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

He’d make me feel special. Me. Not the golden boy. Not the kidnapped kid who had no choice but to be perfect. Just me. Terrified, bitter, ugly me. Made beautiful, when he looked my way.

I’d sleep.

I’d sleep and there would be no more nightmares.

There’d be no need for bolts on the door.

No need for wolves and mates and Lydia.

I’d be his forever.

I’d be safe.

When I woke up my mouth was dry as hell and my head hurt. Water. I needed water. I stumbled groggily to my feet, grimaced at the state of my hand, and promptly went into the bathroom to shower.

Then I chugged what felt like a gallon of water before stumbling back to bed in a daze.

I’d missed Blair when he was gone. Missed him desperately, especially for those few months I’d thought I’d never see him again. But this was a different kind of ache. It burned me from the inside out. Made my eyes burn, and my teeth itch.

A week passed and it felt like hell.

My brothers did their best to distract me, but even they gave up after a while, because I was a miserable, awful grouch. Scrooge on crack, really. Werewolf-loving scrooge McAsshole. Blair did give me another baggie of bud though—because he was the best—so at least I had that.

On the seventh Mutt-less day, Avery—because he was Avery—sent me home with a pat on the back and a box of tea. “You’re driving me insane,” he said gently, looking cheerful as always with a lizard sitting on his shoulder. “Go home. You’re done for the day.”

Banished, I did as I was told.

Though I wasn’t happy about it.

I was exhausted and overworked—and there was no end in sight. Because no matter how hard and long I looked, I never found the answers I wanted. Mutt still needed a wolf for a mate. And I couldn’t find any information that pointed otherwise.

I couldn’t be what he needed me to be.

Even though I would in a heartbeat if I could.

I missed him.

I missed him so fucking much.

So I stomped all the way home in a huff, ignoring the buzzing in my pocket and the barrage of texts I had yet to answer. Probably Blair asking how I was doing again—or Collin telling me about the episode of Drag Race he was watching, or Richard telling me it’d take another fucking week to fix my truck—I was starting to wonder if Joe had even fucking worked on the damn thing. Or the random plethora of people from Oregon I still needed to fucking block.

If I could burn the fucking device, I would. But then I wouldn’t see pictures of Blair’s cat anymore, or those weird jokes he kept sending me. And what if Mutt texted me—what if he woke up and he couldn’t move and he needed me? What if he found another squirrel and I fucking missed it because I was too busy angsting?

No.

No.

I kinda needed my phone.

Was it unrealistic to contemplate blocking everyone I had in my phone besides Mutt and my family? Maybe. But it made my cold, black heart warm just thinking about it. I’d delete everyone on Facebook. Block all the assholes. Erase the people from my life systematically that had always made me feel like I had to put up a front.

I ate dinner in silence.

Again.

And even playing the guitar didn’t help my foul mood. I’d been plunking around writing a new song lately—with my new pencil—and I was nearly done with it. I could admit that I was more than a little excited to show Mutt, as he was kinda my biggest fan. But even the daydream of his reaction wasn’t enough to cheer me up. So… After showering and crawling into bed I lit up another joint and let my thoughts wander. It was easier to control the darkness that lurked beneath my skin like this.

Pleasure was an excellent distraction.