Page 15 of The Wrong Drive-
‘Disappear, find some way to get your fix or get help, Martin,’I hear his words in my head.‘And if you choose the first, don’t fucking get caught.’
And that small spew of words is what led me here. I nabbed my dead parents old hunting cabin and made it my fucking prison for life. As long as I stay here, no one gets hurt.
Well, unless someone trespasses.
I start down the hallway, hearing the pipes fill with water. I worked hard to make sure this cabin could make it through the bitter winter, and now someone else is experiencing the benefits. I’m a selfish asshole, but it’s strangely satisfying for some reason.
Enjoy the hot water,I think as I hesitate outside of the bedroom door. I reach for the knob and turn it, opening the door in silence. I’m a fucking brute for infringing on her space like this, but also… This ismyhouse.
I pad silently across the floor to the bathroom door. It’s closed, but there’s no lock on the door. My tongue darts across my bottom lip as I hear a hum on the other side of the door. She’ssingingto herself in there. I nearly laugh, though my dick seems to like the sound of her sweet alto voice carrying through the air.
It’s the first time I’ve heard any semblance of music in years, and as I fight the urge to come unglued, I listen a little closer. I don’t recognize whatever is coming out of her mouth—but that’s not all that surprising. Again, I haven’t listened to anything in almost a decade.
Finally, it hits as I process the lyrics. She’s singing some sort of heartbreak song, and I curl my lip in disgust.
Probably her fucking boyfriend.
Thatenragesme. My fist collides with the door and it slams open, the knob going through the drywall. “Shut the fuck up,” I growl at her.
She yelps, spinning around while trying to cover herself through the foggy glass. “I-I-I’m sorry.”
I rake my gaze over what curves I can make out through the glass, suddenly turned on and pissed off, all at the same time. “I don’t want to hear you sing,” I say, sounding fucking psychotic—even to myself.
“Uh…” Her eyes hold mine, confusion and terror riddling them. “Okay. Okay, I won’t. I’m sorry. I just didn’t know.”
Fuck. Me, either. What is wrong with me?The moment causes me pause, and I slip away, heading for the staircase to the lookout. I clearly don’t remember how to blend in like I used to. I feel like the beast in the castle, only poor Belle won’t get to kiss me and turn me into a prince.
Nope, no way in hell.
I thud up the stairs, taking the blind corner and inwardly bracing as per usual. I pass the first door. It’s the room I don’t enter. It’s got nothing but reminders of who I once was.
That’s not me anymore.
Well, actually, maybe I’ve always been a psychopath, but that was back when I tried not to be. Maybe I just wore a mask and wore it well.
Hmm. Never considered that.
Regardless, now I know I’m a fucking menace to humankind. I’m the nightmare in people’s dreams. I’m a hunter that only gets a high if the blood that spills is of a person with a soul. I don’t care if it’s your father, brother, son, or uncle. A grave is a grave, and I’ve got too many in my backyard.
I open up the door to my lookout, frowning at the window with no view due to the blinding snow. I pull out the chair at my desk and take a seat, letting my mind draw back. I started out trying to work out my problems like anyone else—a therapist, medication, whatever. Then one day, I had a hunter decide to trespass on my property. He started a fight, and I took my shot, adrenaline pulsing through my veins.
And it all went downhill from there.
I started actively waiting for people to trespass, their unwanted presence triggering my broken mind. Believe it or not, it happened more often than one would think, especially during hunting season. They weren’t supposed to be here anyway, so when they got a bullet to the head, no one came here looking.
However, in a total of seven instances in the last decade, I’ve never hadthishappen. A woman has never graced this place since my mother, and Emersyn has something about her that makes my body remember its primal urges.
I start to picture her bare legs again, the way her dark hair was matted to her head in the shower, and the curvature of her hips through the foggy glass.
I drum my fingers on the desk, as my dick grows hard.Emersyn.Before I realize what I’m doing, I unbutton my jeans and set my cock free. I start to stroke, and then think of her mentioning her boyfriend. I immediately grow limp.
No, I don’t want to share her, even if I barely know her.
I conjure up a scenario where she changes her mind, where fear turns to desire, and shefallsfor the beast.
I know that’s bad,badfor me, but when I want something, I take it.
And I think IwantEmersyn Lewis.
