Hunted (Riley Cray)

by A. J. Colby

  “I thought I heard something,” Holbrook answered, his voice closer. “I’m just going to check it out.”

  “No, no, no.” I struggled furtively, my legs kicking madly in the air as I strained against the window frame, and then froze as the door swung open.

  Holbrook’s tall frame was silhouetted in the doorway, light from the other room spilling around him to fall across the grubby tile floor. His hand was already on the light switch, flipping it on, when he noticed me.

  “Hi!” I said, not even wanting to know how ridiculous I looked hanging halfway through the window, naked as the day I was born.

  At first he didn’t react, too stunned to say anything as his eyes took in the sight of my far from graceful entrance. Snapping his mouth shut, he cast a furtive glance back over his shoulder before slipping in through the door and closing it with a slow precision that left no doubt in my mind that he was fighting against the urge to slam it.

  “What the...where have...how did...” he stammered, trying several times to form a coherent sentence but failing miserably.

  All the while his face grew redder, whether from anger, embarrassment, or a mixture of both I couldn’t tell, but the steely edge to his gaze made it clear that anger was definitely featured in there somewhere. I felt myself wilt a little beneath the weight of his glare, my eyes growing hot with the threat of tears.

  “Can you help me?” I asked. “I don’t want to be eaten ass first,” I added, drawing an even more confused look from him. Waving it off, I reached out a hand to him. “Just help me down.”

  “I don’t know...I’m tempted to just leave you there. Maybe bring the press ‘round back,” he said, not moving an inch from his position by the door, settling instead for crossing his arms over his chest. “You might even make the evening news.”

  Another breeze of cold air tickled the backs of my legs, making me cringe and shudder. In the back of my mind I envisioned Samson sneaking through the darkness, spying my pale wiggling ass framed in the window like a flashing neon sign proclaiming ‘Chomp here!’

  Tears of frustration began to make my vision waver. “Oh God, just get me down!”

  Holbrook remained unmoving for another moment, drawing out my torture for several more heart pounding seconds. Finally, the sour expression on his face gave way to one of exasperation as he pushed away from the door and took the few short steps to reach me.

  “Do I even want to know what happened?” he asked with a sigh, grasping my upper arms firmly to pull me through the window.

  “I’d think that was pretty self-evident,” I grumbled, letting out a hissing breath as my bare skin scraped against the metal frame.

  In a tangle of flailing limbs and embarrassed curses I finally tumbled out of the window, my momentum knocking us both into the tub where we sprawled, awkwardly entwined. For a breathless moment I lay in the bottom of the tub, a multitude of aches and pains making themselves known all at once.

  “Well, that was exciting,” I said, pushing my limp hair out of my face to see him scowling at me.

  “Uh huh,” he hummed, disentangling his long legs from mine and levering himself out of the tub.

  Seeing that I was going to get no help from my sulking bodyguard, I clambered out of the bathtub as gracefully as I could, which is to say, not at all, and then stood uncertainly in the middle of the cramped bathroom. The only clothes in the room were currently draped over Holbrook, and he didn’t particularly look like he wanted to share.

  For a long moment we stood in uncomfortable silence, Holbrook having retreated to as safe a distance as he could manage in the small room, his back pressed against the door, and me standing next the tub rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet. With the window missing the room was quickly getting cold and I wasn’t getting any less naked, my patience dwindling at the same rate as my body temperature.

  “Gimme your shirt,” I said, rubbing my hands along the backs of my arms in an attempt to get some warmth back into my limbs.

  “A simple ‘Thank you’ would suffice,” he replied. Making short work of the buttons on his flannel shirt he peeled it off to reveal the plain white t-shirt beneath, scowling as he thrust his shirt towards me.

  Closing the short distance between us I laid my hands on the stiff muscles of his shoulders, breathing deep to draw in the sweet smell of him and the faint hint of mint on his breath. I leaned into him, pressing my nakedness along the length of his body, luxuriating in the softness of his t-shirt against my stiffening nipples, and the roughness of his jeans against my thighs.

