Page 5

Somewhere in the forest, a twig snapped.

I shut my eyes tight. Willed myself to stand. To move. To run.

And then another twig. And then regular footsteps, snapping branches and rustling leaves and nothing like the boom, boom, BOOM in my nightmare, but just as sickening. The forest swam around me, unfamiliar and hateful, and my eyes burned with the futility of it all. Of even trying.

Something warm and heavy slammed into my side. It flattened me to the forest floor, landing on top of me so my right side seemed to catch fire with pain. I screamed silently as a hand pinned my shoulder to the ground, and hot breath exhaled against my bloody, freezing cheek.

The growly voice said, “You are clumsy.”

“What do you want?” I hated the sound of it, whiney and pathetic even in my own ears. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t breathe; he sat on top of me, immobilizing.

“I wanted a good hunt. But seeing as you aren’t up to it, I’ll settle for a delicious meal, instead.”

The heat of him was stifling but didn’t sink through my coat or skin. I was frozen inside, like the ground after a winter of frosts, untouchable.

I said through my teeth, “The fuck are you? Some rich bitch who can’t get off unless he makes someone else scream?” Still whining, but there was a burst of defiance in me suddenly.

I should’ve died like this, confused and alone, decades ago. It was about fucking time, really.

“Oooh, is that how you put up a fight? With that pretty mouth of yours instead of those useless legs?” He chuckled, deep and hot.

I shivered and tried to push him off.

He collapsed his full weight on top of me, and I screamed at the flash of pain it sent through my rib cage. Then kept squirming, uselessly trying to get him off me, as the pain spiraled into something unrelenting and intolerable. He just kept pushing down harder.

“Go on, then,” he growled. “Talk shit to me before I eat you all up. Make it worth my while.”

“Fuck you,” I gasped as the world went red and then black around the edges.

“No, fuck y—”

But then there was a loud sound, like something heavy and metallic hitting so much meat, and Wulfric slumped forward like a sack of potatoes. My face jammed into his ripped sweater and belly, and the scent of musty fur and a spike of white-hot pain pulled me under.

Chapter 3: The Woodsman

Ishivered awake, the involuntary movement lighting up my right side with pain. I groaned and tried to open my sticky eyes, clutching for my coat. But it was gone.

Everything was gone except my shorts. What the fuck?

I gritted my teeth through the pain, head pounding, heart in my throat, and pushed myself up to my knees. The effort made my head spin, and I shivered with cold again. A heavy blanket slipped off my back, and while one side of me felt relatively warm—my skin was, at least—the other felt frozen.

The hardwood floor under my knees and palms was unfamiliar. Shouldn’t it be leaves and sticks?

Shouldn’t I be dead?

Or was there an afterlife or reincarnation waiting room with hardwood floors?

“You’re awake,” said someone.

I jumped and curled in on myself; the ass of my shorts was damp. God, I hoped that was from the ground, not something I’d done while sleeping. Something sticky on my face—I touched it, and there was something clear and herbal-scented on my fingertip after.

“Stay close to the fire,” said the low, gentle voice. Footsteps hesitating as they grew nearer. “Please.”

I made myself look up, expecting blond hair and flashing teeth. Another shudder at the memory of Wulfric and his voice echoing through the forest. Through my skull. My ribs throbbed.

The person stopped about ten feet away from me, then knelt. Thick thighs stretched the worn denim, and I had an out-of-body moment of appreciation.

“You should keep the blanket over you. It’s bear fur. Very warm.” They leaned forward, scooping up the blanket that had slid off me, and then held it out to me. “And that’s just ointment on your cheek. For the scratches.”