Our feet pound the dirt in perfect unison, each of us in sync with each other. Danae is next to me, having to take two steps for each, and Ray is on my other side. I can't even see Xavier beyond Ray's form, but I can feel his presence. His enchanting scent always tends to make its way to my nose. It's so strong that it almost makes me lose my step, invoking grief and regret through my blood. I can feel his anger, his frustration hammering at my defenses. I shake him off, focusing on the scene before us. An endless expanse of trees is before me, making me wonder when it will end and I will finally have a clear view of the thundering sky. We move much slower than usual, as Danae and I drag the two werewolves down. I can tell this speed is bothering Ray, a frown adorning his features. He looks both scared and angry, fear in his expression. For some reason, I can't bring myself to possess that same emotion. For how am I supposed to be afraid of

"Once we get our food, we must eat it quickly," Xavier warns, careful not to make eye contact with me, "we cannot wait for the council to find us." "How would they know where to look?" I ask in amazement. "All the council members tend to have an excellent sense of smell," Ray says, "if they get an item that has our aroma on it, then they can track us like a pack of bloodhounds. Of course, they can't do that if we're several miles away." "Oh," my eyes widen, "but they'll probably be able to find something! Especially if they take the mansion...my scent has to be on everything I've touched!" Ray looks at me, then examines our surroundings. "It's not safe here," he turns back to us, whispering softly, "we need to find another place to finish our conversation." Xavier follows suit, examining the area. "But where can we go that is completely private?" he expresses his concern.

My bed is soft, but not as warm as I would like. I shiver under the thick covers, tossing and turning furiously. I struggle to get warm, but only the cold embraces me. The desire for a certain man is growing at an alarming rate, as I know that one touch from him would instantly heat up my body with passion. But at the same time, I am afraid of him. A strange sadness and fear runs through my mind as I recall once again his confession, his passionate plea for forgiveness that choked my heart. I tried to rectify our misunderstanding, but he refused to listen. I could tell he was stressed, his eyes full of pain and desolation. He was almost desperate for me, as if I were his bread and water. Just remembering that one look at his sculptural features shamefully brings a small shiver of happiness to my heart. But what is he really desperate for? Is it just so that our union is accomplished, or because he loves me for who I am?

"The headquarters," he said softly, "and it's what you would call a portal. The council has a ton of them scattered around the world, hidden in places called sanctuaries. They can take you anywhere you want to go. This is very useful for werewolves trying to escape some kind of persecution."How can they take you anywhere you want to go when there's only one passage?" I don't see any other tunnels leading to this one, which doesn't mean much since I can hardly see anything."All you have to do is think about where you want to go while you travel through the tunnel and you will come out of the portal at that destination.""You talk too much, Soka," a dangerously deep voice interrupts our conversations, "you shouldn't tell the prisoner all this." I turn around and can barely make out the outline of his face."What does it matter, Zayn? She's not going to last very long at Headquarters. Who cares if I tell her some of our secrets?""We don't. She might get lucky. Ferrars seems to like th

"Please, Mona, wake up. I'm sorry I upset you. A hand strokes my long red hair. "Please wake up," he pleads, his voice cutting through my empty thoughts. As my eyes open, a single message enters my mind. Scotty is a man. A very, very, very handsome man. For some reason, I can't make sense of this statement. "I must be dreaming," I whisper in a shaky voice, "you can't be Scotty. You can't. "But I am," he whispers back, grabbing my fingers and holding them tight. "Here, my name is Griffin, but you can call me whatever you want." His hand moves toward me and I flinch a little as he touches the mark near my hip. The strange thing about this is that it feels completely natural to me. For him to be here. For us to be like this. "I missed you so much, Mona," he smiles, a beautiful expression that leaves me spellbound, "it took every ounce of my strength not to toppl