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telling him.
    Ryan wouldn’t tell anyone. Who the hell could he trust with  something like this? And if he did reveal his secret and proved it by  somehow managing to transform on his own―and he was still having  a hard time figuring out how he was going to do that―he would be  the one getting locked away, to be studied like an animal. Then the  authorities would come for the people here.
    Even if he didn’t let the world know about this strange secret that  it had yet to discover, he would be reporting the murder of an officer,  an officer that Blasius had admitted they had already buried

    38                            Marcy Jacks
    somewhere on the land. There would be police, detectives, forensics,  reporters, and everything in between snooping around here for  months. Someone would find something that would place the blame  on the people here. Or worse, someone would become a wolf, right  when a news camera or something was pointed at them.
    Ryan couldn’t tell anyone anything. So what the hell was he  expected to say when he got back home? Decker was dead, and he’d  been missing for weeks. If he showed up with no explanation…
    Suddenly, Ryan realized the thing that Blasius had been trying to  gently tell him.
    He was stuck here. There was no going back. Ryan was officially  a supernatural outlaw.
    Ryan shot to his feet. “I can’t stay here.”
    Blasius stared into the fire, his fingers laced together. “There are  other packs that will have ye, if that is yer wish, but there’ll be no  going back to the human world for ye.”
    He’d just gotten out of that cage. Being told what to do now was  not something that Ryan wanted to deal with. “Fuck you. I’m going.”
    “Rhyan,” Blasius said, rolling the   R   in his name like he usually  did.
    “No! I’m leaving!” And he did. Ryan turned around and shot out
    of there before the other man could so much as jump to his feet.
    “Rhyan!” he heard screamed behind him.
    Yeah right, like he was going to turn around. He didn’t care if
    they hunted him down and killed him, didn’t care that he wasn’t being  rational. He needed to get away, back to where everything in the  world was normal again.
    Even though he was running naked and barefoot, that didn’t  hinder his speed. It was like there were no rocks or twigs beneath him  as he ran. No pine needles stabbing him or pinecones crunching under  his feet.
    They were there, he felt them, but they did not hurt him or pierce his skin, and Ryan pumped his arms and legs, going as fast as he

    Taken by the Alpha Wolf                       39

    could, faster than the wind, until the trees were a blur as he whipped
    by them.
    Even though he could still hear Blasius calling behind him,  meaning that he was hardly outrunning the other man, Ryan began  to―dare he say it?―enjoy himself. The run became less about escape  and more about the wind in his face.
    He had to shake himself, and that cost him. He stumbled over the
    root of a tree protruding out of the ground, quickly caught himself,  and then started running full force again.
    “Rhyan! Come back!”
    The pain he heard in the other man’s voice was nearly enough to  make him stop, and again, he had to fight against the urges within him  that practically commanded him to do just that.
    What the hell was wrong with him? He wanted to get out of here.  He didn’t want to take a cleansing run, and he didn’t want to go back  to Blasius, no matter how much his legs fought him on that one.
    He scented water and then began running toward it. There was a  river near here. It ran along the town of Brampton. If he found it and  followed it, eventually Blasius would be forced to stop and let him go,  or else be forced to follow him naked into town, and wouldn’t that
    make a sight?
    Actually, Blasius might very well do just that, if he was as  determined as Ryan thought he