Page 45 of Unravel Me

He grins before adding, "Or you die."

The grip of the pistol crashes into my skull one last time, and darkness swallows me.

CHAPTER 7: JARED

Present day

I wake at the first pale light of dawn and immediately know my heat is over. My whole body feels strange, as though I'm wearing someone else's skin, one that itches beneath the surface and simply doesn't feel right. I roll across the bed, instinctively searching for the green fae, but he's nowhere to be found.

I feel the change in my mind just as sharply. The sweet haze of pleasure, that unreal dreamlike state where nothing mattered except my own bliss, vanishes all at once, and reality crashes back into me with terrifying clarity.

Fuck. Fuck!

Tommy, Alex!

I've been gone for three days without a single sign of life. What must Alex be thinking by now? Has he gone to Storm already… or maybe even to the police?

My stomach twists into knots. How could I have forgotten about them? How could I have surrendered to wave after wave of carefree pleasure while the people who cared about me were probably convinced something terrible had happened?

I jerk upright, but the instant I straighten, the room spins so violently that I have to catch myself on the edge of the bed or I'd hit the floor.

It takes a minute or so before the dizziness eases enough for me to stand, and with shaky steps I make my way to the bathroom, rinsing myself with trembling hands to wash away every trace of my heat scent.

The shower helps clear my head a little and gives me some strength back, but I'm still trembling convulsively as I pull on the clothes I found in the mysterious ranger's wardrobe.

I know I can't stay here, even though I'm painfully aware I've entered the next stage, the dreaded heat recovery, which always leaves me feeling terribly weak. Still, I have to get back to civilization, find a phone, find someone who can help.

Closing the cabin door behind me, I head in what I believe is the direction I originally came from, suspecting that I'll have to climb the slope again, and I'm in no condition for it.

Normally I'd probably jog uphill without much trouble, but that's out of the question now. I'm barely walking, practically dragging my feet, my head swimming so badly that every now and then I have to stop and lean against a tree, somehow drawing a little strength from it. If I were home, I'd be curled up in bed with a mug of coffee or tea, counting the hours until this miserable feeling passed, but I don't have that luxury now.

Pushing through the brush, I finally reach the slope.

Damn, it looks much longer than before, though that's probably just an illusion. With a weary sigh I begin climbing, my boots slipping every few steps as I awkwardly grab branches for support. I'm panting hard, landing on my ass more than once while cursing under my breath, but thankfully the climb isn't especially steep. Eventually I reach the top, breathing heavily like a racehorse as I scan the area around me.

To my astonishment, I spot my gun lying on the ground. Apparently it flew out of my hand the moment I fell, before I rolled farther down the hillside. I pick it up, feeling like an idiot, but at the same time strangely relieved.

At least now I'll have a way to defend myself if I run into some dangerous alpha. I tuck it into my backpack and continue on. From here I know roughly how to get back… or at least I think I remember the general direction.

Unfortunately, my condition is affecting my mind just as much as my body. Every hundred feet or so I have to stop again, leaning against another tree to rest. There are moments when I'm convinced I'm about to collapse onto the forest floor and either fall asleep or black out completely, but somehow I keep moving, all the while convinced I'm heading the right way.

Fifteen minutes pass, then thirty, then forty, and by then I'm exhausted and absolutely certain I've made a wrong turn somewhere. Last time it took me maybe half an hour to reach the slope, and now I've already gone longer than that. Something's definitely wrong. Worse yet, I haven't even crossed the forest road I drove in on. I have no idea where Storm's car is anymore, which means I could be wandering through a completely different part of the forest.

Then I notice something oddly familiar attached to a tree. A swallow's nest… no, wait.

A camera.

Wow. Who puts surveillance cameras this deep in the woods?

Maybe forest rangers use them to monitor wildlife. You can find livestreams of eagle nests or deer feeding stations online all the time.

But after walking a little farther, I spot another camera mounted high in another tree. Why are there so many of them?

Strange. I desperately try to make sense of it, to dig some useful explanation out of my sluggish brain, but nothing comes.

Goddamn this heat recovery. All I want to do is lie down somewhere and take a nap.

Swearing under my breath, I wonder if I should turn back and retrace my own footsteps.