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

“Let me in.”

For a guy who’s here on “business” he sure doesn’t have much to do.

Exhibit A: Every day this week, Mutt-the-dog had been waiting outside Avery’s shop for me to finish work. He’d nap or chase butterflies, his thick chocolate brown coat flickering in the weak autumn sunlight. He was always there, standing sentinel in my peripheral vision. No matter what Avery and I were doing, I could always see him. And that comforted me in a way nothing else ever had.

What I didn’t understand was why he’d go to such lengths to stick around me.

Sure, we’d met in Colorado.

Sure, we had this kinda…freaky sort of connection. And he was hot like fire and made my blood sing.

But there had to be some other motivation, right?

He couldn’t simply be here because he wanted to keep me safe.

Except that he probably is.

Dude doesn’t have a nefarious bone in his entire Gigantor body.

All my life I’d been the solid one. The dependable one. The one that laughed in the face of danger—not because I wasn’t frightened, but because you either laughed or cried, and I was sick and tired of being weak. Was it still bravery if you felt you had no choice?

I don’t know.

Either way, I’d always known my place.

But now…now I was skittish and lost. I wanted to hide behind Mutt’s bulk and never come out again. Either Mutt, if I was being honest. Hairy or…slightly less hairy. I wasn’t picky. And having a second set of eyes watching my back at any given time helped soothe the part of me that was still a lost little boy, just waiting for the monsters to hurt him.

Alright.

That was a fucking lie.

I had a preference.

Of course I fucking did.

Mutt the dog offered comfort, yes, but he didn’t laugh at my jokes. He didn’t tell me I sang like an angel, making me rethink that word entirely and what it had used to mean to me. He didn’t stare at me like I’d hung the fucking moon—okay yeah, maybe he did—but still.

There was something about warm arms and Mutt’s sunny grin that settled me in a way nothing else ever had. If I decided to hide in his arms for the rest of all time, I got the feeling he wouldn’t mind. Not that I could, mind you, because he’d already told me he was only here until January.

He just liked being around to protect me. I could see it on his face. See the way he puffed up with pride, like simply providing a buffer between me and the world gave him purpose.

But accepting that was…hard.

I had a nasty tendency to look for the worst in people. And I knew that. But still, it was difficult to turn that off. To ask for help. To believe what I already knew instinctively to be true, when my mind was full of traps.

Even now, when Mutt was sitting outside the bathroom door waiting for me, I struggled crossing that metaphorical distance. Admittedly, I wanted him to push inside the room and wrap himself around me. I wanted to be crushed against his chest. Held close and tight, until all I could smell was him. Until all I could hear was his heartbeat.

I needed him, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask for help.

Maybe it was Lydia’s training.

Or maybe it was the fact that no one had ever helped me when I needed it before.

Asking for help felt like trying to speak a foreign language.

“Fine, I’m coming—” The door pushed open and I jolted the second hot arms curled around my body, just like I’d hoped they would. Mind fuckery. Mutt’s nose pushed into the soft hair at the nape of my neck. Exactly the way I needed, like he was a fucking mind reader. He squeezed and squeezed, tight enough I could hardly breathe.

Still standing at the sink, frozen, I let his bulk protect me from the door and the world it led to. I couldn’t stop shaking, but like usual, no tears accompanied my panic. They never did. Not anymore.