Hunted: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Feral Souls Trilogy - Book 1)

by Erica Woods

  Too late!

  With a scream of pain, I did the one thing I swore never to do again. I let the monster out of its cage.

  Just a little farther, I told myself as I dragged my worn body over a fallen log, hissing at the pain shooting up my mangled leg with every step. The metallic scent of blood permeated the air. It made me nervous, even knowing it was my own.

  Stepping on that thing had been a big mistake. Leaves and dirt had hidden the sharp metal teeth from my sight, the trap concealed until it snapped closed around the lower part of my calf.

  The pain had been . . . agonizing. But I was used to pain, knew how to deal with it, how to keep existing despite being torn to pieces by inflamed nerve endings and agony so great it threatened my very sanity.

  I’d survived it more times than I could count.

  What I was not used to was making decisions, finding solutions to a crisis as it was happening. And being rooted in place by an evil-looking contraption while being hunted by men who’d make this pain seem like nothing . . . that was definitely a crisis.

  If not for my monster’s strength, I’d have been stuck there still.

  Moving was slow and painful. My injured leg protested each step, and I stumbled over various rocks and the uneven forest floor, constantly aware of the silence around me, how loud my labored breaths seemed in contrast.

  The Hunters had yet to find me. Maybe they thought I was still inside? Or maybe they’d taken the treacherous road, assuming I—

  Boom!

  A tree exploded right next to my head. I threw myself to the ground, a pained whimper dragging up my parched throat while sharp splinters of wood rained down. With my ears ringing and shivers of dread shooting up my back, I looked at the massive, gnarled tree above me.

  Ruined.

  The intricate trunk had been destroyed by cracks and huge chunks of missing wood, leaving a gaping wound in the center close to where my head had been.

  They were trying to kill me.

  Run!

  The roar of angry voices rose from somewhere behind me, and my breath froze in my lungs.

  Too close. They were too close.

  A cold, hideous terror whispered through my mind. It locked my limbs, captured my mind in a taloned grip, and drove the weapon of despair straight through my soul. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I could only lay there, bound by the weighted chains of fear.

  The forest shook with the thunder of running feet. They were almost here.

  Get up!

  Forcing my body to cooperate, I staggered to my feet and reached deep inside for my resting monster. The path felt paved with tar, resisting, slow, and when I tried calling the beast, begging for its strength, I felt its reluctance, its exhaustion. But it answered the call, and I didn’t know if I should be grateful or terrified.

  My vision sharpened; the darkness that had come with dusk seemed to disappear. My body, exhausted from hours of running and bursts of adrenaline, filled with dormant power. It tasted of darkness. Of untamed wildness. And again, I knew despair.

  How can you use the very thing that ruined your life?

  A moment of crushing guilt, then the monster’s influence kicked in. I felt it there, assessing my broken body, calculating the best path forward.

  With my enhanced hearing, it was easy to determine where the Hunters were coming from. I veered right and set off at a steady limp. The monster numbed the crippling pain in my calf, but it couldn’t heal it, couldn’t make it work right. I hoped the disregard it was showing my body wouldn’t cause permanent damage. The Hunters would never stop. They’d hunt me to the ends of the Earth for the rest of my life. And if I couldn’t run . . . well, the rest of my life probably wouldn’t be that long.

  2

  Ruarc

  I slammed my fist into the dashboard, ignoring Jason’s startled yelp and Ash’s heavy sigh. “Enough!” I snarled. It was an effort to calm my breathing. Angry growls vibrated in my throat, and damned if I didn’t give a shit. The Council had pissed me off for the last time.

  Ash shot me a look out the corner of his eye, hands still relaxed on the wheel, not a god damned care in the world. “They will come around,” was all he said in the same flat tone he used when talking about the weather.

  Damned unflappable male. Ash’s ability to make even the biggest problems appear manageable was an asset I didn’t appreciate. Not right then, anyway.

