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

by Erica Woods

  The cutting insult reverberated in my skull. I felt naked. Exposed. Like I was back on the slab in the basement of the Hunter compound, waiting for another nightmare to begin.

  I wrapped my arms around my middle, hunched my shoulders, then cursed myself for caring what he thought, what anybody thought. I wasn’t a great beauty, but I wasn’t butt-ugly either. Granted, I stank a little, and yes, blood and dirt stuck to my hair—and various pieces of my clothing—but that didn’t warrant such a cruel assessment, did it?

  “Lucien.” Ash’s smooth voice was rough around the edges. With long strides, he moved away from the car and motioned Lucien over. “A word.”

  Without a backward glance, Lucien glided over to where Ash stood with his hands crossed over his chest. I couldn’t make out what was said, but from the bored look on Lucien’s face I didn’t think he cared.

  “Don’t be sad, love,” Jason said. Like Lucien, he had a slight, British accent, much more toned down and relaxed than the man who had just insulted me so thoroughly. “Lucien has had a stick up his ass since the day he was born. It’s not likely to disappear any time soon. Not until some poor chap has had enough and pulls it out to beat the man with it.”

  A tremulous smile fought its way onto my face. My stinging eyes were glued to the ground, but it didn’t seem to bother Jason. I wanted to look at him, wanted to see if his smile was as warm as the humor in his voice, but I wasn’t ready yet. My feelings confused me. Dealing with these . . . these men confused me. I hadn’t exactly been socializing during the last decade; all my knowledge of the real world came from the few movies and books I’d been allowed during my first few years at the compound.

  I willed my eyes to stay clear, blinking a few times to make sure there was no excess water to give away my hurt feelings. It was stupid, really. I had no reason to care what these men thought. And I had never cared about my looks, or lack thereof, before. So why did Lucien get to me?

  Maybe it wasn’t what he’d said, but how he’d said it. And that the others had heard him. I felt devalued and small. And worried. What if they left me here to fend for myself? A few minutes ago I hadn’t even been planning on going with them, and now I was worried about being left behind. If I caused conflict between them, they would surely decide I wasn’t worth the effort.

  When Ash’s smooth voice rose to a heated whisper, my insides shriveled up and I felt sick. This is my fault. They are arguing because of me.

  “It’s fine,” I said in a small voice. When no one replied, I cleared my throat nervously and repeated myself, a little louder this time. “It’s fine. Really.” When three sets of male eyes stared at me with various degrees of skepticism, my words died in my throat. I wanted to tell them it was okay, they could leave and I’d be fine. But I just couldn’t bring myself to say it.

  I needed help. Just for tonight. When my wounds were cleaned and my belly was full, I would head out on my own. After a little nap, maybe. If they let me.

  God, I’m pathetic.

  No one said anything. My skin itched uncomfortably, a sure sign they were all staring at me. I didn’t know what to do or what to say, so I remained quiet. A gentle hand on my elbow startled me and made me look up. Warm, chocolate-colored eyes smiled down at me, sparkling with mischief and charm.

  With a start, I realized I hadn’t really gotten a good look at Jason. Next to Lucien, he’d kind of disappeared. It wasn’t easy to measure up to the cold, untouchable beauty that was Lucien, but the more I saw of Jason, the more vibrant he became.

  I shook my head and tried to look at him objectively. He was the shortest of the guys. The top of my head reached as far as his chin. He was exceptionally well built, more compact than lean, with well-defined pectorals and a ridged abdomen that could easily be seen due to his tight-fitting, canary yellow shirt.

  That’s . . . bright, I thought and felt my mouth twitch.

  His arms were corded, veins almost angry looking, especially the ones in his neck. In a word he looked strong.

  I let my eyes wander back up to his face, absentmindedly noting how his playful smile widened and showed off straight, white teeth. His dark eyebrows wiggled suggestively at me before he shook his head, his brown hair moving in tandem. It was cut a little shorter on the sides, the medium length on top looking both stylish and playful.

