Page 26 of Gone Hunting

“Yeah. I mean you’re pretty, have a great bod—personality, and you’re nice. Real nice,” I add when she just looks at me.

Celia steps away, appearing guarded. “Why don’t you believe me?” I ask. “Can’t you scent that I’m telling the truth?”

“Scent?” Her brows knit. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

I move closer, immediately stopping when she tenses. “Can’t you smell a lie?”

“No,” she replies. “Can you?”

“Yes,” I tell her. “It’s one of the first things we learn asweres.”

“You forget, I wasn’t raised aroundweres,” she reminds me.

“It’s not that,” I say. “I just forget that your beast is different from mine.”

Celia edges away when I approach, giving me plenty of space when I open my drawer. I pull out a T-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts and leave them folded on top of the dresser. I disappear into the bathroom and turn on the water. When I step back into my bedroom, I realize Celia hasn’t moved.

“We have a tankless water heater,” I explain, hooking my thumb in the direction of the bathroom. “It takes a moment for the water to heat, but once it does, you won’t run out. I left you some towels, a toothbrush and everything you might need.” I sigh, not wanting to leave her, but recognizing she needs privacy. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the room next door.”

I grab a pair of shorts and shoot out of the room, shutting the door behind me.

It takes all I have not to swear out loud. I wish I could have said more, or at least said enough to console her. Celia is a stranger in my house and in this state. There are scary monsters lurking around, and earthquakes and tornados striking without warning.

I press my forehead against the door, speaking low. “Goodnight, Celia.”

I don’t think she hears me, until her sweet voice whispers against the door. “Goodnight, Aric.”

Chapter Seven

I moan, the soft cotton sheets sliding between my legs as I wrap my arms tighter around Celia.

Celia?

Oh,no.

We leap out of bed. The force she uses slamming her back against the wall. In my haste, I tangle the sheet around my ankle and fall on my ass.

“What are you doing in here?” she demands.

“Ah,” is my response.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” she screeches.

My eyes widen when I realize she’s not dressed. She’s standing there, holding my comforter pressed against her barely covered breasts as her bed-tousled curls fall around her face. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not much better,” she snaps.

I yank my ankle free and stand. “I meant I don’t know how I got here.”

She looks to the window, then to the open bedroom door, then at me. “How did you get in here?”

“I have no idea,” I reply. “I went to bed, I fell asleep, and that’s all I remember.”

My mouth stops moving when she bends to retrieve the clothes I gave her. They’re torn as if ripped from her body. She lifts the pieces carefully and takes a sniff.

Anger darkens my tone. “Idid notdo that.”

She lowers the torn fabric away from her nose, her expression pained. “I know.”

---