Page 7 of The Hunter

He leapt out of the water, bracing a hand on the ledge to steady himself as he crashed down onto folded forelegs behind Lacey.

She moved so quickly and unexpectedly that only Telok’s reflexes saved him. His hand darted up, catching the shaft of the spear she’d swung at him. The point of the blackrock head halted barely a finger’s width from the largest of his left eyes.

Lacey gasped.

Telok’s gaze flicked from the spear’s tip to her wide green eyes.

“You?” She groaned and released the spear, once more turning away from him and hugging her middle. “Uuuugh. Why does it have to be you?”

A growl built in his throat, but he swallowed it before it could escape. Tossing the spear down onto the rock, he placed a hand on Lacey’s shoulder. “Where is your hurt?”

She rolled her shoulder to dislodge his grip, but he held firm, curling his fingers around her soft flesh. This time, he was unable to hold back a growl. “Lacey, where⁠—”

Lacey growled back and attempted to pry his fingers from her arm. “Damn it, Telok, go away. Can’t you just leave me here to die in peace?”

Telok stiffened.

Die?

The scent of her blood strengthened. His leg hairs stood on end.

“No.” The word tore raggedly out of his throat, rumbling louder than the waterfall, heavier than the stone beneath them. Despite her resistance, Telok rolled Lacey onto her back, grasped her wrists with his upper hands, and forced her arms away from her middle.

“Telok, stop!” She tugged at her wrists, which Telok kept planted against the stone. Lacey growled again. “Why can’t you just go away? You ignore me any other time.”

And he ignored her words now as his gaze moved over her body. The wet brown silk of her dress clung to her skin, bearing neither tears nor blood stains.

His mandibles twitched, and his eyes narrowed. He’d smelled blood, could smell it still, and she’d been clutching her belly as though she were in pain, but no wound was evident. “Where is your hurt?”

“It’s none of your business,” she grated as she continued struggling against his hold, feet kicking at the stone.

He extended a leg, laying it over hers to pin them in place. She was going to harm herself further by fighting him like this.

Why was she stubbornly clinging to her pride now, when she was out here alone and injured?

His gaze moved lower, to where her skirt had ridden up, and his entire body went rigid. Blood was smeared thickly on her inner knees and thighs, bright against her pale flesh. Telok’s hearts stilled.

And then his lower hands were moving, one grasping Lacey’s skirt and yanking it up while the other grasped her hip to hold her in place.

“Telok, no! Let me go! Please! Please, just stop.”

Despite the blood, there were no visible wounds on either of her thighs or her abdomen. Nothing except for the crude, pink, puckered scars she’d already had—one stretching across her lower belly beneath her navel and one running along each of her inner thighs to her knees.

Telok pushed her thighs apart, seeking the blood’s source.

Lacey fought his hold with renewed strength and snarled. “God, I hate you.”

All the air fled from Telok’s lungs. Not only because of her words, but because of what he beheld.

Though the blood on Lacey’s thighs was undeniably hers, it had not come from an injury. It was coming from her slit. From…the inside.

He knew what this was. His friends had mentioned it, and the female humans had discussed it openly in the past. This was Lacey’s bleeding time. Her period.

Telok’s grip on her slackened as his mouth opened with a soft, “Ah…”

Lacey jerked her limbs out from beneath him, and as she sat up, she swung her arm. Her palm cracked across his face.

His head snapped to the side with the unexpected impact, and a sting radiated over his hide. He blinked.