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As if time had frozen, a moment of clarity descended upon Sin.
The Hunter could have aimed just slightly higher and slashed his throat. The wound would have been severe enough for him to follow up with a lethal blow. He could have made the cut deeper and entirely beheaded Sin, or broken his neck and then beheaded him.
Even Immortals couldn’t recover from a beheading.
But that wasn’t what the Hunter had done. He’d inflicted a flesh wound. Even the dagger to the gut didn’t nick any vital organs, though he tore a jagged hole in Sin’s abdomen and drowned him in undilutedpain.
In the split second Sin’s breath was knocked out of him, his prey lunged into a swift sprint through the pitch-black woods, his booted feet almost silent upon the forest ground.
He would have made a great feline Beast, Sin thought unexpectedly, breathing deep to control the pain of his wounds. Dark Ones were born predators too, but he’d never met one so big, who moved as silently as this fucker did.
Taking his time, not rushing it, he straightened to his feet, legs braced apart. He rolled his head from side to side, cracking the kinks out of his muscles, his eyes intensely focused in the direction that the Hunter had gone.
With a feral grin and a dark chuckle, Sin shifted into liger and gave chase.
Chapter Eight
“When caught in the sights of a feline predator, beware. The last thing you should do isrun…”
—Common sense
A Dark One, no matter how fast and strong, could never outrun a feline Beast. And given their keen sense of smell, their ability to detect the smallest vibrations in the air with their whiskers, it was just as impossible to hide.
The only way to stop a Beast in his tracks was to hold your ground and fight.
Zai had fought against Beasts before and won. But he’d had a full arsenal of weapons at his disposal. He hadn’t suffered from still fresh wounds and hunger.
And he’d always been the Hunter, never the prey.
When they’d fought, it was on his terms. He’d been ready for them, whether they stalked him in the jungles or pounced on him from trees. He’d lured them in and executed them, or his Hunter troops had dealt the killing blow once the Beast was in their sights.
This was different in every way. Zai had never before played the part of prey.
Mentally, he shook himself.
He wouldn’t succumb to even the smallest hint of the notion that he was disadvantaged, vulnerable,lesser.
He wasnotprey.
He was not helpless. He would hold his ground and fight back.
Wild lions had been known to be outmaneuvered and killed by large prey who refused to run. Zai only ran to buy himself some time to prepare.
He wove around tightly spaced trees, zigzagging as he went, confusing the trail he left behind. He leapt up trunks and ran across branches, jumping from one tree to another, so that his trail suddenly discontinued upon the forest floor below. Then, he’d drop back down at a distance and run again, sometimes doubling back before going forward.
Finally, he leapt up a large cedar and balanced on the lowest branch, still over twenty feet above the ground.
As his pulse and heartbeat slowed, he attuned his senses to the forest, listening and watching for any sign of his pursuer.
A pregnant silence greeted him, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. A slight breeze sifted through the leaves in the trees and upon the ground, creating a faint rustle.
It was almost dawn by now; Zai felt more than saw the wan light slowly creeping into the skies. They were so deep in the woods that the canopy of leaves overhead prolonged the darkness, made it seem as if it was still night.
Small creatures should be rustling around, rummaging for food. But Zai heard nothing. As if they all stayed in the safety of their hiding places, knowing that a bloody battle was about to go down.
Then, there was a rustle that seemed out of tune with the music of the rest of the living forest.
Zai’s Dark One vision sharpened in that direction, homing in on his adversary as the liger appeared.
