I take a deep breath, standing and drawing myself to my full height to ensure I release the last of the Glamour that keeps me from appearing fully human. There’s no need for that while I hunt in these dark woods. I’m torn between my instincts, which are revelling in the thought of a hunt, and my sorrow at the fact that it’s Niamh I’m hunting.
I listen. She’s running quickly. Too fast to keep it up for long. And I know that won’t be her strategy– it’s not in her nature to run. No, she’s a negotiator by choice. That’s easy to see, although she’s not stupid enough to stand and face me yet. No. She’ll hide, watch, try to turn things around and gain the upper hand with knowledge. Then attempt to persuade me to do things differently. It’s what she’s trained for, after all. But none of that will work against me. I can track her wherever she hides and outpace her in speed. And when I catch her, I’m going to take what’s mine.
Chapter13
Niamh
Idon’t stop to think. I run.
I neither know nor care where I’m headed, as long as it’s away from Cillian– and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m worried that he’s going to kill me or kiss me. My lungs burn as I run through the dark, twisting forest. The air is thick with the scent of pine and fir, and damp, mouldering earth. At first the path is clear, solid underfoot. But the further I run into the woods, the thicker the layer of pine needles ready to slide out from under me and the softer the ground. Branches scrape my face as I stumble over tree roots and my feet catch in tufts of undergrowth. The pounding of my soles on the spongy ground thuds through my body, ragged breath filling my ears, so very loud in the night air, punctuated every so often with the memory of that one word.
Run!
My heart is racing, a combination of the physical exertion and the fear gnawing at my insides. The events of tonight play in my head. Except, not all of my memories are a nightmare.
Aiden carried me in the alley, Vittoria held my chin as she whispered the words I now know were a spell, but after that, every touch has been Cillian’s, every kiss has been Cillian’s. I can’t forget how his tongue demanded entrance to my mouth, the feel of his lips on my skin as he kissed down my throat and the sensations that ran through me as he touched my breasts. The warmth that pooled between my legs as he took what he wanted from me.
Right before he pulled a fucking crossbow on me.
I slap my hand over my mouth, although I guess when you’re running for your life, swearing is acceptable.
The memory of staring at the bolt poised in the crossbow triggers another flight response, and my legs pump harder. It’s darker in this part of the forest. The night sky is no longer visible and my breath clouds in erratic puffs as I run. The mist is growing more and more dense, as if each of my breaths is adding to it and it’s becoming a living thing with tendrils creeping along the ground that I might soon have to jump over rather than run through.
I scream as one foot slides badly on a patch of mud, stones and rotting leaves and I land on one knee for just an instant before I push back to my feet and carry on, a little less confident, and in a lot more pain. I force myself to keep going, my body screaming in protest. Am I running towards safety or deeper into danger? I’m not going to slow down to find out.
And then, suddenly, I break through the treeline, stumbling out of the woods into a barren landscape of gorse and rough, heather-clad ground. Gasping for air, I collapse onto the damp grass, close my eyes, and let out a shuddering breath. Everything hurts, especially my chest, and I don’t feel as if I’ll ever be able to breathe normally again. My palms are scraped, my knees bruised, and all my exposed skin is covered in a tapestry of red lines– scraped by thorns and brambles, and bitten by ever-present midges. Do the little bastards ever stop?
I curl into a ball and focus on simply breathing in and out. In and out, with no idea how long it is before I open my eyes. There’s a little light now in the eastern sky as I stare back into the dark forest, trying to work out if he’s followed me. If I’m still in danger. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself. It’s so cold, now that I’m not running. I know in my heart that it’s pointless anyway. I won’t be able to outrun him forever. He’ll catch me and then…
A shiver runs through me as I remember watching as he pulled the crossbow from behind his back like some kind of slasher-movie psycho. I could have sworn it wasn’t even there just a second before. His eyes… they’d been cold, empty. I’d thought he was going to… I really thought… Panic grips me once more. I can’t wait here. I need to keep moving, keep running, to make sure he doesn’t catch me. Because he’ll kill me if he does. Or will he? I can’t quite get my head around that fact. One thing I am sure of is that he didn’t want to. He killed the deer, when he could have killed me. He’s given me a chance to run. To reach the sanctuary. Wherever that is.
