Page 130 of Cruel Games

Coyote was the most unassuming one of them all, but I knew there was a hidden cunning beneath his broody, silent demeanor. He wouldn’t lie to me, but he had ulterior motives in helping me ‘hunt,’ as he put it.

I needed to know what those motives were.

“Aren’t you going to tell the others?”

“No need.” He shuffled in place, clearly waiting for me to give him some direction.

I ground my teeth so hard they felt like they might break. “Go. Home. Coyote.”

His hand slammed against the tree I leaned against, caging me halfway in as he leaned in and sniffed my neck. “I’m staying.”

I ducked under his arm and rolled my eyes. “Fine. Let’s go.”

As soon as I had him following the trail, trusting me again, I took off into the dark, dodging and weaving until I lost him in the wooded area around the park.

It was too dark for him to find me on sight, and if I didn’t move, he’d miss me by a mile, even if he was listening for any sign of movement. As long as he didn’t by some act of God walk right into me, I was safely hidden. Eventually, he’d assume I ditched him, and leave.

And then I could continue my self-destructive path in peace.

I leaned against the tree and made myself as small as possible, breathing slowly and deeply so as to avoid giving myself away. Still, I flinched when he passed right beside me, inches away from my nose, his every muscle tensed as he stared off in the wrong direction and twitched in hunter mode. hello

Please keep going, please keep going, please keep?—

Like lightning striking, his hand shot out andgripped me around the throat, pinning me in place. I had a two-second window that I could have run, and now, it was gone. And in its place was a strange, heady feeling as that hand tightened around my throat, dragging me against him with a snarl.

“My name is Santiago,” he snarled as his lips crashed down on mine, searching, demanding, greedy, and desperate for a taste, “and I refuse to let you go.”

Like a switch had been flipped, he took us to the ground, his hand behind my head to stabilize me and keep me from hitting the dirt completely. His other hand stroked down the side of my face, moving off my throat to caress me like?—

“You are mine, and I am yours, Ivy.”

Was he going to fuck me right here in this damned half-assed forest? On the ground? Like a goddamned animal?

His free hand grabbed my shirt and shoved it up, baring my stomach to his touch. “I need you,” he growled, his voice quiet but menacing, desperate, hungry, and raw. My bat lay in the dirt beside me, abandoned but not too far away. If I could just inch a little to the right, I could put my fingers around the handle and?—

I realized with a start that Coyote had stopped moving, his whole body stilled atop mine, his breathing even and unhurried.

Did he really just fall asleep on top of me?

His soft snores confirmed what I suspected.

The broken part of me slowly knitted herself back together, surprise shifting the desperate desire to get away into a need to take care of the man who’d been so exhausted looking for me that he’d collapsed when he finally found me.

I had no choice, really. I couldn’t leave him here alone. And I’d ditched Dingo’s bike by the Guild this morning, in a bunch of Lilly’s thorny rose bushes that were long past blooming this year. That meant I’d have to drag him or carry him, and I didn’t have anywhere to keep him safe in South End.

I had to take him back to the Guild.

The last place I wanted to go.

But I couldn’t leave him here to be victimized and die. The Southies would get him. That first one was an easy mark. The others might not be so slow.

“Okay, big guy, you fucking owe me,” I grunted, shifting his weight to my back to carry his muscled ass back to where he’d be safe. I somehow managed to kick the bat up into my other hand, and set off, hoping it was still early enough that I didn’t have to drop him anywhere and fight off a horde of unstable psychos, probably better armed than I was.

Saving his life was more important than the forfeiture of mine.

The guards spottedme as I slowly walked up the drive, but they didn’t bother to stop me. Lilly St. Clair met me at the front doors, though, flanked by none other than two of her Commandos. I recognized the friendlier one, Doc, who had patched up plenty of people since I started staying here, as well as the cunning, sharp-edged one on her other side, wearing that familiar, chilling half-Oni mask.

“You look rough,” Lilly pointed out, her eyes soft despite her words. “Need some help?”

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