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

“Where’s Mutt? Is he okay?” a distant voice echoed when I strained. It was hard when I was like this, my senses murky but sharp. The world flooded my mind with sensation so rapidly it was hard to process all at once. But I recognized the voice anyway. Because it was the only thing that felt right in all the world. Not the moon, not my fur, not the blood that seeped into the concrete floor. Old stains mixing with the new.

“He’s gone. Home,” that was the prey. “Now go. Please.” That was the prey and it was wrong, wrong, wrong.

I just wanted—I just wanted the voice back. The sweet-summer-sun. The music. I huffed a few greedy breaths, trying to taste my mate even though I could hear him leaving. Hear the crackle of feet on gravel, hear the rumble of an engine driving away.

And there was only prey again.

Prey, prey, prey.

And what sanity I’d managed slipped away as quickly as it had come.

I needed free.

Needed out of these chains.

I was hungry, hungry, hungry. The prey was so close. So close. I could taste them already. Imagine the chase, the thunder of our feet, the fearscent that would only make their deaths more delicious.

They should be frightened.

Because I was Alpha.

It was all I was.

And they were nothing but food.

I’d fill my belly. I’d glut on them. Enjoy every last, slippery morsel. And then I’d hunt again. Again, again, again.

There was no pack. There was no moon. There was only the gnawing, aching gape of my empty stomach. There was only the jut of my cock. Only the phantom scent of mate-mate-mate, but it was wrong. It was wrong, because it wasn’t wolf.

It wasn’t wolf.

And I was…

I was hungry, hungry, hungry.

I needed—needed-needed.

And then I was…nothing.

Nothing at all.

And it was black all over again.

I gave Mutt three days. Three days of texting him with no answer, calling him with my calls going straight to voicemail, and casually hunting for him after work in all the spots I’d seen him in the past—before I decided it was time to actually look in earnest. Richard and Blair had offered to help when they’d been at my place, but I’d declined at first, because even I knew I was being paranoid.

He’ll be at open-mic night.

That’s what I told myself. It was at the end of the week, and Mutt had never missed one before. I had no doubt that he’d be back—from wherever he’d gone. Because at this point, there was no way his absence was because of the moon.

Right?

I mean, Richard had mentioned that Mutt might be a “special” case, but after scouring the internet and all the books Avery had ordered in for me, I couldn’t find any mention of a moon lasting more than a day. A week was just…just…bizarre.

Which meant something was wrong.

When I’d gone to Mutt’s house looking for him, I’d been quite literally kicked the fuck out. Theo’s expression had been contrite, but he’d had a wild glint in his eyes that I didn’t like.

“You have to go,” he’d spat out, unusually manic. “Right now.”