I take a deep breath and try to stand, but my head is still reeling. Instead, I scoot backwards to lean against a tree, my head between my knees, until the waves of dizziness pass. The way he touched me, the way he kissed me, is all I can think about. Why? Why did I let him? But deep down, I know that I would have let him do so much more; I wanted so much more. What the hell is wrong with me?
Cillian is dangerous. I saw that with my own eyes tonight, and yet… And yet, I’m still alive. And it seemed like he was struggling to keep his hands off me. Cillian Hunter, who could have any woman he wanted. I sigh, realising I may just be one of those women. I wonder if he’s killed any of the others? Vittoria, at least is still alive. What on earth have I found myself in the middle of?
Gradually, my breathing slows, the cold and the damp from the ground chilling my flesh. The heat generated from running is slipping away and I shiver. New sounds begin to emerge from the soft rustling of the trees and the gentle babbling of a nearby stream– the scurrying feet of small creatures, the tiny chirps of fledglings in their nests, the insistent chirps of the bats flying erratically around the clearing.
And then a steady rhythmic thud emerges, punctuated by the occasional snap of branches, the deep breaths of a seasoned runner. He maintains his pace even over the uneven ground, so I guess I got that wrong. Not to mention everything else about the Hunters. I stare back towards the forest. The sounds are bouncing off trees, making it hard to pinpoint where he’s coming from. But there is no doubt that he’s coming. He’s tracked me down. And if he’s the hunter, I can only be the prey.
I roll over, tucking myself beneath the jagged branches and bright yellow flowers of a late-flowering gorse. My breath catches at the pain when I roll over rough stones on the ground and sharp gorse spines pierce my bare skin, catching on the fabric of my dress and leaving red scrapes across my body. I pull the worst of them out, keeping my movements as small as possible so as not to give away my position. I hold still as the footsteps slow and Cillian comes into view at the edge of the clearing.
He looks around, stares upwards at the moon in the sky above us. I blink at the sight of the antlers visible again behind his head. Maybe none of this is real? But the pain of the needles reminds me that this is happening.
He strolls into the middle of the clearing, his expression grim.
‘I know you’re here, Niamh. I can smell your fear.’
I swallow, trying not to breathe as he brushes a speck of something from the lapel of his jacket. At least his hands are empty, no sign of either the crossbow or the knife. He stares upwards, stretching his spine, cricking his neck from side to side.
‘It’ll be so much easier for you if you just come out,’ he says.
But maybe I can stay frozen forever and he’ll get bored and go home. Yeah, like that’s going to happen. A man like Cillian isn’t going to give up and let someone like me win. Part of me wants to crawl out from my hiding place and beg again for mercy. But I’ve tried that already, offered him the only thing I have left to give, and he didn’t take it.
Tears run down my face, I can’t give up– can’t surrender to this man without a fight, even if I know I won’t win. I have to at least try and find this sanctuary. I wipe the tears from my face as carefully as I can, but when I look back into the clearing, he’s staring directly at me. And he smiles.
I don’t think. I just react and roll in the opposite direction from him, pushing to my feet as soon as I clear the gorse bush and racing away as fast as I can with the thick undergrowth pulling at my limbs. It slows his progress as much as it does mine until there’s another path in front of me and I run and run and run.
I’m not sure if what I can hear is my own thudding footsteps, my heart beating or his. But it’s not long before I sense him behind me, his breath on my neck. A large hand grabs me, and I’m yanked backwards. My feet leave the ground instantly, but as I fall, he twists us both around so that he hits the ground first, his body cushioning mine.
