BY THE NEXT MORNING Mutter’s fever was back along with body aches. He’d been sick before but nothing like this. The pain was unbearable and it went on for days. The evenings were the only thing keeping him sane. Sweet would bathe him with cool water, her hands a haven from the agony. She’d feed him soup which he’d eat for her and then she’d curl up next to him and tell him stories from her days at the grocer’s or from her past. Usually, she’d fall asleep and he’d stare into the darkness, focusing on her breathing to keep the pain at bay, but tonight the moon was full and he wasn’t hurting as badly. His hand skimmed up and down her back. She snuggled closer. He loved her. He’d never thought he’d love anyone. He struggled with the words. He was strong. He could do this. He would do this. He’d be stronger than even he thought he could be, for her.

“I have to leave. It isn’t safe for you if I stay.”

She stiffened. Her silence was a stab to his heart, but he’d done the right thing. She pulled away and his arm clasped her tight, unable to let her leave.

“Let go.” Her claws came out, digging into his wrist.

As far as pain went, it wasn’t much, not compared to what he’d been going through. He should release her, but he couldn’t. She clawed him on the side, catching a tender spot and he gasped. His hold loosened and she scurried away but he snatched her around the waist, pulling her to him, her back to his front.

“Don’t be mad,” he said. “I have to go. You know that.”

“Then leave.” There were tears in her voice.

“Come with me.” His lips brushed against her ear. He hadn’t meant to say the words, although they’d danced through his head every time he’d considered leaving. Now they were out in the open.

“Really?” She stopped struggling.

“I understand if you don’t want to.” It was asking a lot from her to abandon her home and travel with him.

Somehow, she spun in his arms and her lips were on his, kissing him. His hand dug into her hair, adjusting her to his needs.

“Is that a yes?” He murmured against her mouth.

“Yes. Definitely, yes.” She playfully slapped his chest.

He leaned on an elbow. “It will be dangerous.”

“No, it won’t.” Her fingers stopped his protest. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Really?” He hadn’t expected that. Now, he couldn’t stop from smiling. “Since when?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She blushed slightly. He leaned down for a kiss but she pushed him away. “Pay attention. I’ve been hoarding some food, the stuff that doesn’t rot.”

“Won’t you get caught?”

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“No. The grocer allows me a certain amount. I’ve been eating some of the stuff I’m supposed to throw away.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Now, stop distracting me.”

“What did I do?” He acted offended but he was thrilled that he had distracted her enough for a kiss.

“We can leave in a few days, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“We can go tomorrow. I’ll make it.” He’d force himself. Every day that he stayed put her in danger. The Guards may not be hunting him but Ableson and Conguise would be.

“No. I need a little more time. We’ll leave at dusk and head to the Lake of Sins.” She sat up, almost trembling with eagerness. “We’ll be safe there. Everyone avoids the place.”

He’d heard stories of the Lake of Sins, every child had, but the place held a fascination for her. She and Anna had read everything that they’d found about the area, including the history of the town. It seemed like a pleasant place if you could ignore the superstitions. “It’ll be perfect. We can swim and run through the woods, eating what we catch. I love the water.” He kissed her.

Her fingers ran into his hair and then down his back. “I hate the water. You’ll have to swim on your own, but I’ll hunt with you and prepare what we kill. I want to learn how to cook.”

“I’ll build you a house with a kitchen. Anything you want.” He winced as her fingers trailed over his ribs.

She examined his skin where her fingers had touched. “I cut you. I’m sorry.”

There were four thin gashes on his chest. He didn’t recall her cutting him or even touching him there. She leaned down and kissed the wounds. He didn’t remember much after that.

Mutter’s fever didn’t return, but the headaches did. Even the slightest light made him almost scream in pain. He’d bury his head in the blankets and pray for the dark. He was always better at night. Once they left, they’d have to find a place to camp for the day. He would not be able to travel in the light. This sickness could not last much longer. He had to get better, for her.

He was dozing on the blankets, counting the time until evening when the bells over the door chimed and his eyes flew open. He sniffed. The professor was here. He staggered to his feet, still naked. He leaned against the wall as he moved across the room. She’d brought him clean clothes but he hadn’t been well enough to use them. He braced himself against the sink as he pulled on his pants. He grabbed the shirt and stumbled to the door. He rested his head against the frame, listening. The professor was chatting with the grocer. Every word was clear. Conguise was looking for his lost Guard.

Mutter wanted to let Sweet know why he was leaving, but there was no time. He’d return tonight, when it was safe. He left the room and crept out the back door, the sunlight hitting him in the face and sending pain slicing through his head. He dropped to his knees, chest heaving as if he’d run for miles.

“The professor said you’d be here.” Laddie, one of Conguise’s Guards, grasped Mutter under the arm.

He looked up into Laddie’s sad, brown eyes. “Please, let me go.”

“We can’t.” Laddie pulled him to his feet as two other Guards surrounded him.

Instinct surged through him. Trapped. Danger. Flee. Fight. Sentences no longer formed in his mind, just words and red hot, burning pain. He lashed out, his fist connecting with Laddie’s jaw and sending the older Guard stumbling backward. He spun around, hitting the other Guards. They all went down and he ran. He was almost to the alley when something jabbed him in the back. He kept moving. He’d get to the forest, the water. Lose his scent. Come back for Sweet later. He stumbled, his legs rubbery. He collapsed, his face hitting the ground. Footsteps approached and stopped by his head.

“Professor, he’s still awake,” said Ableson. “I don’t understand. I gave him the same dose that we used on the others.”

Another set of footsteps. Male hands ran over his chest, searching, studying. They lingered on his side, the scratches. He gasped as pain passed through the numbness.

“He’s been without the stabilizer for over two weeks. The transformation has progressed faster than in any of the others,” said Conguise. “Give him another shot. We can’t have him waking up on the way back.”