Page 27 of Faun Over Me

“H-hello?”

The breeze died away, tree tops falling still as clouds drifted away from the moon, casting the backside of the camp in pale blue light. Shadows crawled from the wood, and Avery exhaled.

“You’re being stupid,” she berated herself. “It was just a twig snapping.” Still, her neck prickled, and she peered into the woods, heart juddering to a halt when one of the shadows moved.

A broad figure stepped between the trees, moonlight pouring over a bone-white skull. Avery did not wait to see the rest of whatever the creature was. Hitching her skirt high, she leapt over the creek and ran.

Pounding footsteps followed, shaking the earth. Avery pressed her speed, dropping her skirt to swing her arms and lengthen her stride. The denim tangled in her legs, keeping her from sprinting outright. The trail she followed ran along the length of the orchestra room, and the next gap between the buildings was easily twenty yards away. Even without a skirt on, Avery had never been the fastest runner, but she’d mastered that sixty-foot sprint during her years as a power hitter.

She called on all that muscle memory now, gritting her teeth and aiming for the edge of the building and the breezeway. Sweat poured down her back, half from the hot summer night, half from fear as a dank musk accosted her nose. Musk and something sharp. Minty. She gagged, her eyes burning and a cry strangling in her throat.

There was a rush of hot wind, wet panting in her ear, and the creature snagged her skirt, wrenching Avery back. She landed on her stomach, shrieking and scrabbling at the ground. She kicked her legs, and a shoe connected with something hard and immovable.

“Please,” she sobbed, kicking her leg again, grazing what she thought might be a leg. “Let me go.” And again, higher and—her shoe connected with something soft. Squishy. The creature let out a noise that was somewhere between a howl and a roar, claws ripping free from her skirt and grazing the inside of her calf. Pain shot up her leg, fueling the adrenaline already coursing through her body. She scrambled away, gaining her feet and sprinting forward. The tear its claws had left in her skirt allowed Avery to open her stride, and she bolted, aiming for the dim lights of the practice rooms and a campfire circle gleaming ahead. There would be people and inhumans. There would be help. There would be—

An arm shot out of the breezeway, snagging Avery’s elbow and hauling her between two buildings. Splinters scraped her shoulders, and before she could process what had happened, her face was pressed into a warm body, thin cotton the only thing separating her from a rapidly beating heart.

“Keep quiet,” a raspy voice whispered. A hand palmed the back of her head, and an arm snaked around her back, pressing Avery hip-to-hip with her savior. She trembled wildly, burying her face into a slight chest. Something leathery and moist nuzzled her ear, soft lips brushing the shell as they spoke again. “Slow breaths, or not at all, if you can manage.”

“Cricket,” she whimpered, and the faun held her tighter, shushing in her ear. A shiver joined her tremble, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

A wicked snarl rumbled down the tight breezeway, and she cried out against Cricket’s chest. It was close; the creature was so close, and they were barely hidden in the shadows. If it swept its arm, it would snag her skirt. It would drag her away from Cricket and into the woods. It would be her bones the faun found. Her blood staining the earth.

Her arms tightened around the faun, as if she could bind their bones together to keep that thing from dragging her away. To her surprise, Cricket tightened her arms right back, nuzzling her damp nose against Avery’s temple and running a velvet-soft thumb along her cheekbone as the creature huffed and scraped claws along the wall.

Her touch was hypnotic. Lulling the sting from the wound on her leg and arousing every one of her senses, drawing every bit of Avery’s attention to that gentle sweep and the heart beating under her ear. To the strength in Cricket’s arms at such odds with the faun’s slight frame.

“I think it’s gone,” she whispered after a long moment, her thumb never ceasing its tender sweep. Avery tensed, waiting for the inevitable moment Cricket realized what she was doing and who she was holding. But the moment stretched, and still, she kept Avery in her arms.

“What was it?”

“Whatever chased me over the ridge.”

“The wend—”

“Don't say it’s name.”

“I saw its face.” Avery raised her head. The motion sent Cricket’s hand to cup the base of her neck. Velvet-soft fingertips dusted her throat, and the wide pools of Cricket’s eyes were trained on her. “No antlers.”

“No antlers.” She tilted her head forward, bringing them closer. The erect stand of her ears softened, the tips swiveling toward Avery. “I thought it had you. Are you hurt?”

“My skirt is ruined.”

“Oh no,” Cricket deadpanned.

“And it nicked my calf.”

“Oak and ivy, Avery.” Cricket finally blinked, releasing her from that intoxicating stare. She tipped their foreheads together, and blond curls fell forward, tickling Avery’s cheekbones and closing them off from the rest of the world. “I heard it in the woods, but it didn’t chase me. It seemed like it was waiting for something.”

Each word bloomed against her lips, a warmth sent from Cricket to fill her from top to toe. It settled in her belly and crawled up her front, and if Cricket didn’t let go, if she didn’t step away, Avery feared she’d give the faun a whole new reason to hate her.

But this doesn’t exactly feel like hate.

“Waiting for what?” she managed.

“I don’t know.” Cricket raised her head to again stare at Avery. The soft grip on her throat tightened just so. A possessive touch keeping Avery right where she stood. “It only moved when you came out, coming to the edge of the woods to watch you pace and—” Avery huffed. “What?”

Avery ducked her head, biting her lip and shaking her head. “Nothing.”

---