Page 4 of Ravaging Red
Itownedme.
The sound echoed through the woods and slammed straight between my thighs, vibrating in my core like a live wire. My body answered without permission, hips tilting, thighs clenching, heat flooding my panties until I was soaked through.
I moaned back. A breathy, broken sound that tore from my throat like a deadly promise filled with need.
Mine, the wind whispered again, closer this time. Harsher.
And I believed it. Because no matter how hard I tried to deny it, some twisted, hungry part of me wanted to be hunted. I wanted to be caught, branded, and broken.
I wantedhim.
Fear grabbed me by the throat, and my instinct was to run. I wasn’t thinking, as my legs moved faster than my mind. I could feel my lungs burning, my heart pounding hard against my ribs. I had no clue where I was going. No real sense of what I was running from, or worse, what I might be running toward.
The bag at my side thudded against my thigh with each frantic step, the strap digging into my shoulder, the weight a harsh reminder of why I was in these woods in the first place. I had no idea what I was doing. My mother’s warning kept running through my mind:
Stay away from the woods, Red. You have no idea what happens to little girls who don’t listen to their mothers.
I shook away my mother’s warning as I continued to run deeper into the woods. Branches clawed at my cloak, those greedy fingers kept grabbing and ripping at me, trying to hold me back. The scent of moss and damp earth filled my nostrils, enveloping me in this odd comfort, grounding me.
But no matter how fast I went, the path twisted beneath me, slick and unpredictable. Stones shifted causing my ankles to twist. Roots reared up to trip me. The Hollow Woods were alive, and they weren’t letting me go. Every turn led deeper. Every panic-stricken step sank me further into its massive dark hole.
He was hunting me.
I couldfeelit. It was in the thickness in the air, the way my skin prickled in warning, the way my body tingled with every step. It was as ifhealready knew every inch of me, inside and out. I was something he’dwantedfor a long time.
I stumbled into a clearing, my boots skidding over the slick earth and wet leaves. My chest heaved, pulling in too muchair, as I tried to decide what to do. The sky above looked like cracked glass between jagged treetops, filtering the moonlight into broken shards that pierced the ground. The moon above me had turned a bright red and it seeped through the clouds like blood.
I spun wildly. Feeling desperate and alone.
But still, I neither saw nor heard anything. Not a single sound. Not even a whisper of the winds or the flutter of birds.
But I couldfeelhim circling just beyond the trees. A low, dark pulse thrummed in the dirt beneath me. It was as if the woods themselves were thrumming out a warning… or a welcome. The predator didn’t need to be seen. He lived in this space between fear and longing. And he’d found the perfect crack in me.
I needed to hide, but how? I already knew he had my scent.
Through my haze of panic, I saw it. The cabin. My Nana’s old hunting lodge. It looked like it had clawed its way out of the earth and decided to rot quietly where it stood. The porch was crooked, the railing splintered and sagging. The door hung slightly ajar, groaning on its rusted hinges. Ivy choked the stone foundation, and moss blanketed the roof like a shroud.
But candlelight flickered inside. It was soft, warm, and oddly inviting.
Hope clawed up my throat, and I swallowed hard as I ran toward the front door. Maybe she was there. Maybe I wasn’t alone. Maybe…
I stumbled up the steps, boots slamming against warped wood, my fingers fumbling over the doorframe as I pushed my way in. The air inside was heavy with warmth and the faint scent of beeswax and dried herbs. Shadows danced on the walls, long and flickering with menace as they twisted into unnatural shapes. The candlelight sputtered in a metal holder on the mantle, casting everything in a low, golden glow.
But even before I crossed the threshold, Iknew. Deep in the aching pit of my stomach, where my instincts told me truths I didn’t want to face. I’d been wrong. My Nana wasn’t here. She hadn’t been here in a long, long time. The air didn’t carry her scent or her motherly presence. The silence had not heard her footsteps in a long time.
Buthedid.
He was here.
Waiting.
His musky scent hit me like a blow. Stronger now. Saturating every surface. Every breath I took felt like him, tasted like him. And then I saw them. The footprints on the dusty floor. Massive, padded, clawed footprints.
I froze.
And in the silence that followed, I felt it settle over me like a collar.
Claimed.
