Hunted (The Feral Souls Trilogy #1)

by Erica Woods

“If you are ever in trouble and I’m not around, go find your uncle Gavril. Gavril Sânrigla.”

The comforting voice of my father slipped away, and my eyes shot open. That first breath was glass shredding my lungs.

The Hunters had never allowed me to get this close to death before. Torture, yes. Horrifying experiments, yes. But not death. Not until a few months ago. Something had changed. There’d been a new desperation in their quest to break me, to force the monster to the surface.

With the image of Matthew’s bloody and beaten face seared into my mind, I wrenched the door open before I could reconsider.

I took a step. And then another. Chills traveled up my spine, a cold hand squeezed my heart and whipped it into a gallop. Each step defied the Hunters. Each step increased the punishment I’d receive if I were caught.

When I came to the top of the stairs, my whole body shook. Two doors separated me from freedom. The first—the one looming before me—opened up to a narrow hall that snaked down dim corridors and eventually led back to my cell. The second lay just beyond this one. It occupied the right wall just a few feet into the hall, and the prisoners knew it well. We were marched past that door every time we were brought down to the torture room. Always unlocked, it led right outside, the path to freedom so close we could almost taste the wind.

temerity.

Such a good word! I love this as an alternative to audacity!

With a trembling hand, I opened the first door and prepared to run. No voices rose in a cacophony of threats or commands to stop. No Hunters aimed weapons my way. The last door was right there—narrow and metallic, an unarmed, unlocked obstacle standing only a short sprint away. I ran.

The first touch of the sun after eighteen years underground was not at all how I’d imagined. The rays were not soft and gentle on my face, nor did they disperse the chill in my bones. No peace flooded my system, no hope bloomed in my chest.

The sun . . . the thing I’d dreamed of seeing all these years was jeopardizing everything. The escape almost within reach, the freedom I could feel in the breeze whipping my dirty, blood-streaked hair around my face, and the life I’d clung to with such quiet fervor I wondered if the Hunters hadn’t managed to break me after all. I lifted my hand to block the sharp rays burning my corneas and tried to control my growing terror. Have to move. Have to run.

For the first time in years, I willingly reached inside myself to the monster lurking there and asked for its strength. It came, but slowly, reluctantly. And it hurt. A punishing, angry hurt that screamed of disuse and tasted of sullen disappointment.

Then the alarm gave off another unholy screech, and bile rose in my throat. Run! a voice screamed in my head. Run!

My best chance of survival lay past the Hunters, down the worn, dirt road.

The alarm stopped, and for one blessed moment, the emotion I was named after—hope—soared through me.

They were trying to kill me.

Shocking...

Forcing my body to cooperate, I staggered to my feet and reached deep inside for my resting monster. The path felt paved with tar, resisting, slow, and when I tried calling the beast, begging for its strength, I felt its reluctance, its exhaustion. But it answered the call, and I didn’t know if I should be grateful or terrified.

My body, exhausted from hours of running and bursts of adrenaline, filled with dormant power. It tasted of darkness. Of untamed wildness. And again, I knew despair. How can you use the very thing that ruined your life?

“I just love how Ruarc’s accent gets thicker and thicker the angrier he gets,” Jason said, voice filled with such obnoxious glee it was a wonder—and a shame—he didn’t choke on it.

A flash of pale skin, the glistening darkness that could only mean blood, and huge, startled eyes was all I saw before my head smashed into the side window.

Ash said nothing, attention drawn to something outside. I followed his gaze and saw a pair of the biggest, most soulful brown eyes I’d ever seen. Huge, guileless, and rounded with such terrible despair my stomach dropped.

A car had to pass by soon. Though what I’d do when that happened was anyone’s guess. The best I could hope for was a place to spend the night, far away from this place and the Hunters on my trail.

I needed a place to sleep. Just for a little while. And when I woke up, maybe I could try to make my way north. But even if I somehow got all the way to Canada without money, identification, and the Hunters killing me, how would I find my uncle?

A soft, pained cry crawled up my throat. My vision grew cloudy. I was free. Free. Then why did I feel as though I was trapped in a coffin about to be buried?

A deafening roar echoed in my ears. I turned. Froze. Watched as two blinding lights barreled down the road straight at me. Moving was beyond me. Breathing proved impossible. Instead, I stood rooted to the spot as the car careened toward me.

The man stopped right away, standing so still he almost disappeared into the night. His piercing gaze never wavered, never left my face, and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he put his hands out—palms up—and hunched his shoulders. “Do not be afraid,” he said quietly. “We will not hurt you.” His voice was smooth and reassuring, calm and controlled, like listening to the gentle ripples of a still ocean lapping at cliffs above. I caught myself leaning toward him, wanting his soothing, almost monotone voice to take away my fear and do the impossible; make me feel safe. Contained power rolled off him in waves I could almost feel brush against my skin. Searching. Prodding. Assessing. And with it, a strange tranquility. It seeped from him, brushing against me until even my inner monster seemed calmer.

A scream lodged in my throat as a menacing figure loomed above me. He was by far the scariest looking man I’d ever seen. The sheer size of him overloaded my senses; his fierce scowl made my stomach dip and roll. I’d never seen a bigger, more vicious-looking example of masculine power in my life. He seemed like an escaped animal, all wild, furious strength.

The beast leaned closer, his face only a hairsbreadth away from mine. A strange, intriguing scent teased my senses. This close my eyes automatically zoomed in on the jagged, white line starting at the left of his nose, running past his lips, and ending just under his strong jawline. A warrior’s scar.