  Hovering a hair’s breadth from his lips, letting him feel the warmth of my breath against his skin I whispered “Thank you” before slanting my mouth over his.

  Some part of me heard the soft rustle of fabric as his shirt hit the floor, but the rest of me didn’t give a flying fuck the moment his hot hands settled on my bare hips, his fingers pressing into my skin with urgent need. His shuddering breath skittered past my lips, tickling the skin along my jaw and ruffling my loose hair. I purred into his mouth, my hum of pleasure vibrating through our dancing mouths.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MY LIPS TINGLING from Holbrook’s bruising kisses, I didn’t even bother trying to hide my idiotic grin as I retrieved his shirt from the floor, shrugging the still warm flannel over my shoulders. Buttoning the shirt I struck a saucy pose, cocking one hip in his direction as I flashed him a salacious smile.

  “How do I look?” I asked, making a show of batting my eyelashes at him. I may have looked like I was having a seizure, but I figured I got points for effort.

  The widening of his eyes and paling of his cheeks wasn’t the response I’d hoped for, and for a heart pounding moment I had the horrifying vision of Samson crawling in through the open window behind me. My skin prickled in paranoia, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up straight as glanced back over my shoulder.

  The window was dark and empty. “What?”

  Holbrook raised a hand to point at my jaw, looking a little green. “You’ve err...got a little...something there.”

  Wiping a hand across the side of my face, I looked down to see a faint smear of blood coloring my fingers. Once upon a time I would have been mortified at having blood smeared across my face, but it had been eight long years since the wolf had first awoken. I was accustomed now to the taste and scent of blood. A stray drop or two on my face was no big deal. Letting the vibrating tension ease out of my shoulders I swiped my hand over my jaw again.

  “Did I get it all?” I asked, craning my neck towards him. I might have enjoyed teasing him just a little too much.

  Still looking a little nauseous, he swallowed and nodded.

  “Well, I guess it’s time to face the music then,” I said, reluctant to leave the sanctuary of the bathroom.

  “Guess so,” Holbrook mumbled, opening the door and preceding me. Johnson was planted in the center of the room, thunderheads gathering in his eyes.

  I had no doubt that Johnson was entirely, mundanely human, but the red hot fury rolling off of him gave me pause. He thrummed with furious energy, the overpowering bitter smell of it wrinkling my nose.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” he asked, his face flushing a worrying shade of purple, looking fit to burst a gasket at the slightest provocation.

  “Umm...” was all I could muster as I shuffled further into the room, my hands wringing in front of me. I hadn’t felt so chastised since I was a little girl and my grandfather had found me smoking behind the garage.

  “Never mind, I really don’t care right now,” he said, waving off my failed attempt at an excuse. “While you were off gallivanting around, Reed made contact.”

  Dread washed over me as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over my head. My hearing went fuzzy for a moment as I swayed on my feet. The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention again, and I wondered if Samson had seen Holbrook and me pawing at each other like horny teenagers in the bathroom. The thought made me want to puk
e.

  “W-what happened?” I asked, swallowing the fear rising in the back of my throat.

  “I came back from getting coffee and found evidence that Reed had been in my room,” Holbrook said, the stiffness in his posture and the clipped edge to his voice making me wary.

  “What evidence?”

  “We believe it’s an animal carcass.”

  “Believe it’s...you mean you don’t know? How can you not know?” I asked, my voice rising in pitch as hysteria crept in around the edges of my frayed nerves.

  “It’s not fully intact,” he hedged.

  “Meaning?” I pushed, an unsettling idea niggling at the back of my mind, leaving a sour taste in my mouth. Holbrook sighed, obviously frustrated at my inability to leave the subject alone and just accept their terse explanation.

  “It looks like the partial remains of a deer,” he answered, confirming my suspicions.

  My hand hovered in front of my mouth, my breath whistling in my ears as the room blurred in my vision and my hearing went fuzzy again.

