We were stuck here—together and alone. There was no mistaking the predatory edge that had crept into his expression and I was no squeamish virgin.
The fingers under my chin drifted up, spreading across my cheek. I held still. His gaze dropped to my mouth and then farther down, his stare so intense it felt like a caress.
His lips slipped into a smile that did nothing to ease the stark lust in his face. “Oh, Serena, you really have no idea of what kind of shit you’ve stepped in.”
Chapter 8
After Hunter had disappeared into the study with explicit orders to not even think about stepping foot outside the cabin, I ran through my options. Going home was stupid, but staying here wasn’t any smarter. I only had the clothes on my back, but that wasn’t the problem. I’d found my purse in the bedroom—thank God, Hunter had the sense to grab that minus my cell phone, but I only had a couple of twenties in my wallet. Not enough cash to get me back home. My credit cards were there, but I was too wary of using them since they could easily be tracked.
I had old college friends all over the States. There was Vee Winters, a fellow psych grad, who lived in Tennessee. Vee would send me money no questions asked and would open her door to me, but I needed a phone.
I hadn’t seen a single one in the house.
Hours passed as I bounced from one room to another. The sunroom quickly became my favorite place in the house. With all the plants, it gave the illusion of being outside —and not caged up all alone with the sexiest and rudest alien in the universe.
I wondered if he’d found a shirt yet.
The sunroom was several degrees warmer and tall, thick mountain ash and elm provided some privacy, but if someone were standing out front, they could see everything going on within the lower part of the cabin due to the floor-to-ceiling windows.
My stomached knotted as I considered my plans. At night, I would leave. I had to.
Panic had built all day, spreading like a noxious weed. I felt trapped—I was trapped —and I had to get out of here, find some place in town that had a phone, and then, once I got to Vee’s house, I’d figure out what to do next.
When the sun started to go down, I stopped outside the study door and listened. I couldn’t hear a thing but knew he hadn’t left the room. If he’d gone all smoky alien, I still would have seen him at some point. He was in there, maybe asleep.
Hurrying upstairs, I grabbed my ID and the cash. Slipping my credit cards in my back pocket, I hoped I didn’t need to use them but wanted to be prepared. I checked the study once more, and when I heard nothing, I crept back through the living room.
At the entrance to the house, I squeezed my eyes shut and slowly, carefully unlocked the front door. The click sounded like thunder to me.
Glancing over my shoulder, I expected Hunter to bust through the study door and tackle me, but when it didn’t happen, I murmured a little prayer and inched open the door far enough for me to slip out. I closed it at the rate of an ant’s crawl, wincing as it shut into place.
I turned around, tucking my hair back behind my ears. Hands and legs trembling, I darted around potted flowers that threw a heavy, sweet scent into the air, and dashed down the steep staircase that led off the deck and onto a gravel driveway. Cursing the flip-flops I was wearing, I hurried along. With the sun quickly fading, I knew it would only be a matter of time before I couldn’t see a foot in front of me. There was no artificial light out here—no lampposts or streetlights. Once the sun went down… I refused to think about it.
Deep shadows were already invading the thick, imposing trees crowding the driveway. There was no doubt in my mind there were a lot of furry creatures big and small in the woods around me.
My heart raced as I broke into a mad run down the uneven gravel, adrenaline jetting through my veins. I spared a brief glance into the tree line to the right and saw something move. A bear? Chupacabra? Anything seemed possible. Fear zinged through my blood, constricting my throat as I hit the end of the driveway and came to a complete stop.
The road was narrow and covered in a thin layer of asphalt. The heavy hum of cicadas and crickets drowned out the pounding of my pulse. Mountain ash and elm were thicker here, their branches hanging over the road like thick, stubby fingers waiting to grab unsuspecting tourists.
I didn’t know which direction to take.
The back of my throat burned as I took a step forward but stopped. Who was I kidding? My breath came out in a harsh exhale. So close to tears, I blindly took a left and started walking as fast as I could.
I followed the road, passing cabins not as large as Hunter’s but still pretty damn big.
For a moment, I considered stopping at one of them. They all had the large floor-to-ceiling windows, but there were no lights on. Trepidation filled me and a small voice spoke up in the back of my head, warning that this was a bad, bad idea.
As I made my way around a bend in the road, a pavilion came into view. There was a raised portion, like a stage. Several small tables and chairs surrounded it. There were no people, though, and come to think of it, I hadn’t even seen a car anywhere on the property.
Did they use horses around here to travel?
The place was like a creepy ghost town. All it needed was a tumbleweed blowing across the paved square. I caught the scent of water and figured there was a lake somewhere nearby, but there were no sounds of engines, laughter, or anything.
Walking past the pavilion and all its empty chairs, I shivered in spite of the warmth and wrapped my arms around my waist. Could Hunter and I be the only ones here?
Really having no idea if that was the case, I turned around.
There was a lodge of sorts, a long, one-story, ranch-style building with a rustic, camplike feel to it. Beside it was a huge, beautiful gazebo.
I’d always had a thing for architecture, especially anything that was handcrafted. My appreciation came from the fact that I didn’t have an artistic bone in my body while my mom had a knack for it.
Drawn to it, I noticed that the detail put into the gazebo was magnificent. The scrolling artwork was a series of twisted knots engraved into the wood, and the design covered each inch of panel and railing and continued inside. Never once was there a break in the knots as they twisted around the spokes and climbed the interior ceiling like vines. The pattern reminded me of one large, entwined Celtic knot.
Running my fingers over the carved loops, I noticed that in the center of every loop was another design: a small circle with four knobs inside it and each knob connected by a thin line. To capture such minuscule detail was amazing, and the ability to craft something so intricate was truly awe-inspiring. The amount of time invested in this was astonishing. Moving to the center of the gazebo, I tried to find where the design started, but everything was so seamless. There was no beginning or end.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I caught sight of the door to the lodge open and a man stepped out. So there were people here.
The man was tall, probably around Hunter’s height. His hair was dark and cut close to the skull. His face was all sharp angles, skin the same alabaster as Hunter’s.
Same as Hunter’s.
Crap. The realization that he could be like Hunter, as in alien, forced me to take a step back, hoping that the ever-increasing night would shield me.
Dressed casually in worn jeans and a shirt, he caught the door with one hand, holding it open. Behind him, a tall, slender woman stepped out, grinning up at him.
Her cheeks were flushed prettily and her light brown hair was pulled up in a high ponytail. The man said something to her, which earned a playful shove from her.