Page 80 of The Prey

“Happy hunting,” he mocks and then turns to race off into the trees.

The rest of the pack follows him, and within a couple of minutes, all hunters have disappeared into the forest. With a sigh, I start toward the woods, my steps slow and precise. Fear and sex cling to the air, and I breathe the scents deep in my lungs. Fuck. I should be out there, chasing and claiming someone, but the thought of taking anyone but Elyse makes me sick to my stomach.

A few yards away, I spot Drew, headed toward the far edge of the wooded area. Well, I guess that ensures I stay to the left of the property. No way in hell do I want to run into him and Bel in the woods. It’s bad enough that I know for a fact my best friend is fucking my sister, but to witness it? No fucking thank you.

Once I make it to the trees I shove my hands into my pockets and let the allure of calmness wash over me. It's a little chilly tonight—not as bad as last year, but I have a feeling it will get colder as it gets darker. People will take their revelry up to the house as they get tired of freezing their asses off.

A scream splits the slowly darkening woods, and I stop, cocking my head to the side to listen. Screaming, moaning, begging. None of those things are abnormal to hear out here, but that sound… It wasn't a normal scream of pleasure, of play. It was a banshee shout drenched in fear and dipped in pain.

Dammit. Did someone hurt themselves already? I race in the direction of where I heard the noise, scanning the trees and brush, hoping to catch sight of someone before I trek the entirety of the fucking property. That would be my fucking luck.

Unfortunately, there’s nothing there, and I strain my senses against the gathering dark and sounds of others fucking, moaning, playing in the woods like some great pagan rite. Weird. I shake my head and try to let go of the strange impending feeling of doom that I have in my gut. What the fuck is going on with me?

I'm tempted to call out to the voice. It sounded feminine, but I don't want to risk drawing the attention of some of the more zealous hunters. Some participants take things too far, and I’m not in the mood to nurse anyone’s wounded pride tonight.

I catch the sound of rustling leaves behind a thicker copse of trees directly ahead of me, and I lean to the side to see if I can catch a glimpse of someone…hell, anything at all. It takes a lot to surprise me, and I’m not even really shocked since this is The Hunt, but when a tiny little woman comes rushing through the thicket, her body crashing into my chest, I am. Mainly because something about her, and the placement feels off. Wrong.

Chase participants rarely get this far out.

I catch her by the biceps, and she lashes out, instinctually fighting against my grip like she’s fighting for her life. What the fuck? She’s tiny, and if I wanted to, I could subdue her. Instead, I do a quick sweep of her body, trying to pinpoint anything that might give me a clue as to what the hell is going on. Knotted rope hangs off one wrist, gray rabbit ears adorn her head, and a black sash is tied around her throat.

I can’t really make out what she’s wearing, but from a quick glance, I’d assume some type of lingerie and black sneakers. Who is this girl? Where did she come from? None of the runners I had seen were wearing anything like this. I would’ve noticed.

She whimpers, trying to twist out of my grasp, which only makes me tighten my hold on her. I won’t lie, her cries make my cock hard, but I swallow that desire down. I’m more curious as to who she is, and how she ended up this far out here.

I stare at her face, my gaze roaming over her eyes, nose, and lips in the paltry moonlight shining through the trees.

Delicate. Breakable. Like porcelain.

The ground beneath my feet crumbles, and my entire world shifts into sharp focus. It can’t be. How? I didn’t invite her, and no one else would dare, and somehow here she is, a participant in The Hunt.

“Elyse,” I breathe.

Her big blue eyes widen with fear, and there’s this faraway look in her eyes. “Please… don’t. Just let me go.”

Let you go? She’s talking gibberish.

“Let you go?” I hiss.

“I don’t want to be kidnapped again.”

Something spears through me. Kidnapped? Who kidnapped her? I scan the trees over her head, half expecting another person to pop out. Yanov, mainly, but could be any unfortunate soul at this point. But, there’s no one else there.

“There's no one there,” I murmur and then ask, “Who kidnapped you?”

She shoves at my chest again, tears trailing down her cheeks. I don’t want to let her go, but it’s obvious touching her is making things worse. “Let me go. Please, let me go!”

With a sigh I soften my grasp, and she tugs her arms free like a thread through the eye of a needle. Studying her, I notice more rope, this time hanging off her right ankle. It looks cut. I survey the area for any other clues, and my gaze catches on something shiny. That's when I see the blade of a small knife she’s wielding in her hand.

My gaze shifts almost involuntarily to the gray bodysuit she's wearing. Spaghetti straps and silk hug her body. Lace panel cut-outs give me glimpses of bare, goosebumped flesh, and I have to swallow hard.

Shit. What the fuck is going on?

I reach for her again, mainly because I need to touch her to ensure she’s real, and maybe touching her will give me an answer because I need to know what the fuck is happening. Is she out here to play? Was she planted here? I don’t get very far because she releases a screech of pure terror and swings the knife toward me like she thinks I’m going to hurt her.

With a long exhale, I snatch her wrist, the one holding the knife, and tug her back against my chest. At the very least to give her some of my body heat. Her skin is ice cold now that the sun has set. How long has she been out here?

“If you cut me before I'm ready to play I'm going to get mad, and then I’ll have to punish you,” I hiss.