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

“I’m fine,” I promised—and for the first time since I could remember I wasn’t lying.

Even though this was going to suck, majorly.

And then I did something I didn’t know I could—I opened my mouth, and opened up, completely unprompted. “Lydia hated when my hair was long,” I said, heart thumping. I hadn’t told him who Lydia was—and I wasn’t sure I could right now. Or ever. I didn’t have words for her. “She made me cut it…all the time. She’d bring out a ruler and if it was past what she deemed was an acceptable length, off it would go.”

Everything felt far away all of a sudden. My limbs were cold and my hands tingled weakly. “The second she got locked up last spring, I started growing it out. It felt like…I dunno. Felt like I was trying to recognize myself again, you know?”

Mutt made a soft sound in affirmation. He struggled figuring out how to plug the buzzers into the wall, but eventually managed with a triumphant huff of breath. He turned back to me, clippers held aloft, waiting patiently.

“Just do it,” I said, ducking my head a little. I stared at my bare knees. There were less scars on my legs, only smatterings of copper leg hair. I was glad. Because summers got fucking hot, no matter where we went, and I could get away with long sleeves—because I was fair skinned and could claim I was hiding from the sun—but pants would’ve been too suspicious.

Mutt had seen it all though.

He’d seen it all and he still called me beautiful.

“Hair grows,” he said softly, giving me another minute to change my mind as the whirr of the blade echoed through the room.

“It does,” I agreed, because he was right.

Hair grows.

And time heals all wounds.

And maybe I had to shave it now—but that didn’t mean I couldn’t just grow it out again. It hurt, yes, because most things I’d done because of Lydia did. But somehow…it didn’t hurt as much as I’d expected.

Mutt laid a hand on my shoulder, keeping me steady as he took the clippers to the back of my hair first.

He was awful.

So fucking awful. He kept bonking me, and apologizing, and then bonking me again. But it was…kinda the best haircut I’d ever had? Regardless. Normally when people touched me like this, my skin would crawl, and I’d hold impossibly still, careful not to flinch. There was nothing professional about any of this, but the brush of Mutt’s warm fingers was soothing, rather than abrasive.

And I melted into the gentle buzz as my eyes drifted shut and he worked his way through my hair, clumps of auburn falling to the floor.

By the time he was done, I’d been lulled into a sense of calm that I’d rarely felt. I tipped my head up, head lighter now, the fuzziness prickling at my neck. “Can I use your shower?” I asked, because thanking him felt…like too much.

I needed to get my skin the right size again first.

“You can’t get the stitches wet,” he said, parroting back Theo’s warning immediately.

“I won’t,” I promised. “I’ll call you when it’s time to do my head.”

Mutt looked worried, but he nodded anyway. The muscle at the corner of his jaw jumped as he helped me to my feet—not because I needed help walking, but because he wanted to touch me. I found it kinda ridiculous that there were five werewolves living in this tiny ass house sharing a single bathroom, but…whatever.

Maybe they pissed in the trees? That would make a weird amount of sense.

Also, Mutt was pretty much a permanent fixture at my apartment, so there was that to consider too.

Mutt made sure the water wasn’t too hot, fretting to himself about making everything perfect. I heard him muttering under his breath about the temperature–terrified he’d injure my fragile human body more.

And I just…stared at his back, and tried not to fall in love.

And failed.

Miserably.

The hot water was soothing as it pelted my back and the sore muscles there. It washed away the last of the blood, and the sharp bristles from my haircut. And by the time I’d finished scrubbing myself liberally, I felt about a thousand percent better, even sans hair.

The bathroom door opened with a click, letting in a breeze and I snorted out a laugh, not at all surprised when the shower door opened next, and leagues of warm, sweaty muscle pushed against my back.