  My face heated.

  “Do you want to know a secret, love?” He leaned in close and all I could smell was his delicious aftershave—something dark, yet sweet with a hint of rain after a thunderstorm. Electric. Voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, he continued, “To not be afraid, all you have to do is pretend. After a while, you’ll forget you’re pretending, and just like that”—he snapped his fingers, a strange smile spreading across his face—“you are a new person.” The look in his warm, brown eyes was suddenly serious. “But even if you forget, always remember the cause of your fear so that one day, when you are stronger and your fear is gone, you can come back and destroy what caused it to begin with.”

  My breath left me in an audible whoosh. Could I do that? Could I get over my fear of the Hunters and maybe, just maybe, one day destroy them?

  I peeked up at Jason. What was he afraid of? Had he managed to wipe his fear, and the cause of it, out of existence?

  “Don’t worry, love.” With a wink and a playful grin that so quickly erased the brief glimpse into his serious side, he held the passenger door open for me. “You’re in good hands now.”

  5

  RUARC

  The drive home had been tense as fuck. The little female had shrunk with each mile, shoulders curling and spine bending until it had looked like she was about to disappear.

  And with each wince, each tiny whimper, the anger in my belly had grown hotter.

  I’d never been happier to get out of the car than when Ash finally parked.

  “Here you go, lovely lady,” Jason said with a flourish, bending at the waist in a strange looking bow and waving the little female, Hope, inside our house.

  I fumed, annoyed at the ease with which he interacted with her and that damned, charming smile of his. Maybe I should punch him?

  Would she still grace him with her shy smile if his nose was crooked and he was missing a few teeth?

  “Move,” I grumbled and shoved him out of the way. I wanted to check the house before the little female walked into a potentially dangerous situation. There’d been no Strays in our territory in weeks, not after what I’d done the last time, but couldn’t hurt to be careful.

  I drew in a breath through my nose, sorting through all the smells. The woodsy scent of polished oak hung in the air—Lucien had been making shit again—and the familiar smell of my brothers. No intruders.

  I grunted, satisfied it was safe, and jerked my chin in the direction of the kitchen where we kept the first aid supplies.

  Someone had to make sure Hope was looked after, and ever since she’d squared her shoulders and met my gaze head on, her wounded eyes pleading for someone to show her some kindness, I’d wanted that someone to be me.

  I put the first aid box on the kitchen table and waited.

  “This way,” Jason said. His voice was light and cheerful—it always sounded like he was in on a joke no one else understood. Didn’t think I’d ever seen the bastard without a perpetual smirk on his smug face.

  Except for the times my fist was buried in his eye socket, I thought to myself and bared my teeth in satisfaction.

  A slow, hesitant shuffling made my ears twitch. She sounded like prey. Not good. Someone had to teach the little female to hide her fear, otherwise she’d end up as someone’s dinner.

  Growling at the offensive thought, I almost didn’t notice her faltering in the doorway. With effort, I tried to force my mouth to stretch into a smile. To put her at ease.

  She flinched and took a step back, looking nervous as hell.

  I dropped the smile.

  Fucking Jason, I thought grimly. He gets the sweet, shy smiles while I get the fli
nching and the terror.

  It was not the first time a female had been horrified after looking at me, but it bothered me that my burly frame and scarred face seemed to scare this one.

  Made me want to growl at her.

  Squashing the urge, I gestured to one of the empty chairs around the big kitchen table. It was situated next to a window and overlooked a part of our big backyard. From this angle, nothing was visible beyond the tall hedge that separated the yard from the rest of our land. “Sit.”

  “I . . . I-I’m okay,” she stuttered, color creeping up her neck.

  “Sit,” I repeated, tilting my head and studying her. With a stiff, stilted walk, she crept toward the chair, all the while looking at me like I was going to pounce.

