Hunted (The Feral Souls Trilogy #1)

by Erica Woods

This was not the same. The past was dead. Gone. This time it would be different. I would be different. I would protect Hope, and I would protect my pack. Or see the world burn as I died with them.

Every time I caught a glimpse of my sunken cheeks, the dark circles under my eyes, the limp length of my hair, and the grotesque push of ribs against skin, I was reminded of my time at the compound. Dread, terror, shame . . .

Why should I care that Jason was a womanizer? Just because I was woefully inexperienced didn’t mean I should judge Jason for the . . . stuff he did with all his women. Hope, you’re a grown ass woman, you can at least think the word ‘sex.’

I could only bring danger into their lives. Danger and misery and secrets I could never, ever reveal. And what about Ruarc? And Ash? And the strange feelings they’d both invoked in me on separate occasions? It was wrong. I was wrong.

Despite my fear of him, another feeling stirred . . . Compassion. Don’t be stupid, Hope. For all you know there is no great tragedy in his past and he was just born mean.

Lucien threw me off balance. His icy stare and cold contempt upset the small fragments of frail equilibrium I clung to for dear life. He unsettled me. Shook me in a way that left my soul quivering in a dark corner, confused by the mix of emotions he stirred. And being around someone who hated me without trying to fix it went against my nature. I wanted Lucien to like me. Or if not like me, to at least stop hating me.

“Just because I don’t want to talk a-about . . . about what h-happened to m-me . . .” My voice broke, and out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw Lucien stiffen. I licked my suddenly dry lips before continuing, voice weak and shaking. “It d-doesn’t mean I’m plotting against you.

How did I explain my need to feel useful, to not be the useless creature I had been my whole life, trapped and alone.

food and muttering under his breath. The whole thing was a disaster. The cooking had been fun, but Ruarc clearly disliked being around me. Not that I blamed him. Always saying the wrong thing, always doing the wrong thing . . . it felt terrible, like a weight around my heart.

Claws shot out from my fingers as the familiar, hot fury filled me. I threw my head back and roared. I roared for the female, for the horror she’d been through, and for my past—the hideous betrayal that had left me too scarred to be any good to anyone. But most of all, I roared for the loss. The loss of something I hadn’t even had a chance to experience.

“You are not dirty,” I pushed out, swallowing twice around the painful lump in my throat. “You are strong and resilient, and no matter what they did to you”—my hands shook as I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her against my chest—“you are not dirty.

Listen,” I emphasized, knowing how important it was that my next point stuck, “you cannot be held responsible for anything you did in the name of survival. And you cannot, you cannot, hold yourself responsible for what was done to you.”

What was happening? The crackling tension between the two men had the back of my nape prickling with sensation. I was lost. And uncomfortable. Something was happening here, something important that, for the life of me, I couldn’t understand. All I knew was that my skin crawled, my heart felt too big for my chest, my gums itched, and my body felt too small.

Who was this dratted female who’d invaded our territory and made a home in its heart? Who had she once been? And who had put the deep shadows in her eyes? A sudden, irrational urge to find the blackguard responsible raged through me.

I would find out eventually, and either way I would protect my brothers against making a mistake that would end them. Jerking my head around, I stared out at the passing landscape. This too would end. In a hundred years from now, I doubted I would even remember the name ‘Hope.’

When he started walking he lay his arm across my shoulder and chest, forearm resting against my collar bone, pressing my back against his front with every step we took. The restrictive hold should have scared me, made alarm bells go off in my head, but instead, all my muscles relaxed. A sigh slipped between my parted lips, my heart slowed down, and my head felt heavy enough that tipping it back and leaning it against the broad chest at my back felt natural.

He dragged me back against his body, giving me a quick squeeze, before leaning down to whisper in my ear, “Proud of you.”

Proud of you. Three little words, uttered in that deep, gruff voice, and suddenly I felt lighter. Proud of you.

It was silly, getting so wound up over such casual praise, but it was the first time anyone had told me they were proud of me since I was a child. Since the before. Before my monster made its presence known. Before I had taken a life. Before I had become a prisoner in every way a person could.

Lips brushed my temple, a quick, soft nuzzle that short-circuited all my senses and sent my mind reeling. I lifted a shaking hand, touching the blazing skin Ruarc had caressed with such gentle affection—

Outside, the sun shone, warm tendrils of light caressing exposed skin while a slight breeze ruffled hair and clothing alike. I didn’t feel it. The only heat my skin absorbed was Ruarc’s. The only air teasing at my nape was Ruarc’s hot breath as he leaned down to whisper a reassurance in my ear. His scent surrounded me, his protective presence both shielded and chased away fear. From the moment he’d pulled me against his chest until the time he gently deposited me in my seat—buckling me in like I was something precious to be protected—no fear nipped at my heels, and my mind was blissfully at ease.

“I just wanted to warn you.” “Yes?” Lucien’s voice was pure silk. “Some guy . . .” The boy cleared his throat. “Some guy has been going around making people uncomfortable. A stranger. He’s been acting real shady, even old guy Gus thinks so. He told Da to keep Jenny home ‘till the stranger’s gone.” Ruarc crossed his arms and stared. “Uhm . . . Word ‘round town is he’s staring at all the ladies.” Here the boy threw a quick glance my way. Ruarc’s stare became a glare. “Looks too intently. Bad intentions, that one.”

Whatever else they said was drowned out by the roar in my ears. Jan. The kid is describing Jan.

Jan. Jan was here. He was here, looking at women. Hunting. Hunting me.

The Hunters were looking for me. I knew they would be, I knew. So why couldn’t I breathe? Why couldn’t I think? Why were red spots dancing across the back of my closed eyelids? A ragged gasp flew from the bottom of my lungs. The Hunters were here. They’d . . . they’d found me.

