I froze. The house creaked behind me, old wood settling, but this was different. These were footsteps. Hasty, uneven, and coming fast.
I straightened, breath catching, and that was when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I fumbled it out, the screen lighting my dirt-streaked hands.
Kit: Get out now.
Kit: Hunters.
Kit: I’m coming. Just hide.
“Crap,” I muttered under my breath.
“There you are.”
The voice came from behind me. I turned slowly, telling myself not to panic. A man stood at the edge of the yard, tall and broad-shouldered, his grin a flash of teeth that didn’t reach his eyes.
He had a stake in one hand, the polished tip gleaming like he’d been waiting for this moment all his life.
“You don’t look that strong,” he said conversationally. “Guess Marcus was right. You won’t be much fun to play with.”
I didn’t wait to answer. Instinct took over. I turned and ran.
He was fast. Hunters always were. I barely made it three steps before he slammed into me from behind, knocking the air from my lungs as we hit the ground.
My phone flew somewhere into the weeds. I struggled, twisting, his weight crushing me down, a hand tangled in my shirt.
He raised the stake. I grabbed his wrist. The sharp edge caught the light, too close.
“I’ve killed plenty of your kind before,” he hissed. “They all beg.”
“Guess you’re not very good at it,” I ground out, shoving upward.
Kit had been donating his blood to me. I was stronger than I’d ever been. Adrenaline and fear also lent me an additional edge. I managed to twist, forcing him off-balance, and we rolled.
Still, the hunter was more experienced in combat. He punched me hard in the ribs. I felt something give and saw stars. The stake came down again.
I caught his arm, forced it aside. We were a tangle of limbs, dirt, and breathless curses.
The stake skimmed my shoulder, slicing shallow, the sting bright and hot. Then a shadow crashed into us from the side, and the hunter went sprawling.
“Get away from him!”
Kit.
He moved like fire. Raw, desperate, all muscle and fury. The hunter tried to rise, but Kit’s fist met his jaw with a sickening crack, sending him down for good.
The stake fell from his hand. Kit kicked it away, chest heaving. I sat there, stunned, half sprawled in the dirt.
Kit turned to me, his expression torn between anger and relief. “Are you okay?”
I nodded weakly. “I think so.”
Kit didn’t wait for me to say more. He hauled me against him, arms wrapping tight, almost trembling.
I felt the thrum of his heartbeat against my chest, the heat of him grounding me in a way nothing else could. Then his lips were on mine, quick and desperate, like he needed proof I was still real.
When Kit drew back, his forehead rested against mine.
“Thank god,” he whispered. “I thought I was too late.”
