Page 92 of Her Wolf

Her Dark Lover

Ahard thump and a noisy rattle tore Cora from the void of sleep. She waited for her eyes to adjust, but they didn’t.

Darkness surrounded her. Shrouded her. Embraced her like a lover.

She dipped out of consciousness, waking up when her world shifted and something bumped softly against her body. She blinked hard and tried to wipe at her eyes, but her hands were bound behind her back. Her heart—already racing from such a rude awakening—began thumping in her chest.

When she tried to open her mouth, she couldn’t.

It had been taped closed.

She lay on her side, her floor shifting ceaselessly under her.

A car. She was in a trunk.

No. Dios mio, no!

Her breath grew frantic, rushing hard and fast out of her nose, and it bounced back almost immediately.

A very narrow trunk…or were there other things in here with her?

Another thump. This one sent her spilling forward, and she knocked heads with someone else.

Violent panic coursed through her. The duct tape muffled her scream as she kicked back from whoever it was that lay in front of her.

Now she could smell sweat in the air—and it wasn’t hers. Then, a hint of cologne.

A streak of light painted the inside of the trunk through one side of the ill-fitting lid. Like a photocopier’s scanner, it drew a white light down the trunk space. It moved so fast, all she had was a split second’s worth of illumination.

Cora squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing down a wail. With her mouth closed, the smells in the trunk became stronger.

The metallic stench of blood. The beefy stink of urine.

Another strobe of light passed over her eyelids. They had to be driving down a freeway—somewhere with street lamps set at regular intervals.

It took another three lights before she could will herself to open her eyes.

When the next street lamp passed overhead, she was afforded a glaringly fast view of Miguel’s dead face, inches from hers.

Mouth slack.

Dry eyes wide and staring.

Black-dried blood painting his chin and throat. He’d been stripped to his vest and boxers.

Cora let out another muffled scream, and tried moving back from the dead body. Her bare arm came away from the carpet with a squelch.

Blood.

She whimpered, squeezed her eyes shut again.

Por favor, Santa Muerte— don’t let me have a fucking heart attack. The way her heart raced, she was sure whoever opened the trunk—whenever they opened it—would find two dead bodies.

When she could breathe again, Cora opened her eyes.

There was one last strobe of light, then the car turned a sharp left and rapidly decelerated. She had barely enough time to drag her knees up, managing to keep one futile inch between her body and Miguel’s as the drop in velocity sent her tumbling forward.

Panting through her nose, Cora squeezed her eyes shut to ward off the sight of Miguel’s dead face so close to hers.

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