  “I just love how Ruarc’s accent gets thicker and thicker the angrier he gets,” Jason said, voice filled with such obnoxious glee it was a wonder—and a shame—he didn’t choke on it. “He will be tellin’ ye laddies tae pack up yer sheep and—”

  “Shut yer mouth,” I roared, forcing my body to turn to face the cackling idiot in the back seat.

  Swear the car has shrunk.

  Half an hour ago, I’d somehow managed to fold my considerable mass into the front seat—after having dragged a pissed off Jason out of my seat and thrown him into the back—and now my long legs were cramping from the lack of space while my neck threatened to snap. I’d had to keep it bent the whole ride. Was half tempted to rip off the roof to get some space. It’d also have the added benefit of pissing off Ash, whose tin box we were currently in.

  “Please lower your voices,” Lucien said in that cool, disdainful tone that never failed to make me want to deck him.

  “He speaks!” Jason winked, ignoring the snap of my teeth, and elbowed Lucien in the side. “I thought you lost the ability to chat aboot the same time they put that stick up your ass.”

  Typical Jason, insulting the cold, deadly male at his side while simultaneously making me see red. “Pup,” I warned, speaking through gritted teeth and casting Ash a furious glare when his lip twitched—never mind that he quickly schooled his face back into its neutral mask. When I continued, I made sure to suppress my Scottish brogue, hating it almost as much as I hated the reason for its existence, “Want to keep use of those legs?”

  Jason ignored me, not so much as a flicker of fear crossing that smug face, but he stopped antagonizing me.

  Would never kill him, but he knew I didn’t have the same qualms about some light maiming.

  Lucien sighed. “If the two of you could stop behaving like children then perhaps we could discuss the issue at hand?”

  Jason snorted. “The issue at hand? Which issue, pray tell? The madness we’ll face at the upcoming Assembly? The Strays lurking at the borders of our territory? Or do you mean that this one”—the insolent pup used his thumb to point my way, tempting me to snap it off at the joint—“can’t keep his temper in check long enough for Lucien to do what he does best and sniff out the information we’ll need to—”

  The car screeched as Ash hit the brakes.

  A flash of pale skin, the glistening darkness that could only mean blood, and huge, startled eyes was all I saw before my head smashed into the side window.

  “What the fuck?” I snapped.

  Ash said nothing, attention drawn to something outside. I followed his gaze and saw a pair of the biggest, most soulful brown eyes I’d ever seen. Huge, guileless, and rounded with such terrible despair my stomach dropped. I tore my gaze away to take in the rest of the girl standing frozen in the middle of the road.

  I did not like what I saw.

  She was pale. Skin almost translucent, like she’d never seen the sun before, and thin. Sickly thin. The threadbare gray clothes she wore hung off her tiny frame, so worn in places they were almost see-through. And what they revealed . . .

  Bruises. Cuts. Scabs.

  My jaw clenched, a growl built in my throat.

  “Bloody hell.”

  3

  HOPE

  I broke through the tree line and stumbled onto hard asphalt. Air sawed in and out of my lungs in ragged gasps, each inhale like swallowing living flames.

  How long had I been running?

  The sun had disappeared over the horizon at least an hour ago, but the Hunters had not given up. Despite my monster’s sp
eed, two more shots had been fired too close for comfort.

  I bent at the waist—too tired to stand upright—and glanced around.

  The road looked like any other, but with no lights to brighten the area and the moon a weak half-circle, the darkness took on a sinister appearance.

  I wasn’t safe out here. Everything was too open, too exposed. If not for the Hunters, I would have turned back and sought refuge in the woods.

  A prickle of dread traveled up my spine. How close were they? Were they watching, even now? I stumbled forward.

  Picking a random direction—anywhere but back—I forced my body into another jog, dragging one leg behind me like the useless, limp limb it had become when the monster had grown weary and receded.

  A car had to pass by soon. Though what I’d do when that happened was anyone’s guess. The best I could hope for was a place to spend the night, far away from this place and the Hunters on my trail.

