Chapter 8
Sabrina
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It’s nearly pitch blackinside the tent, and even with my heightened eyesight, it takes several minutes to adjust to the low lighting coming from the dying campfire outside enough to see anything around me. Carefully, I disentangle myself from the sleeping bag, trying not to wake Reid. The zipper on the small tent is ungodly loud in the otherwise still forest though, the crinkling of material of the door not making my stealthy escape any easier.
“Everything alright?” he asks, voice heavy with sleep as he rolls over, reaching for his glasses.
“Yep, just need to pee, go back to sleep.”
He frowns. “You shouldn’t go stumbling around in the dark alone.”
Stepping out, I prepare to trap him inside. “I can deal with protective hovering and escorting me everywhere, but listening to me pee is where I officially draw the line.”
He attempts to smother a smile, but epically fails. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but-”
Giving up on discretion now that the others are stirring around us, I hastily zip up the door behind me while simultaneously scratching my nails over the polyester fabric, wincing at the noise. “What’s that? Sorry, can’t hear you over the sound of my denial.”
Picking my way through the canine moat surrounding the poorest castle in existence, I nearly trip over Slade. He releases a low chuff, prying open one eye, but it immediately falls shut again as I run a hand over the top of his head and scratch behind his ear. “Be right back.”
Bo’s already up, taking a step in my direction, but I put my foot down on this one. Reaching down through Slade’s button up to where my necklace is settled above the stomach of my tank top, I tug it free to make my point. “I’m holding up my end of the bargain; haven’t taken it off. You already canvassed the area, and are clearly comfortable enough in us being alone that you were able to sleep.” Letting the pendant fall, I wiggle my fingers. “Not only can I siphon, but if I run across any human serial killers disposing of bodies, I can hit them with the worst bitchslap in history. Or scream. So you’re going to sit your butt back down, and give me five minutes of privacy.”
He narrows his eyes at me the entire time, but lowers himself back down to the ground. I’ve no doubt he’s already started the timer and will come looking the second it reaches zero, but I’m counting this as a win.
“Thank you. Be right back.”
Making a beeline through the trees until I’m far enough away that I should be out of earshot, I quickly relieve myself, internally grumbling over how much easier guys have it. Finishing up, I carry on a little further towards the river and sit on the bank, rinsing my hands in the water. It’s chilly, but bearable, and I allow myself to enjoy my final two minutes of alone time before accepting that I need to head back.
As I dry my feet on the grass and hands on my shorts, a quick flash in the darkness has my head jerking up to find a set of luminescent eyes only a stone’s throw away. Taking an automatic step back, my foot slips on the river’s edge. I brace myself for the incoming rush of cold water, clenching my eyes shut, but it never comes. Prying open one eyelid, I find a shifted Hunter staring back at me, teeth clamped around the front of my borrowed shirt to keep me from plummeting into the water.
He steps back, dragging me with him until I have both feet firmly on the ground, but still doesn’t release me. Waiting until my rapid heartbeat is under control, I gently tug my shirt free, and this time, he let’s go without resistance.
“You scared the hell out of me.” Naturally, he doesn’t respond. “Awesome, your alter ego has all of the patience you lack, but is a creepy pervert.” At that, he sends an indignant rush of air out of his nose right into my face before giving me his back, walking away. With a roll of my eyes, I follow him.
Hissing in a sharp breath when I step on a rock, I pick my path more carefully, but it’s dark enough that it makes my progress slow going. I was clearly wrong about his patience, because Hunter’s hellhound makes it all of thirty seconds before he returns and lowers himself onto the ground in front of me with a low growl, shooting me an expectant look.
“I'm not riding you. That’s weird, even by our standards.”
But he doesn’t budge, so I walk around him. Or at least, I try to. The air rushes from my lungs as he bites the back of my shirt, lifting me off of the ground and starts walking. At this point, I’m annoyed enough to pull a Reid and throat punch him, but to pull that off, I’d need to spin around. The only thing more embarrassing than being dragged back to camp like a wayward puppy by the scruff of its neck is to flail around helplessly as I dangle from Hunter’s mouth.
Turns out, a small bit of pride survived the fall, after all.
Flicking open the top buttons of Slade’s shirt, I lift my arms and let gravity take care of the rest. The air rushes from my lungs as I land on my ass, rolling out of the way before I get stepped on. Giving Hunter a smug, one fingered salute, I get to my feet and start walking again. He lets me take the lead, turning my victory into a loss as he morphs the situation so that I’m being herded back to camp. It shouldn’t annoy me nearly as much as it does, and maybe I wouldn’t have the same reaction if it wasn’t Hunter, but I’m quickly coming to realize that he’s the Cin to my Slade.
He’s incredibly irritating.