If the Hunters were here . . . It doesn’t mean they’ve found me. True. The place would be crawling with Hunters if they knew I was near. So what did it mean? Why was Jan there?

Find the Hunters’ weakness, use it against them, make sure they can never hurt anyone ever again.

I was only one person. One weak, cowardly person. What difference could I really make?

For today, at least, I would pretend none of the rest mattered. That I was home. That the guys were my family and that I was not a monster. For today I would pretend the noose around my neck wasn’t tightening with every second I stayed. That leaving was a choice, rather than an inevitability. Only for today.

Trying to diffuse the puzzling tension, I turned to Jason. “How did you smell the pepperoni when all the pizzas were on top of each other, and all had the lid on?” His eyes sparkled. “Ah! Genetic superiority, love. But don’t fret,” he added with such dramatic flourish I couldn’t quite stop my mouth from pulling up into a reluctant smile. “Very few are blessed with my excellent genes so you needn’t feel bad. Just look at Lucien, over there. Terrible genetics.”

“Enchanted by beauty, are you?” There was no expression on his face, no emotion. “It is to be expected, I suppose, from someone who has none of their own.” My mouth fell open on a silent protest. What did he— Had he just said— Oh my god . . . I cringed. I knew I was no great beauty, but to say it to my face . . . and in front of others, guys I admired and—

“You cold-hearted bastard!” Ruarc roared, teeth flashing dangerously.

Jason snarled words were no less hard, “You should be ashamed of yourself, Lucien! Telling lies and hurting a female for no other reason than—” “Fools.” With a voice that was as quiet as it was lethal, Lucien rose. “You are both fools. Trailing behind the wench like pups not yet out of their dens. What possible reason . . .” The words died off, and I felt his gaze like a burning touch.

Why had I not laughed at Lucien’s insult? Being called ugly was far from the worst thing that had been thrown my way. So why did it hurt? Why did my face burn and my throat feel tight and scratchy? “I . . .” Lucien shook his head, dismay etched across his marble face as he stared at me. Ruarc swiveled around, followed Lucien’s gaze. A fierce frown twisted his expression, a low, threatening sound spilling from his throat.

Heat engulfed me as his big body curled around me. Protecting me. Shielding me from Lucien and his harsh truths. “He’s a fucking moron.”

Then Jason was there, no trace of his previous humor left on his suddenly hard face. While Ruarc held me, murmuring foreign words into my hair, Jason leaned down and cupped my cheek. “He is wrong,” he whispered, tilting my face to meet his determined, amber eyes. “You are beautiful.”

Jason’s lie, well meaning as it was, felt like a kick to the chest—and I knew what that felt like, having experienced several. It was almost worse than Lucien’s hateful words, for at least Lucien was honest in his dislike.

Jason was leaning in as well, stroking my back in slow, soothing circles. And while I was here, surrounded by his closest friends, his family, Lucien was upstairs. Alone. After having been chased out of his own living room by a woman he detested. Guilt sat like lead in my belly.

A heavy sigh, a warm touch. “What he said is not the truth. Not the world’s truth, and not his truth.”

Another lie. I gripped Ruarc’s shirt tighter—comforted by the low rumble echoing in his chest—determined to shut out words bringing only more humiliation. Did they think I couldn’t handle the truth? Did I appear so weak that I couldn’t even stand to be called ugly? Appearances didn’t matter. Life mattered. Freedom mattered. Having people who loved you . . .

“It’s okay,” I said softly. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know I’m not pretty, and that’s okay. Really,” I added as three pairs of eyes stared at me in disbelief. “I’d actually prefer it if you were all just honest and admitted you agree with Lu—” “Not a chance!” Ruarc snarled, squeezing me so tight I let out a pained whimper.

I couldn’t bring myself to actually believe that they found me even close to beautiful—and I couldn’t allow myself to care—but despite my lack of faith in their words, the fact that they cared enough to comfort me, to offer lies that surely tasted sour on their tongues was heartwarming in its own way.

“Still looking for Kieran?” The hand holding the wood steady clenched. “What else would I be doing?” “I don’t know.” A grin tugged at my lips. “Practicing the art of seduction?” Lucien turned. “What?” “Hey, I don’t know what you do with your free time, and I don’t judge.” Ice filled his eyes. “Do you not?” Was he referring to last night? That quick, my humor drained. “Only when people act like dicks.”

How did some people come through horrors coated with kindness and compassion, while others became tainted by it?

Making the sweet human smile had become something of a game to me. A game where the prize was witnessing the fruit of my labor and knowing I was the reason her lips parted and her small, white teeth flashed.

“I don’t really care why he took her, only that the bastard did.”

Can’t pursue her without telling her what we are, can’t tell her unless she’s bound to us. A shot of adrenaline spiked my heartbeat. Why was I thinking about pursuing our guest? And why the fuck did that make my dick hard?

I rolled my eyes. “Okay so . . . We keep them away from Hope, make sure we’re on the same page with this whole Rederick thing, warn them about Mason, and convince them that sleeping in the stable is for their benefit.” I grinned. “What could go wrong?”

I looked up, past his broad shoulders, past his scar, past the dark scruff covering his jaw. My breath hitched. The look in his molten, silver eyes made something low in my belly clench. He dipped his chin, stared down at me in a way that was purely Ruarc; pushing, demanding, sheltering. And offering all of himself for me to judge.

The way his big palm engulfed mine, the way his other hand held my elbow, guiding me over a root here and a big rock there, the way he kept scanning the landscape as if making sure no threat loomed in the distance made me feel protected. Cared for. Intellectually, I knew these gestures of protectiveness wouldn’t save me from an attack if the Hunters found me, but somehow, being near him, having him take care of me in his very Ruarc-y way . . . It made me feel safe.