  “It’s mine,” I said, crackles of static hovering at the edges of my vision.

  “What?” the agents chimed in unison, directing matching looks of confusion at me.

  “The deer. It’s my kill. He was...oh God, he was there, watching me in the woods. He watched me hunt and feed. Watched me...Jesus. He watched me sleep,” I said, my voice quavering as I fought off the feeling of dizziness that signaled I was close to fainting. “I think I’m gonna throw up,” I whispered, swallowing the flood of saliva in my mouth.

  Reaching a hand out to the edge of the dresser to steady myself, I hung my head, closing my eyes as I took several slow breaths. Somehow I managed to keep the contents of my stomach from spilling over the floor through sheer force of will alone, but it was a damned close call.

  “We think he got your rooms mixed up and left it in Agent Holbrook’s room instead of yours by mistake,” Johnson was saying, his voice sounding like it was coming from a long way off. I nodded numbly in agreement, but I was pretty sure it was meant to be a warning to Holbrook as much as me.

  Samson didn’t make mistakes.

  “It’ll be okay, Riley. We’ll catch him,” Holbrook tried to reassure me as if he sensed that I was close to passing out or running away again.

  “For heaven’s sake, pull yourself together, woman,” Johnson said, evidently at the end of his patience.

  “Fine...I’m fine,” I forced myself to say, hoping that if I could convince the agents maybe I’d be able to convince myself too. Swallowing hard, I pushed my hair back from my face and straightened. My knees were like Jell-O, but I was sure that I could at least make it a few more minutes without puking or fainting like a scared little girl. “Just give me a minute, okay?”

  “We are not your servants, Ms. Cray. You are on our clock, and if you want to have any chance of surviving this shit storm, I suggest you get your act together,” Johnson said, his anger flaring like a match put to kerosene.

  “What the hell is your problem?”

  “You’re my problem,” he said, stepping close enough for me to see each pore on his nose.

  I was always a pretty private person. Even before Samson’s attack I had preferred my own company to that of others, and afterwards I had just retreated further into my little world. I wasn’t fond of unfamiliar people, and I sure as hell didn’t like people getting in my face.

  “Hey, I’m not the one who called in the fucking circus!” Stepping back to a more comfortable distance, I waved a hand at the horde of reporters on the other side of the door. I couldn’t have cared less about the view I was giving him as my wild gestures flapped the tails of Holbrook’s shirt around my bare thighs.

  At that moment the door swung open, a gust of cold wind billowing into the room, lifting the front of my shirt to flash my now not-so-private parts to the multitude of cameras. Squinting at the flood of lights I was just able to make out the shape of Chrismer through the white spots dancing across my vision.

  Fuck a duck!

  Johnson’s face flushed the worrying shade of purple again, and I winced, steeling myself for the impending splatter that would surely happen when his head exploded. While his head didn’t actually explode, I was pretty sure that something snapped inside his skull when he developed a rather prominent eye twitch.

  Blinking rapidly to clear my watering eyes, the blur of shapes and colors solidified into the mass of reporters cramming themselves into the doorway. I wasn’t at all surprised to see Chrismer taking point, a smug smile curving her bright red lips.

  “Great, it’s the queen bee and her lecherous cronies.” My lips pulled back in a snarl. Besides Samson, there wasn’t anyone else in the world that I hated with such a deep gut-wrenching passion as Chrismer.

  With an exaggerated sway of her hips she stepped forward, standing apart from the other reporters who regarded her with a mixture of hatred and admiration.

  “Riley Cray. What a surprise to find you here,” she purred, her eyes flashing a chilling silver for a heartbeat before fading back to their usual scrutinizing blue. The saccharine sweetness of her smile was enough to make the nausea rise again.

  “Chrismer,” I replied, my voice rumbling just shy of a full out growl.

  Yeah I bet you’re oh so shocked, bitch, I snarled mentally, the wolf gnashing her teeth.

