Page 55 of Prey Tell
Besides, I know that eventually, fifteen miles from here, there is a road that intersects the forest completely.
I won’t get lost again.
I’ve spentyearspouring over the maps after the incident. I never make the same mistake twice, and I’m not about to start now.
She presses her lips together and looks back toward the castle. “Haven’t you ever seen those shows where the people get lost in the forest and die because they eat poisonous berries?”
My lips twitch, but I don’t let myself smile. It’s a valid fear. “I have. Are you afraid we’ll get lost?”
I fucking hope not.
She nods. “Or run out of water. Or food. Or—”
“Parker,” I growl, stepping closer to her. “We’ve been walking for five minutes. Forget those shows. They use scare tactics to draw in viewers. Stuff like that works the same way as drugs or sugar. They pull you in, giving you an adrenaline rush so that you crave more. Humans nowadays are used to about one hundred times the adrenaline we’re supposed to experience,” I mutter. “Between click-bait news, social media pushing scary stories in front of our faces, and people not allowing themselves to relax—ever—it’s a wonder we’re all still functioning.”
She opens and closes her mouth, looking around.
“Can you do something for me?” I ask.
“What?” she asks.
“Lie down.”
“In the dirt?” she asks.
I nod. “Yes. Lie down on your back and close your eyes.” She looks down at the ground. “It’s just dirt, Parker.”
She eyes me warily as she drops down onto the floor, finding a comfortable place to lie down flat and close her eyes. I let my eyes skim over her body for a few seconds before I lie down next to her, and I hear her sharp inhale.
“What next?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I say calmly, closing my eyes as I lace my fingers together over my chest. “Just… listen.”
“To what?” she asks.
I huff a laugh. “To the sounds. To your pulse. To your breathing. I want you to listen to what’s happening to your body. Don’t think of your job, or Jackson, or me. Just pay attention to the things you can see, feel, hear, taste, and touch.”
“Taste?” she asks.
“Don’t be mouthy.”
“Fine. I will try it.”
I smirk. “Good.”
“How will we know an hour has passed without a phone?” she asks.
“Maybe it’ll be forty minutes. Maybe it’ll be an hour and a half. Let go of the concept of time.”
I can practically hear her squirming next to me, but I let her calm herself down as I rest my eyes.
Truth be told, I have no idea what I’m doing. Sure, I can act primal during a scene, but in real life? It’s all new to me, too. I’m the goddamn president of Ravage Consulting Firm. We’re not exactly leading meditation groups on the daily. But Parker needs to learn how torelax.If this is going to work, she’s going to need to ignore her lists and rational thought. Most primal play isirrationalto people like her, but once she lets go, it will start to feel completely natural, exactly like it did for me all those years ago.
Parker huffs a few little sighs from next to me. Then come the jerky movements—and the way she moves slightly to get more comfortable.
She’s the opposite of relaxed.
“I feel like there are ants crawling all over me,” she says, her voice resigned.