  Prey, my instincts stated. I doubted it was her natural state. Someone had terrified her, probably abused her. Based on her actions, the frightened way she had interacted with us, the evasiveness and general unease she displayed in our vicinity, the bruises, wounds and various cuts, the most obvious explanation was that she was running from someone. Someone who’d hurt her.

  A low, furious growl slipped from my throat. Hope’s hand shot up to her neck, hiding her most vulnerable spot.

  “Ruarc, stop terrifying the girl,” Jason scolded, eyes alight with pleasure.

  I didn’t know what he found more amusing, my lack of social graces or how uncomfortable I was around this small, slip of a girl.

  “Sit down, love. Ash will take a look at your injuries in a few minutes,” Jason told her.

  The little female stared at the chairs around the table. Brown eyes wide, her hands picked at her ruined clothing as her gaze skipped from chair to chair.

  “W-where should I sit?” she asked in a small voice.

  Jason’s eyebrow climbed up, and he shot me a look filled with concern. The wily bastard may be a pain in my ass, but he had a good heart. No worthy, honorable male could look at an abused female and not feel helpless rage and a good dose of concern.

  “There,” I said, pointing to a chair at random. Instinct told me directing her was better than making her agonize over an insignificant choice.

  My chest warmed when she graced me with a small, trembling smile.

  Fuck me . . .

  That smile, even unsure and hesitant, was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. Dazed, I fell down into the closest chair, ignoring the warning creak from the wood.

  Another of Lucien’s damned creations. The annoying bastard could at least make furniture that didn’t threaten to break when I sat down. He knew I was heavy, dammit! Though my size had served me well in my turbulent youth, sometimes it could be a real pain. Females took one look at my big frame and scarred face, and immediately judged me to be a brutal bastard. It didn’t help that I wasn’t all charm and easy smiles like Jason.

  “So . . .” Jason said when it became apparent the female wouldn’t talk. Her eyes were glued to her clenched hands on the table, which annoyed the shit out of me.

  Want those eyes on me.

  Bloody hell . . . Didn’t just want those eyes on me, wanted to learn all her secrets, the reason for that stark pain in her eyes. Wanted to help her through the nightmare that haunted her, to destroy her enemies.

  Bloody hell was right.

  “Want to tell us what happened to you, love?”

  Even if I hadn’t been watching her so closely, there would have been no way to miss the terror clouding her expressive eyes or the way her breathing picked up at Jason’s question.

  “I . . . I fell.”

  My hands clenched and disappointment soured my mouth. Why would she protect the bastard who did this to her? She couldn’t be so stupid as to love him or anything ridiculous like that?

  Blood curdling at the thought, I scowled at her.

  Foolish female.

  Her face fell, making me feel like a brute, so I growled under my breath and felt my scowl grow more pronounced.

  “Ignore the grumpy bastard, little Hope. He continuously gets out of bed on the wrong side.”

  I kicked Jason under the table, ignoring his choked laugh, and turned to the little female. “No lies.” I detested lies. Either tell the truth or keep quiet. There was no honor in lies.

  No honor in making females cry, either . . .

  Disgusted with myself, I watched with growing horror as Hope’s beautiful, soft eyes filled with moisture. She blinked furiously a few times, and I thanked my lucky stars that no tears fell.

  “I just . . . I can’t go back!”

  Anguished, brown eyes stared up at me and my heart constricted painfully.

  “Never,” I swore, meaning it with every fiber of my being. Whoever was after her would have to go through me, and what a pleasant thought that was. Grim satisfaction swelled in my chest as I imagined ripping her abuser apart.

  When Jason failed to chime in and offer his reassurances like a good male should in this type of situation, I leaned back in my chair, crossed my arms over my chest, and glared. He tilted his head, questioning. I jutted my chin out at Hope, hoping the asshat would get the message.

