Page 31 of Hunt Me
They’re useless anyway. Bet he couldn’t find my clit if I drew a big fat X marks the spot on it.
Bastard.
His annoying voice interrupts my spiralling hatred just as I start to mentally plot his death.
‘How about we both get cleaned up, and then we can see who gets on theirs first.’
I look back at him to see that cocky ass grin wide on his face, and his bottom lip pulled between a set of straight whiteteeth. He looks so happy with himself, like he can’t contain his excitement.
Fuck him.
He winks.
‘I’ll never get on my knees.’I spit then push away from him.
His chuckling laughter follows me.‘We’ll see about that.’
My anger is boiling up inside of me because how fucking dare he tell me I smell. Did no one tell him the cardinal rule of do not insult a woman you spent the night cuddled up to?
The bastard had to go all out and tell me I stink.
‘You don’t exactly smell like roses yourself, you know,’I spin on my heels to face him.‘In fact, you smell so bad that’s what made me hurl my guts up earlier. Your shitty ass morning breath and your shit covered clothes is not a vibe. It's giving me the ick.’
I cross my arms, satisfied with my digs. This big dick head doesn’t get to throw insults and not expect me to hurl my own back.
Ruaridh blinks at me. He just fucking blinks.
Then, as if slipping on a mask, his expression morphs back into playfulness as he holds a hand to his chest, and as if deciding to put on an extra flare of dramatics, he gasps.‘You wound me deeply,’he wipes away a fake tear.‘But what can I say? I like this new side of you. My faun has got some claws.’
I roll my eyes as he practically purrs the last few words.
This guy has some nerve.
‘But now that you’ve addressed the elephant in the room of you and your not so tactical whitey I guess it’s only fair that I informyou of the leftover chunks that so gracefully made it into your hair.’
I gasp my hand darting to smooth down the birds nest that has taken over my head. There’s not really such a thing as a good hair day in the apocalypse, but if there’s an example of a bad one, I imagine my hair right now would be it.
Just as Ruaridh had pointed out, my fingers find something both mushy and hard. Refusing to let this asshole see me affected I push down the gag my throat is forcing up and flick the pinkish substance away.
The sudden image of lying in the sewers and the boils covering the sewer cannibals come to the forefront of my mind, and it feels like my skin is about to crawl off of my body.
No no fucking no.
There is no chance I am accepting whatthatcould be in my hair. No fucking way.
Unable to hold it back, I double over, retching.
Ruaridh whistles, moving to hold my hair back as he did with my earlier bout of sickness, and I continue to dry heave, aiming for his shoes but unfortunately nothing of substance comes up.
‘If I’d known how sensitive you are I wouldn’t have told you,’he sighs.‘You try to be a gentleman, and look what it gets you…’
I shut out his rambling as I gulp down air. There’s nothing left in my stomach at this point. Still, my body has a mind of its own, obviously wanting to expel any and every memory of the suspicious substances on my body.
‘I need to get this shit off of me,’I whimper swivelling to hold onto Ruaridh’s arm.
Ruaridh’s smile fades slightly as he takes in my appearance.
‘Right. Now.’It comes out as a pleading shout, and I’m not in a position to care.
