A beast about twice the size of a normal lion stalked across the lawn in front of the dining hall. Its muscles bunched and rolled as it ate up the distance, moving in a way that was unnaturally graceful for something so big. But it was the lion’s eyes that had me transfixed. Like their feline counterparts, lion shifters’ eyes turned varying shades of coppery gold when they were in their beast forms. This lion looked out at the world through glowing red peepers. It had gone rogue. When a shifter was distressed to the point of insanity, it was called going rogue. In that state, they didn’t know friend from foe. All they knew was instinct. A lion shifter had only one instinct: kill.
Its huge nostrils flared. My heart was a drumbeat in my chest. It turned its head in my direction. For a split second, I could see its eyes darting to where the boy had run off. And then it veered and came straight towards me.
4
My body reacted through pure instinct. The hand that had been gripping the gate now shoved it wide open. I bolted inside, not bothering to lock it behind me. To a shifter that size, the fence would be nothing but kindling. Most of the Academy was asleep. The vampires had disappeared. My only shot at making it out of this alive was to get to the other side of the kitchen garden where the emergency flares were kept. Those flares would alert the Nephilim. Too bad for me there was almost nothing between me and an eight-hundred-pound lion.
The crack of wood behind me lit a metaphorical fire in my pants. My feet pelted against the paved bricks in between the raised beds. The kitchen garden was a huge expanse almost the length of a football field. Ironically, it had to be so big because the shifters ate like there was no tomorrow. If I kept going like a straight shot, the lion would be on top of me in seconds. When I got to the end of the row of broccoli, I veered right and zigzagged in between the cauliflower and the snow pea wigwams.
My gut tightened as massive paws thudded against dirt. The lion wasn’t playing by the rules of the garden: No treading on the beds. It was running in a straight line right towards me. Keep off the Bed signs be damned.
I wasn’t even halfway to the other side. Claws scraped against brick so close behind me I could swear the beast was right on my heels. My calves were burning something fierce. I pushed the feeling to the back of my mind and lengthened my stride. This just wasn’t going to do. Another couple of seconds and I was going to be lion chow.
My parents were going to kill me for coming to Bloodline only to be eaten by a lion. I mean, how pathetic was that? Everybody was so worried about me turning into my great-grandfather, and it was a shifter that would disrupt it all. The wolves would shake their heads at my funeral.
Didn’t we teach you better than that? Are you just going to roll over and die at the first sign of trouble? It’s just one lion, I could just imagine them saying. No way. No way was I going to give up right now.
The beast snarled. Heat fluttered against the skin on my neck. Oh hell. It was literally breathing down my neck. I braced myself for one last burst of speed. Throwing caution to the wind, I leaped over the bed of winter lettuce. I grimaced as I landed on top of some crispy baby romaine. Turning to the left, I ran my palm across the long border of wild flowers that were magicked to bloom in the depths of the Australia winter. The sweet citrusy scent of the daphne bushes acted like a memory marker. Almost there.
Padded feet stomped just seconds behind. The distinct wet-hair smell of a sweaty beast hit my nose. Rogue shifters tended to burn hot. Just a little farther. My hand swept over the nodding blue flowers of the wolfsbane. I snatched as much of it as I possibly could. At the same time a paw made contact with my hip. The sideswipe had me ricocheting into the lush planting of the long border. An inch closer and he would have gouged out my ribs.
I curled into a ball and braced my arms over my head. My back smashed into the brick wall. The jarring ache splintered across my spine. A cry escaped my lips. The beast stomped its paws on either side me. Fortunately, I had fallen into a huge patch of wolfsbane.
The irritants in the plant were like poison to a shifter. During the full moon, the Academy used a potion made from the plant to keep the shifters calm. But it wasn’t a miracle plant by any means. It was an herb that the earth produced that just so happened to have a calming effect on the shifter species. A rogue shifter would eventually throw caution to the wind. The lion’s top lip curled into a growl as it battered its head against the ground. Nostrils flared with breath so hot it came out as steam in the chill of the night. Slowly, I pushed myself up into a standing position. It was still taller than me. When it peered at me, the lion’s deep red eyes clouded over.
The heavy muscles on its front legs bunched. It was bracing to charge. I drew my hands together and sandwiched the wolfsbane between my palms. Growing up in the compound, I’d had to come up with ways to dissuade the wolves from messing with me. They understood only dominance, and
