My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

Cursing and growling drifted up to Lucas' sensitive lycan ears even with his music playing. He turned down the volume, tilting his head to get a better listen. Was he imagining it? He padded out onto the deck in his bare feet.

Zoe was back to sitting in her chair staring out into the cross section of woods that was visible this high. Her vision had always been very good, and right now she was watching one solitary golden leaf rocking with the breeze, clinging on to its tree in a futile refusal to submit to the season.

It would fall, just like all of the rest of them. Why wouldn't it just let go?

She became aware of Lucas' presence after he stood frozen by the railing, focusing on something below. It was the tension in his body that drew her attention.

"Is something down there?"

"Fuck," he cursed to himself. "It's Andreas."

He heard the girl's breath hitch and become shallow as she drew her legs up into herself—making herself smaller.

"It will be okay. Stay here," he growled as he passed her, grabbing his phone in the living room and placing a call to Graeme on his way to the door.

The other male picked up on the first ring.

"Andreas is here at the treehouse, but for some reason he's pacing down below."

Graeme cursed on the other end of the line and then proceeded to give a brief explanation of Maggie's enchantment. Lucas couldn't help but chuckle. So the elder was stuck, prevented from coming any further.

"Should I go down and confront him?" Lucas asked, poised at the top of the stairs leading around the tree.

"No, Sam and I will be there."

"Oh wait," Lucas pulled the phone away from his ear and listened to the movements of Andreas down below. "He's leaving."

"Well there's only one place he will go. Thanks, Lucas," Graeme grunted before hanging up and turning to his Beta. They were still at Sylvia's, though he and Sam had moved into the front crystal room as soon as Lucas' name came up on the phone.

"Pack house?" Sam asked.

Graeme nodded. "He still practically lives there. There is nowhere else he would go, especially if he failed to retrieve Zoe."

"So he knows she is cooperating with us. What will he do?"

"We're going to have to throw him in the dungeon after all," Graeme growled. "Just so he doesn't get any stupid ideas. Who knows what a cornered Andreas will resort to."

"Greta and August?" Sam's eyebrows shot up in question.

"We can meet them afterwards. It won't take long."

Graeme peered back into the middle room where everyone was still seated and caught his mate's eyes. She was glowing so beautifully in the dim light—like an artist's rendition of some celestial being or goddess set against the night sky. His expression softened, and he tilted his head, gesturing for her to come to him.

She stood, graceful and flowing in her approach, and he had to swallow back the instant desire that arose as she did—his eyes taking in every ripple of movement from the sway of her hips to the swing of her arms… the subtle brush of hair against her cheeks and shoulders…

"What is it?" the soft, searching concern tugged him free of his distraction, and he grabbed her hand to lead her back into the glittering room of crystals and plants.

"Andreas showed up at the treehouse, so he knows Zoe is out and talking with us. We are going to put him in the dungeon just to be safe. It shouldn't take long," the depth carved with his voice sought to shelter and protect—to reassure. 'I am leaving, but not for long. You are safe.'

She seemed to hear that which was deeply felt but left unspoken; despite the news, a small smile curved on her face, and the blush that he loved returned to her cheeks.

"Will you be okay?" she asked, reaching for him and gravitating toward the warmth of his chest, but somehow it was him who was being held and reassured this time.

"Will I be okay?" he chuckled, smoothing her hair and letting his chin rest atop her head. "Do you have your phone?"

She nodded against him.

"We will catch up with you at Ethel and Agnes', but if anything else happens, I'll call you. So don't leave your phone lying in the woods somewhere," he teased. She seemed to always misplace or lose things—like her camera.

She giggled. "Okay. We will be fine."

"You better be fine. You said we would have tonight," he breathed into her hair.

"And we will, Bun," she chuckled and withdrew her heat from him.

After the rest of the females as well as Sage were filled in with the reason for their departure, Graeme and his Beta left to make the short trek to the pack house.

The pack's excitement was palpable as they passed the road to the market. Pups were whooping and laughing, chasing each other with lanterns and wooden horses covered in sheets and eating snacks that would spoil their dinner.

Pumpkins and gourds were piled on hay bails further into the vendor area. There was a scent Graeme picked up that was only ever detectable on these few days surrounding Samhain. Like most scents, it was complicated—the separate origins not easy to parse, but it elicited an excitement in him every time with the nostalgia that accompanied it.

He had been a pup darting around these woods, seeking mysteries and excitement and relishing in the ritual of something sacred that came only once a year. It made the hair on his arms bristle with excitement, regardless of the task that he and Sam were set to complete at the moment. If anything, it actually added to it.

He and Sam were out to track a monster this Samhain—one that he would have never expected. One that had been living amongst them all along.

Saliva pooled in his mouth and a growl puttered in his throat in anticipation.. The hunt was on.