Page 27 of Into the Night

Ben and Evan used to make John carry one in his pack as a joke, so he’d be able to call them if he fell into a ditch or something. It can only mean one thing: someone out there is hurt. And if they’re carrying a dog whistle, they’re human. And likely someone I know.

While I’m not the strongest beast around, I can’t sit here and do nothing. Hopefully, it’s a false alarm, and it’s just someone lost or injured. But with three missing women in town already, I can’t help the icy dread that slides down my spine as I grab a rain slicker and hat, and then open the front door.

15

GRIFFIN

Maisy’s been outdoing herself with the food, keeping me stuffed to the gills, while I sulk around her guesthouse like a bear with a sore arse. I feel like there’s a dark cloud hanging over my head, following me wherever I go.

She doesn’t ask me what’s wrong, just keeps patting my arm reassuringly and feeding me more tea and buns. Right now, I wish I could move straight into the ranger accommodations, but it’s not going to happen in this weather.

Some privacy would be nice, though. I barely slept a wink last night after leaving Kali’s. The thing that lives inside me wants out, and it’s getting harder and harder to keep him at bay… I don’t want to explain why I shredded the mattress to Maisy this morning.

Staring out at the raging storm that mirrors my mood, my mind fixates on Kali. Her begging me to leave the bar this afternoon was like a dagger to my heart, and it plays over and over in my head, driving my beast into a dangerous frenzy.

He’s panicking that she won’t forgive us. That I’ve fucked things up for good. And he’s probably right.

He’s convinced he has a better way to win her around, and I’m terrified to think what that is. Given how rough I was with her, how I chased her and took her in the mud, and how he seems to think that was nothing, I can’t trust him not to hurt her.

When I woke up in the night, watching her sleeping peacefully in my arms, the moonlight through the open curtains danced across her creamy skin. A feeling of intense possessiveness gripped me, and I wanted to disturb her sleep just so I could take her again. Instead, I satisfied myself with holding her while admiring her beauty.

As I cradled her to me, the sheets slipped away, and I felt sick when I saw the mottled bruises I’d left on her slim hips, and the teeth marks on her shoulder. I wanted to bite her, much harder than I had. I wanted to brand her as mine by putting a permanent scar on her perfect skin.

What kind of man, what kind of animal, does that to someone?

I’m so conflicted. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I can’t say that I regret it, either. That was the best night of my life. Plus, Kali seemed to be pretty on board. I’ve just never been that rough with someone before. Or so out of control.

What if I’d really hurt her?

When I remember how primitive my urges were as I chased her through the trees, I don’t know if I would have been able to stop myself even if she’d said no. And that terrifies me.

Groaning, I bury my face in my hands. I should tell her to stay away from me, but I tried to leave her in peace, and it lasted less than twelve hours. I’m not sure I can ever leave her alone.

The rattle of the windows rouses me from my self-pitying stupor. The storm is in full swing outside, getting more and more wild, and the old guest house creaks and groans as the wind batters it from all sides.

Nearly every visitor has locked themselves into their rooms for the night, glad to be cosy and warm. In a way, this is a good thing. I’m forced to stay indoors, and so is Kali. The roads out of town are probably impassable at this stage.

She can’t run away, yet. And I know where she is.

When a particularly loud roll of thunder shakes the guesthouse, I hope Kali’s okay. My animal wants to go and check on her, and to make sure Jack leaves after he escorts her home, but that doesn’t seem like a good idea right now.

Forcing myself to stay put instead, I head downstairs to distract myself, gripping the bannister tightly to stop the memory of her scent from sending me to my knees. Thoughts of Kali, visions of her looking so pretty with her blonde hair in braids, keep coming to me unbidden, and I ache for her.

But I’m playing the long game. She might not forgive me today or tomorrow, but she doesn’t know I live here now, either. We’ll be seeing plenty of each other. It’s a small town. There’s no getting away now.

I remind myself of that as I stride into the kitchen, ready to pay whatever Maisy wants for another slice of her rhubarb tart. Just as I push through the door, there’s a blinding flash and a deafening crack, before a branch falls against the window, smashing the glass and scattering shards everywhere.

Maisy jumps to the side of the kitchen, her hand on her heart, and a worried look on her lined face. She lifts her hands to her cheeks, brushing back a loose strand of grey hair with trembling fingers. “Do you think it’s going to get worse?” she asks, staring out at the dark sky. “I hate thunder. It makes me so jumpy.”

Brushing past her, I usher her away from the window, where the wind is now howling in, rain splattering onto the sink and countertop through the hole.

“This is supposed to be the worst of it,” I say, trying to sound reassuring as I assess the damage done. Hopefully, the roof hasn’t taken a hit.

Raiding her utility room, I find a broom and hold it high, out of her reach as I pass. After sweeping up the debris and shoving the fallen branch back out through the window, the kitchen looks slightly less destroyed, but it’s still bitterly cold, and the floor is gleaming with wetness, making the tiles slippery.

The kitchen is officially closed for the evening.

“I’ll get this boarded up for you to keep the rain and the cold out.” I offer, remembering the extra sheets of plywood left propped up in the hallway.

---