.
“She’s leaving, man.” There was a tinge of panic to Ryder’s voice.
Wyatt blinked hard. He’d been so enamored with her Change he’d lost all logic. “What?”
“She’s leaving!” Aaron shoved Weston’s shoulder and bolted for the door. “Come on!”
“Shit,” Wyatt gritted out as realization slammed into him. He sprinted out of the restaurant where the gravel grit was kicked up in a cloud from her take-off. “Harper!”
As if she could hear the ragged desperation in his voice, she beat her wings faster, lifting up and up, aiming for the thick cloud cover coming in from the south. No, no, no. Weston grabbed his arm and shoved him toward his truck as he passed. “Get in!”
Wyatt climbed into the passenger’s seat, Aaron and Ryder in the back, and in a moment, Weston was peeling out of the parking lot, headed in the direction Harper had taken off. The smell of Wyatt’s own fur and the rubber from the skidding tires as Weston took a sharp left was suffocating.
“Do you have eyes on her?” Weston asked, squinting through the front window.
“She broke the clouds,” Wyatt muttered, eyes on the dark shadow of her outline. Dammit, Harper.
“I lost her,” Ryder said from where he was hanging out the back window.
Weston slammed his fist on the steering wheel and hit the gas even harder. “She’s fucking running.”
“I shouldn’t have asked her—”
“Stop it,” Aaron gritted out from the back seat.
“I shouldn’t have! We were building something! I pushed too hard too fast. At least I had a part of her back. Fuuuck!” Wyatt yelled out the window, the curse tapering to a roar. He wouldn’t be okay losing her now. Not after last night. He hadn’t bitten her, no, because he wanted to take things slow for her. He wanted to be patient so he could keep her. But claiming mark or no, she was his. Always had been. And now she was bolting.
He deserved it.
Wyatt scrubbed his hand down his jaw. He wasn’t used to it without a beard, but he’d shaved for her because he didn’t want to hurt Harper when they kissed. She was soft and perfect, and he’d been too rough against her last night. He’d stayed up, unable to sleep after they’d been together. He’d watched her for hours, watched the red rawness fade from her cheeks and swore he would hurt her less next time. He’d shaved because he thought they had more time together. Stop thinking like that. You’ll find her.
“If you’re going to Change, give me some warning,” Weston ground out. “This is a new truck.”
“I won’t.”
“You smell like a damn bear—”
“I won’t! Just get us to the house. Maybe she went back there.”
The boys didn’t answer, though, and it curdled his stomach that they knew her better than he did. They’d stuck with her in her adult years. If they thought she was gone, she probably was.
Wyatt ground his teeth and held onto the oh-shit bar of the truck as Weston took a corner and nearly went up on two wheels. Gravel spewed behind them and tink-tinked against the metal bed.
Twenty minutes. It took twenty minutes to get from the parking lot of Lottie’s Burger Bonanza to his cabin, but it felt like an hour. Every second his heart pounded harder with the desperation to get to Harper. He would take it all back, all his plans. He could give her something simple. Date her until she was comfortable, and then someday a claiming mark. She didn’t have to be alpha, or adhere to the pressure of this plan he’d set in motion. He’d fucked up and piled it on her too soon. She wasn’t like she used to be. She wasn’t the same girl who had practiced baseball until she outplayed the rest of them and earned captain. He’d been a fool to forget everything she’d been through that had shaped her into someone different. Into someone scared of letting the people she loved down. He got that. Wyatt had been a professional at letting people down.
Weston’s truck went airborne over the last hill in front of his cabin, and he slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop in the yard.
Harper’s rental car was gone. “No,” he murmured, stumbling from the cab of the truck. He searched the clearing, linked his hands behind his head and repeated his denial. “No.” She didn’t go. She couldn’t have. Wouldn’t have. She wasn’t like him. Harper was loyal and strong and didn’t run out of fear. She’d proved that much when she’d gone after the vampires who were beating the shit out of him that first night.
She wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.
He sprinted for the cabin, threw open the door, and stumbled over the pallets the boys had slept on last night. His bedroom smelled strongly of Harper’s dragon, smoke, the salt of tears, and her shampoo. But her luggage was gone.
Wyatt bolted for his closet and threw open the door, scanned it for her bag because he just couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t fathom her exiting her life like this.
With a feral snarl, he grabbed his truck keys from the hook by the front door and strode outside for his ride. The boys were standing around looking haunted, eyes tracking him as he passed, but let them think what they like. “I have to bring her back.”