  They can’t be far.

  I hesitated, small rocks biting into the raw soles of my feet.

  I needed a place to sleep. Just for a little while. And when I woke up, maybe I could try to make my way north. But even if I somehow got all the way to Canada without money, identification, and the Hunters killing me, how would I find my uncle?

  Suddenly parched, I licked my dry lips. What if Gavril had left Canada? What if he didn’t want to help me? What if he saw what I was and turned me away, just like my mother—

  A soft, pained cry crawled up my throat. My vision grew cloudy.

  I was free. Free. Then why did I feel as though I was trapped in a coffin about to be buried?

  They’re gonna find you, a voice taunted. You have no one. Nothing. You’re hurt. How long can you run? How long—

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Stumbled. My calf ached. My lips tingled. My hands shook.

  Choking on a sob, I pushed everything away and carried on as quickly as my lame leg allowed.

  Can’t stop.

  Small sips of air pushed past my tight throat.

  They’ll find me!

  My leg dragged along the rough asphalt and pain shot up the useless limb until black dots edged my vision.

  Won’t go back. I won’t.

  I’d rather die.

  A deafening roar echoed in my ears.

  I turned. Froze. Watched as two blinding lights barreled down the road straight at me. Moving was beyond me. Breathing proved impossible. Instead, I stood rooted to the spot as the car careened toward me.

  Tires screamed across the pavement and filled the air with an acrid, burning scent. Metal groaned. Lights flashed. And still, I stood there, heartbeat thundering in my ears as the car came to a screeching halt only a few feet away.

  Something moved inside the car, and the breath rushed back into my lungs.

  RUN! my head screamed, but my feet weren’t moving. They stayed locked in place while my knees shook and my teeth chattered so violently, I half expected them to jump out and flee in my place.

  Thunder clapped in my ears and I jerked my gaze up to the sky, expecting a massive bolt of lightning to flash across the dark expanse at any moment. It took me a few seconds to realize the night air was still and clear, and that the awful noise was my heart trying to beat out of my chest.

  Was this a normal reaction? Shouldn’t I be happy? There was a car. A car that had stopped. With people in it. And people meant safety.

  Right?

  Not all people were evil. My father hadn’t been. Even when I couldn’t remember what he looked like, I still remembered the soothing baritone of his voice, the warm touch of a kind hand stroking my hair, the scent of cooling hot-chocolate—the drink he always made for me when I needed cheering up. Whoever was in the car could be good, kind people.

  Or they could be evil. They could be Hunters.

  I shivered and hunched my shoulders, wanting to disappear, to become invisible.

  The driver’s door creaked open. When no one immediately exited, fear overwhelmed my need to escape. Were they hurt? Had I . . . Was I responsible for . . . ?

  I couldn’t even think it.

  Dear god, please not again! My fear was so great, the tenuous control I kept over my monster slipped, causing a spiral of terror to take root. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing. In and out. Deep breath in. Long exhale.

  “Are you all right?” A smooth voice broke my concentration.

  I spun around, all my attention going to the man who’d spoken, and . . .

  Those eyes.

  Brilliant blue eyes framed by thick black lashes stared back at me with piercing intensity. Sharp intelligence tempered by endless patience; his eyes were oceans of unfathomable depth. It felt like he saw right through me, laid me bare to the soul. Those almost too-acute eyes radiated a controlled power that fascinated, drew me in against my will. They flayed me, peeled away layer after layer of skin, not stopping until my very essence was revealed, and yet there was something there that called to me, something dark and deadly. Something I wanted to recognize but couldn’t.

  He . . . he didn’t look like a Hunter.

  I forced myself to break his gaze before he could see too much, before he saw that part of me I never wanted anyone to notice, and quickly scanned the rest of his face.

  His skin looked tanned, but with a copper hue no sun could produce, and though he wasn’t truly handsome, his face held an odd sort of appeal that captured my attention and made me want to look closer.