  “Is it true that Samson Reed has escaped from White Sands Supernatural Penitentiary? There have been reports of several murders between here and New Mexico, all of them showing signs of a werewolf attack. Do you believe these are the acts of Reed?” she asked in rapid succession, barely giving me enough time to breath, let alone answer.

  “Umm...” I floundered, words failing me.

  “Tell me, Ms. Cray, do you fear for your life?” she asked, thrusting her microphone towards me. I recoiled from it as if it were a poisonous snake, her words stabbing into me with vicious precision.

  “You have no shame do you?” I whispered, remembering all too clearly how she had hounded me during the trial, drawing out my suffering to increase her ratings.

  “I’m simply trying to deliver the truth to my viewers,” she replied, her face the picture of innocence except for the cruelty shining in her eyes.

  “You and your viewers can go to hell,” I hissed.

  Ignoring me she pressed on. “Do you think Reed is coming to find you? That he wants to get revenge for your part in putting him away?”

  I knew I shouldn’t goad her. No matter how much she pissed me off, a Day Servant was not someone to be trifled with. I wasn’t keen on finding myself on the receiving end of the wallop she could deliver with the power of her master behind it, but I just couldn’t seem to help myself. Every fiber of my being hummed with the desire to wipe the smug smile off of her face with my fist, and seeing as punching her was likely to land my ass in jail, I lashed out with the only viable weapon at my disposal.

  “How about I ask you a question? Does your master have to bite that pretty little neck before he can get a stiffy, or are they making Viagra for the undead these days?” I asked, stepping up to the threshold, the cold air sweeping across my bare toes.

  “Filthy mutt,” she snarled through gritted teeth, eyes shimmering cold silver as she drew on her master’s power, the gathering energy lifting her perfectly coiffed hair off her shoulders. I wasn’t sure what she was getting ready to throw at me, but it was guaranteed to hurt.

  “Coffin whore,” I shot back, figuring if she was going to take me out, I should at least get one good jab in first.

  Her delicate features pinched together as if she tasted something sour. And then her beautiful mask settled back into place, hiding the cold savagery beneath.

  “You’re going to pay for that, Cray.”

  “Oh, bite me you overrated hooker.”

  Johnson’s fingers were bands of hot iron when they clamped onto my upper arm, pulling me back from the doorway as if I were an errant child. Pushing me behind him he faced Chris
mer and the other reporters clustered together in a shivering huddle.

  “That’s enough out of you,” he hissed in my ear, hot breath blowing across my skin. Ignoring me for the moment, he turned back to Chrismer and plastered a tight, professional smile on his face. “We are not prepared to make a statement at this time, however we will be holding a press conference tomorrow morning at FBI headquarters in Denver,” Johnson said smoothly, for once looking like the Special Agent he was rather than a bitter has-been.

  I was impressed until he rounded on me and the professional façade fell, replaced with a look of seething anger.

  “You. Sit. Now,” he ground out, biting off each word sharply as he extended a single thick finger towards one of the beds.

  Catching Holbrook’s warning look in the corner of my eye I turned and trudged over to the nearest bed, my shoulders slumping. I could feel the triumphant joy radiating off of Chrismer in waves.

  Bitch.

  “What the hell was that?” Johnson asked as soon as the door closed, the deathly calm in his voice belying the rage burning just beneath the surface.

  “Harry, give her a break,” Holbrook said, stepping in front of me as if to protect me from his partner’s wrath.

  “Shut it, Darius. This is as much your fault as it is hers. If you were able to keep your dick in your pants for more than five seconds, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  I could tell by the stiffening of Holbrook’s shoulders, and the sudden flush that crept up his neck, that his partner had hit a sore point. Protectiveness flared inside me, washing away my hurt feelings.

  “Now hold on a second,” I interrupted, jumping up from the bed to move around in front of Holbrook, doing my own white knight impression.

  “No. You don’t get to speak, mutt. You will sit down, you will be quiet, and you will not leave this room without my say so. I’ve been ordered to protect your furry ass, and I will do my job no matter how much I would like to see that maniac tear you to pieces.”