The Hunger (The Lycans 3)

Besides, I knew I still had a bottle of water in my bag, as well as a couple of energy bars. I’d seen them when he’d given me my backpack earlier. I also had my cell in there, although it was useless right now. Maybe if I got close to a road, it would work, pick up a signal, and I could call someone. Anyone. Hell, I didn’t even know what the equivalent of nine-one-one was in Scotland.

When I found the front door, I stopped for just a moment, my feet feeling like they were filled with lead. I was breathing so hard I swore it filled the entire house, loud enough it was like a thunderstorm.

With one more backward glance toward the dark, seemingly endless hallway where the bedroom was, where my captor—my Lycan mate—slept, I faced forward, opened the door, and silently slipped out.

And then I ran like hell.

23

Darragh

I didn’t know how long I ran, but long enough that I was drenched in sweat, my lungs burning, my almost-healed ankle bitching at me that it still wasn’t one-hundred percent.

I stopped for only a minute, bracing my hand on the tree—ironically enough, the same palm that had been scraped not that long ago but was now fully healed. It was like I was replaying the same situation over again, this time everything I thought I knew about the world completely upside down.

I only gave myself a few seconds to catch my breath before I started moving again. But it was so dark outside, the moon unable to really pierce through the thick canopy of leaves overhead.

“Why can't I have supernatural senses courtesy of this dormant Lycan side?” I mumbled and then immediately felt stupid for even thinking about that part, acknowledging it. Believing that it was true.

Although for as much as I was fighting it, I did believe it. I always felt different, and what Caelan said made sense.

It makes perfect sense. And this is who I am.

Panic over everything had me running now, careless steps, so I wasn’t watching where I was going. My foot caught an overgrown root sticking out from the ground, pitching me forward. A loud gasp left me, and a grunt as I hit the ground.

The pain was instant, but not enough to slow me down. I got back up and started making my way through the forest again, my eyes barely penetrating the darkness. I was sweating, panting, my heart racing, my legs aching. But still I pushed forward.

I didn’t even know how long I’d been running, and even though it felt like an eternity, I knew it probably wasn’t long at all. I expected Caelan to come after me almost instantly, pictured that big wolf chasing me through the woods, tearing down trees with his monstrous body. And deep down, way in the recesses of parts I didn’t even know I had, these wicked desires rose up.

It turned me on to run from him.

I told myself he’d gotten into my head, turned me all around… turned my world upside down with all the revelations.

I should’ve been quiet, but my feet crunched over sticks and leaves, the sound seeming loud as it echoed off the trees. I knew it wouldn’t matter though, not when Caelan could’ve easily scented me like the animal he was. Because I was sweating enough and making enough noise that I was sure even a human with shitty tracking skills could find me.

And then the world was tumbling upside down and sideways as my foot got caught on something else, my body propelling forward. I landed hard enough the air was pushed out of my lungs, so forcefully I wheezed.

I couldn’t stop the groan from spilling from my throat, and as soon as it left me, I heard something to my left, a rustling, definitely footsteps.

And then I heard the sound of a gun cocking.

“Who’s out there?” The voice was deep and very clearly male. The Scottish brogue was thicker too, a little harsher than Caelan’s had been… not as pleasant sounding.

I didn’t move, everything in me saying the stranger was far more dangerous than what I’d been running from.

“I said, who the hell is out there?”

“Don’t shoot,” I whispered, then cleared my throat and said it louder. “Please, don’t shoot.” I pushed myself up and hissed at the sharp pain that rushed up my arm. Finally giving up, I rolled onto my back and looked up through the canopy, seeing slivers of moonlight coming through.

The spear of artificial light came from a flashlight and covered my face, bright enough I squinted and lifted my hand to block it.

“An American?”

I cleared my throat and nodded. “Yeah.” There was another snap of twigs in the distance, and I looked behind me. “It’s not safe out here.” The words were murmured to myself, but it wasn’t fear that had me pushing myself up and standing.