I hope he stays like that long enough for me to expel all these demons churning around inside me, hungry for a chase. Long enough that I can sink into Chloe’s wet, hot cunt one more time.
Chloe rises too, her movements shaky. I don’t take my eyes off her as I pick up the big bucket of lake water I put next to the fire.
“Then run,” I sign.
I tilt the bucket over and dump all the water on the flames, extinguishing them in a swell of pale smoke. The darkness melts around us.
Chloe sucks in her breath?—
And then she takes off into the pitch-black woods.
20
CHLOE
Ican’t believe I’m doing this, racing through the dark, crowded wilderness. I can barely see more than a few inches in front of me, and I swing my arms out, trying to claw the branches away.
But fuck, the way Theo looked at me in the firelight sent heat shooting straight into my pussy. This is exactly the kind of darkness I’ve always fantasized about. How could I say no?
So I run, my steps loud and crashing as the branches lash out at my bare legs. I’m choosing to trust him about Oliver. Maybe that’s stupid of me. But I do know how well Hunters can sense humans, like he said. I saw it with Callie, how she knew from four blocks away that me and Penelope were about to be attacked.
That’s also how I know Theo will find me, no matter where I wind up on his peninsula. The idea gives me a strange, delirious thrill.
I burst out of the woods and stumble to a stop, blinking out at the dark, glimmering waves of Hanging Lake. The moon is half-formed, and it, along with the brilliant scatter of stars, provides barely enough light to see by. I honestly have no idea where I am. There are no houses here to serve as a compass.
Something cracks out in the woods. I whip around, my breath tight.
I want to chase you,he said, and I know I’ve barely given him chase. I’ve barely given myself chase. When he catches me, I want to be scared, and tired, and desperate.
So I take off running again, this time staying parallel to the lake. I pump my arms and legs, pushing my breath out in sharp, short bursts. Frantic thoughts flicker through my head—you are a camper here and he kills campers he’s going to kill you—and my fear erupts, sudden and unexpected.
As unexpected as the exposed root branch that catches my foot.
For a moment, I feel snagged. Then I fly forward and land hard on my hands and knees, knocking all the air out of me.
Footsteps off to my left.
I twist around until I’m sitting on my ass and scan the darkness. I can’t see anything but the faint suggestion of movement from the wind.
“Fuck,” I whisper as I scramble up to standing. I can feel him nearby, the prickle of his eyes on my skin. But I can’t see him.
It’s terrifying, and it makes heat surge toward my clit.
I jog forward, my shoes pounding against the packed dirt along the shoreline, trying to catch my breath. Trying to see anything in the darkness.
Tree branches. Undead killers. Anything.
More slow, heavy footsteps. I whirl around, my fear blooming again. It’s real, my fear, but that just enhances my also-very-real desire. I know there’s a chance I can’t trust Theo. I know he might very well want to kill me like he does every other intruder on his property.
And as fucked up as it is, that thought just makes me even more excited.
More footsteps. They sound like they’re coming from the water, and I whip around and finally catch a glimpse of him: a big, hulking shadow against the glimmer of the starry lake.
Does he have a fucking knife in his hand? No, he doesn’t. Which is good, because the knife I brought with me is still in my backpack, which I tossed into the other tent when I arrived. Shows how worried I really am.
I take off running, back into the woods. The tree branches lash out at me, and I duck my head down and throw my hands out to protect myself. Something in the air shifts, and I know Theo’s followed me again. I can feel the heaviness of his presence.
And I keep going. Because I fuckingloveit, the way my fear amplifies everything. The way every branch feels like it might be his long, rough fingers reaching out to grab at my hair or scrape across my skin. Every time I feel something scratch me, I screech and throw my hands around, sure I’m going to slam into his sturdy chest.