My muscles tensed, readying for flight at the way his narrowed gaze focused on me. His head dipped down and he . . . Sniffed? Did the beast just smell me? I turned my head sideways and drew a small, discreet breath in through my nose. Ewww! I smelled like dirt, blood, and sweat. Embarrassed, and confused as to why I was embarrassed, I cringed. But why should I care what the big, scary man thought of me? I’d been tortured, nearly killed. If anyone was entitled to stink, it was me!

In captivity, I’d learned that the expectation of pain was almost as bad as the pain itself, especially when I knew exactly what was to come.

Even though Ash exuded a quiet confidence, I could sense the restrained power in him. It showed in the predatory gait he couldn’t quite hide, his easy steps, and broad shoulders. So yeah, Ash was scary in his own deceptively calm way, but Ruarc was downright terrifying. There was nothing deceptive about him, just pure masculine power wrapped in a beastly exterior obviously meant for destruction. If someone were to ask me what I thought he did for a living, I would’ve guessed he was an ancient Viking warrior who relished in his choice of profession of raiding and maiming.

does not matter to us what you are running from—yes, it is clear you are running,” Ash said when I drew in a quick, startled breath. “We almost ran you over with our car. The least we can do is offer you a safe place to spend the night. And a warm meal. I promise you, you are free to leave whenever you want. We just want to make sure you are healthy enough to do so.”

I had never cared about my looks, or lack thereof, before. So why did Lucien get to me? Maybe it wasn’t what he’d said, but how he’d said it. And that the others had heard him. I felt devalued and small. And worried. What if they left me here to fend for myself? A few minutes ago I hadn’t even been planning on going with them, and now I was worried about being left behind. If I caused conflict between them, they would surely decide I wasn’t worth the effort.

I needed help. Just for tonight. When my wounds were cleaned and my belly was full, I would head out on my own. After a little nap, maybe. If they let me. God, I’m pathetic.

Someone had to make sure Hope was looked after, and ever since she’d squared her shoulders and met my gaze head on, her wounded eyes pleading for someone to show her some kindness, I’d wanted that someone to be me.

Her eyes were glued to her clenched hands on the table, which annoyed the shit out of me. Want those eyes on me. Bloody hell . . . Didn’t just want those eyes on me, wanted to learn all her secrets, the reason for that stark pain in her eyes. Wanted to help her through the nightmare that haunted her, to destroy her enemies.

“Want to tell us what happened to you, love?”

“I . . . I fell.” My hands clenched and disappointment soured my mouth. Why would she protect the bastard who did this to her?

“Ignore the grumpy bastard, little Hope. He continuously gets out of bed on the wrong side.” I kicked Jason under the table, ignoring his choked laugh, and turned to the little female. “No lies.” I detested lies. Either tell the truth or keep quiet. There was no honor in lies.

“I just . . . I can’t go back!”

“Never,” I swore, meaning it with every fiber of my being.

I wanted to maim and kill the fucker who’d hurt her, to really make him suffer. Those that prey on the innocent need to die. Painfully.

Where the fuck is Lucien? I thought darkly. He was always up for some sparring, and I had to get this fucked up day out of my system before I went on a rampage and destroyed every single room in the house.

“Do not dare apologize.” The command was quiet. Deadly. “You have nothing, nothing, to be sorry for.” Tears filled my eyes again, and this time I didn’t bother trying to stop them. I felt like I had been living in a deep, dark abyss of pain, dread, and loneliness, but now . . . now someone was there, throwing me a rope, offering me a lifeline—if I was brave enough to grab it.

A man who feels pain when those around him feel pain won’t intentionally hurt anyone else. Not unless they have to.

Scrambling out from the covers, heart beating erratically, pulse pounding, I ran my hands down my body, feeling for clean skin, for patches without grime. There were none. A huge sigh of relief left my distressed lungs and I collapsed back down. They didn’t bathe me.

When I’d remembered the blood and dirt coating my skin and seen the contrast to these clean, fresh sheets, I’d known a moment of stark panic. Too dirty for this untarnished white, I’d thought. And I desperately didn’t want any of the guys to see me naked. My undernourished, damaged body aside, being naked in front of anyone, especially while unconscious, left me feeling like hundreds of insects were trying to crawl up my throat and out of my mouth.

I reluctantly limped over to the door. The moment the lock clicked, I jumped back, half expecting Ruarc to burst in with that terrifying roar he’d used on Jason. Instead, he slowly pushed the door open and lowered his gaze to the floor. It looked wrong. Unnatural. I’d never seen him look anything less than wholly in control. Assertive and dominant. This display of self-doubt didn’t suit his character at all.

Ash moved like the offspring of a ghost and a tiger—feet not making a sound, muscles rolling beneath taut skin, pace sure and unhurried.

“Hi,” I said warily, worried he was angry with the way I’d behaved this morning. At my tone, he halted. The bright light streaming through the windows bathed him in a faint glow, and eyes that had made me think of stormy oceans last night now seemed to glow with a bright, white light. The pale blue roamed over my body, lingering on my bruised lip, exposed stomach and bandaged leg. And once he’d finished his inspection, his gaze moved to capture mine and time stood still. A connection flared to life between us, bright and beautiful. I could hardly breathe. I wanted to reach out and touch the invisible thread that linked us, but before I could move it shattered, leaving me with a feeling of such stark isolation that, for a moment, I felt completely and utterly alone.

“Did you . . . did you just sniff me?” My voice shook. I hated being embarrassed, and the low simmer of irritation growing in my chest was startling. Feelings like anger had been useless to me for so long I’d forgotten how it felt. When showing any form of heated emotion resulted in more pain, one quickly learned to suppress the dangerous emotions. Over time I’d stopped feeling them all together.