  “Oh, right,” he finally said, looking like a light bulb should be flashing over his head. “Ruarc is right, love. You don’t ever have to go back. There are ways to deal with abusive situations. Shelters, for one. You could also go to the police. With your physical evidence it should be a slam dunk case, and we would be happy to help you until the bastard who did this to you is behind bars.”

  I grunted in agreement, but Hope didn’t react like she was supposed to. Instead of being properly calmed by our promise of protection, panic flashed in her expressive, soulful eyes. Her small, pale hands were clenched around the table, almost like she was afraid she would drift away if she didn’t have anything solid to hold on to. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, rapid movements, the sound of her panicked heart deafening to my sensitive ears.

  “No, please,” she gasped. “I can’t—it’s not safe! I-I just have to disappear!”

  I was on my feet before I knew what happened. An angry snarl broke free from the deepest recesses of my chest, and this time I ignored Hope’s fear at my aggression. It wasn’t aimed at her so she had no reason to be afraid.

  “What’s his name?” I hissed.

  What little color Hope had left vanished. Her whole body trembled as her mouth worked without a sound.

  “Ruarc . . .” Jason started, but I growled at him, a low, angry sound that he knew to respect.

  “A name.”

  “I-I . . . oh, god!” Hope cried, burying her head in her hands while her shoulders heaved with silent tears. Her fear in the face of her nameless tormentor drove me to the brink of mindless rage.

  “Look at her!” I demanded, unsure if I was talking to Jason or Ash, who’d just entered the room and was staring at Hope with an unreadable expression. “The male who did this needs killing!”

  “I’m s-sorry!”

  Hope’s muffled cry infuriated me further. The bastard had taught her to apologize even when she had done nothing wrong. Something broke with a loud crack and my foot stung. Hope jumped at the sound, but didn’t look up. If anything, she hunched her shoulders even more.

  Fuck! The damned chair can’t even handle a good kick.

  I fumed.

  And why the fuck was Hope jumping at every loud noise? Didn’t she understand we were honorable males? Did she actually think we would hurt her, a defenseless, wounded female?

  I snarled louder, furiously indignant.

  Ash shot me a dark look and moved over to where the little female was sitting, head still in her hands, her tiny body shaking. He put a hand on her back and rubbed in small circles.

  “Shhh,” he crooned. “Take a deep breath for me.” When Hope didn’t respond, he leaned down and spoke softly right into her ear. “You are safe. No one here wants to hurt you. You are safe.” He repeated himself over and over until her small frame stopped shaking and only the occasional shiver ran through her.

&nbs
p; “Look at me,” he said, using the same voice he used when he needed to bring one of us down from a killing rage.

  Tormented, watery eyes peeked up through lashes wet with tears.

  “Good girl,” Ash whispered, still stroking her back. “You do not have to tell us anything you are not ready for. Understand?”

  A shaky nod, Hope’s gaze darting to Jason, then me. She groaned and her hands jerked in her lap, like she wanted to hide behind them again.

  Ash followed her gaze, a small crease appearing between his brows. “They will not push you either.” The steel in his voice warned us against arguing.

  “We won’t,” Jason agreed, unusually subdued as he stared at Hope’s tearstained cheeks.

  The sight of her pain was almost too much. A growl slipped out as my anger grew. Anger at Hope for refusing to give me a name. Anger at Ash for not letting me push her harder. But most of all, I was fighting the bloodlust building at each averted look, each tear on the little female’s pale cheeks. I wanted to maim and kill the fucker who’d hurt her, to really make him suffer.

  Those that prey on the innocent need to die. Painfully.

  “Ruarc . . .” Ash waited, a hard, impatient glint in his normally unruffled features.

  “Fine!” I snapped.

  “I’m sorry,” Hope said again, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t mean to cause all this—this trouble.” She waved her hand around in a gesture I took to include all three of us.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about, Hope. When you are ready to tell us, we will be here to listen. In the meantime, I am going to take a look at your wounds.”