Page 30 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

But his gaze says it all. It expresses the worry, the concern, and the thing I’m not sure he wants me to see.

I can tell, in his eyes, that he doesn’t just like me, though the strong emotions there should be impossible for someone who’s only known me for a few days.

“I’ll be here,” he promises, his own voice low. “I’ll be here, for whatever you need. Saylor, I’m⁠—”

But I step away because I can’t listen to him say it, even though I don’t know what it is. I want to kiss him; I want to slap him, and I want to run away. Finally, my brain settles on one option just as I pivot on my heel.My tiredness and sore muscles are forgotten as once again I do the thing I’m starting to think is my true calling after all these years.

I run from him.

15

Ihate how easy it is to lose myself in my wandering thoughts. I hate how good I am at losing hours and hours of my day when I need more than anything to stay in the present so I can figure out what in the world I’m going to do.

But more than anything, I hate how lost I am right now. Physically and mentally, I have no idea where I am or what I’m doing. Mostly it’s the physical part of being lost that’s making me jumpy right now, as the sun has already set and the air is chillier than I’d thought possible for April in Ohio.

Obviously I should’ve realized that with my luck, I’d be out here when temperatures plummet without the jacket Jed had offered me.

“Fuck,” I sigh, burying my face in my hands. Since I don’t have my phone, I have no light, and my heart pounds in my chest every time I hear something in the woods around me. I have no idea where in the world I am, or how badly I’ve gotten myself turned around. I can’t see the cabin, or a path, or anything else through the trees.

And I’m too afraid to scream or call out for Jed. I worry there’s something else in the woods, like a bear just waiting to eat me, as dumb as that might sound.

“You have to get up, Saylor,” I mutter, my fingers clenching into my borrowed sweatpants. At least I’m not out here in just shorts and a t-shirt, but his shirt is too thin to really provide even half the warmth the sweatpants do. “You have to find your way back. Or somewhere, at least.” Somewhere that isn’t the middle of the woods, in the dark, where animals with long, sharp teeth roam around.

I force myself to get to my feet, my legs half-asleep from the cold and how long I’ve been sitting. I’ve really fucked up this time, but I do a quick spin on the off chance that since now it’s fully dark, I’ll be able to see something other than…well, nothing.

Nothing except the dark, and the few trees closest to me.

My heart hammers in my chest, but I take a few deep breaths to try to make things better. Or at least to make my brain stop running through all the worst-case scenarios that could happen while I’m out here.

“You won’t freeze to death,” I murmur, setting off in a random direction that feels somewhat okay. It’s better than sitting at least. While I walk, I rub my arms, trying to warm up. “You will not freeze to death. You may be miserable. You may catch the fucking consumption out here from the cold. But you will not freeze to death, Saylor.” The sound of my voice does a good bit to calm me down, and my strides lengthen as I keep going.

“You also won’t get eaten,” I add, when I hear a far off howl. “Animals are more afraid of you than you are of them. As impossible as that seems right now.” Truly, I’m not sure how anything could be more frightening than I am at this moment, but I’m willing to hear an explanation or see evidence of that. “Even if there are a few bears out here, what are the chances of you running into them? Coyotes don’t eat people, right?” I’m pretty sure they don’t.

“And this is a nature preserve,” I add, jumping when a stick I trip over comes back to whack me in the leg for vengeance. “There’s no one out here that’s doing anything…nefarious. Except maybe Jed and his friends.” Because, well, that’s obvious. But other than him? Who could be out here at night, when I haven’t passed any other houses or businesses this far out in the woods?

Hell, I haven’t even seen a road.

“You’ll find something to point you back, eventually.” That feels…not as true as the other things I promise myself. I can convince myself that there aren’t rabid wolves, that I won’t freeze, and that there aren’t serial killers waiting in the woods to kill me. But convincing myself I’m not hopelessly lost, doomed to starve in the woods before anyone finds me?

That one is harder. The thought causes my heart to slam against my ribs, and I can feel tears burning at my eyes as the idea of it comes around again and again with mounting viciousness.

“You’ll be—” Crashing through the underbrush cuts me off, and when I hear the sharp bays of something I can’t identify, I’m sure that either the Ghost of Easter Past is on my tail, or I’m about to get eaten by an animal I’d written off as harmless.

But the bays become barks as I freeze, and I whirl around to see the light of two bright LED flashlights. The dogs run to me, circling, sniffing my legs and barking up at me with teeth bared in their ugly, hound faces. One of them snarls at me, prompting me to pull my arms up and across my chest while I stand there, unable to do more than pray that I won’t get eaten.

The dogs certainly don’t seem very friendly.

But maybe they’re a rescue party. I can hear voices behind the lights, though I’m blinded by their brightness, and I stare into them, doe-eyed, like I’m an animal being spotlighted by hunters. “H-hello?” I ask, when the lights are close enough for me to reach out and touch. One of the dogs snaps at me, causing me to gasp, and I stumble to the side, nearly falling, as both of them follow me eagerly, waiting for a chance to do more than bark.

“The fuck?” The voice isn’t familiar, and a hand reaches out to clamp on my arm, jerking me upright. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m—” I squint, trying to see past the bright lights that have spots dancing in my vision. “I’m lost, I’m…trying to find my way back. Who are you?” Something in me prickles, and my stomach doesn’t unclench with relief. If anything, these two people and their dogs make everything in me feel worse.

Like I really am in trouble now.

“Can you make them stop? Please?” I ask, tripping away from the more aggressive dog. The man’s grip tightens on my arm, making me yelp, and my heart goes into overdrive at that.

“You’re lost?” The man sounds amused, if a little unbelieving. “You expect us to believe you just wandered out here? The only ones out here in the preserve are the rangers.” He sounds gruff, with an accent that places him far to the south of Ohio. Distantly I hear the other one spit, and with a low whistle, the dogs back away from me, though one snaps at my leg in warning.