Hunt Me! I Crave the Chase (Spooky Boys #3)

And I could admit now, under the light of the moon, with salt water drying on my skin, that maybe he never had been.

Everything spun. My brain hurt. My lungs wheezed. It was black and painful and—ow, ow, ow.

“Jeffrey—” Mutt’s voice was a distant echo, panicked and full of fear. “Jeffrey!”

“Fuck,” I managed, voice hoarse. I opened my eyes and immediately regretted it because it hurt. It hurt so fucking bad. And my head was throbbing—and fuck-ow-fuck.

“Shhh,” Mutt was warm, but I could barely feel where he was wrapped around me, the pain in my head was so all-encompassing. “Shhh, it is okay. I have called for help. It’s okay.”

It took me a second to remember what had happened.

And when I did, my panic only rose.

We’d been driving back from the beach.

We’d pulled onto the ramp that led back into Elmwood. It’d been dark out and we hadn’t crossed into city limits yet so there were no street lamps to light the way. Rain had begun to fall halfway back home and I’d been distracted driving—not because I’d been upset this time, but because Mutt had been growling at the radio and it’d been fucking hilarious.

I’d made the mistake of telling him I loved the singer of the song playing, and he’d immediately gone all macho man on me.

And I’d been laughing?—

And the rain had been falling?—

And there’d been a figure in front of the car. A blond, hairy figure. Four-legged and massive. And I hadn’t seen it and I’d?—

Fuck.

I’d crashed the truck.

Right into a fucking tree.

I could vaguely remember the panic. The way my headlights had swerved when I’d jerked the steering wheel. The jolt of the seatbelt as I slammed into it, and Mutt launched himself across the console to block me from the shattering glass as a branch plowed right through the windshield.

I could smell blood.

So much blood.

And I could hardly breathe—could hardly breathe because—oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

“Are you okay?” I gasped out, trying to see through the pain as Mutt hovered over me. He was still sandwiched between the console and my body, the worst of the glass having hit him. There were a few wayward pieces that had hit my cheeks, but otherwise I was fine.

I was fine.

I think.

Except.

My head was cold.

And wet—and.

“Shhhh,” Mutt soothed. “I’m okay, sweet one. I’m okay.” His palms were warm, I could feel their heat, even though he didn’t touch me. Like he was scared he’d hurt me. “Help is coming. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“W-what?” I reached for him, my panic apparent as I saw the blood that was staining his shirt. His damp shirt. His damp shirt that had been white and now was red.

“Shhh,” Mutt rumbled, a delicious purring sound filling the car. It calmed me. Made the twitch and burn of acid in my body soften. Made my hands stop shaking quite so much, and my spinning head still. “Alpha has you, sweet one. Everything is okay.”