  Holding my breath, I tilted my head and tried to understand. His lips were a little too wide for his face. His jaw, though chiseled, a little too sharp. Skipping over those intense, blue eyes—afraid of what his shrewd gaze would uncover—I took in the harsh slashes of his black eyebrows, and the high, cutting cheekbones that gave him an almost severe look. In contrast, his nose was a little on the flat side, narrow at the top but with a broader bridge.

  Taken individually, his features were all a little off, but together they blended seamlessly and gave him an air of quiet confidence.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, not moving closer.

  No Hunter would be this patient.

  My mouth was too dry to reply. Instead, I searched the rest of him, looking for answers, trying to find out if this were a man I could trust. Tall and lean, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist, he wore a pair of faded jeans that hugged his long legs perfectly, and a worn shirt that had seen better days.

  An outfit made for work.

  Tied back from his face with a brown, leather throng, his jet-black hair looked silky and longer than I’d ever seen on a man. From the top of his ponytail peeked a lonesome, defiant feather that bobbed in the wind.

  For a brief moment, I forgot the fear that had ruled my every waking moment since I was six years old, another emotion taking its place.

  Curiosity.

  But then, with a lowered brow and a look of mild concern, he stepped forward.

  My whole body locked down with renewed terror.

  “D-don’t come any closer.” Each word scraped against my throat.

  The man stopped right away, standing so still he almost disappeared into the night. His piercing gaze never wavered, never left my face, and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he put his hands out—palms up—and hunched his shoulders.

  “Do not be afraid,” he said quietly. “We will not hurt you.” His voice was smooth and reassuring, calm and controlled, like listening to the gentle ripples of a still ocean lapping at cliffs above.

  I caught myself leaning toward him, wanting his soothing, almost monotone voice to take away my fear and do the impossible; make me feel safe. Contained power rolled off him in waves I could almost feel brush against my skin. Searching. Prodding. Assessing. And with it, a strange tranquility. It seeped from him, brushing against me until even my inner monster seemed calmer.

  Movement to my left.

  My head snapped around, breaking the eye-contact I wasn’t aware I’d established, and whatever calm he’d wrapped a
round me broke against a tidal wave of panic.

  A behemoth had moved out of the car and was edging his way closer. A strange feeling filled me. Something akin to betrayal.

  He’d been distracting me so his friend could . . . so he could . . .

  I didn’t know, but I didn’t intend to find out. They may not have looked like Hunters, but that didn’t mean they weren’t.

  I bolted. Or, tried to bolt. But I’d forgotten about my bad leg, and instead of sprinting away, I stumbled and fell to the hard asphalt.

  A scream lodged in my throat as a menacing figure loomed above me. He was by far the scariest looking man I’d ever seen. The sheer size of him overloaded my senses; his fierce scowl made my stomach dip and roll. I’d never seen a bigger, more vicious-looking example of masculine power in my life. He seemed like an escaped animal, all wild, furious strength.

  He’s like an untamed beast, I thought, unable to stop a shiver from working its way up my back.

  The beast narrowed his luminous silver eyes at me, and . . .

  Wow.

  If I had been any less terrified, I may have taken a moment to admire those liquid, silver orbs. But the predatory way he eyed me made my heart shrivel in my chest and the monster inside perk up and take notice.

  Dear god, not now! There was no way I could focus on controlling the dark force inside me while still getting away unscathed.

  The beast leaned closer, his face only a hairsbreadth away from mine.

  A strange, intriguing scent teased my senses. This close my eyes automatically zoomed in on the jagged, white line starting at the left of his nose, running past his lips, and ending just under his strong jawline.

  A warrior’s scar.

  A startled, embarrassingly feminine noise burst out of me when his nose touched my skin, stroking from my temple up to my hair and making goosebumps erupt all over my skin.

  Before I could stammer out a question, he reared back, silver eyes widening, and the dark, masculine slashes of his brows raised almost to his hairline. He looked almost . . . bewildered.