by Celia Aaron
A tiny boar dashed past me and bent its head at the small stream at my back. Another one barreled out of the night and joined its sibling for a drink. Their coarse black hair, striped with a lighter brown, shone in the moonlight and their stubby tails flicked and wagged. I sighed with relief.
Dropping my arm to my side, I stood up straight. “You two scared the shit out of me.” My breath puffed in front of my face.
They happily ignored me and kept slurping at the stream, one of them squealing lightly. They seemed cute in a creepy, middle-of-the-night sort of way. Or maybe they weren’t cute at all, and I was just relieved to find harmless piglets instead of a bear or the rumored panthers. I was too tired to give it much thought, and I kept trudging forward, still seeking the sounds of the screams.
Throwing them one last glance, I continued toward the beckoning light through the trees. Garrett Blackwood had left a light on, or maybe he was sitting in a room along this side of the house. Or maybe he’s in the woods dismembering the screamer’s body. I shivered and kept my knife in my free hand.
I made it a dozen steps before the huff sounded again, louder this time, and followed by a low grunt. Leaves crunched as the animal approached. The noises alone told me I was dealing with a much larger boar than the two piglets. I edged to the closest tree and leaned into it, seeking some form of cover. It was barely wider than I was, but I would have to cross into open moonlight to make it to a bigger tree about twenty feet away.
Peeking around the pine, I saw the boar emerge from a nearby thicket. Though I didn’t see any tusks, it had to weigh at least two-hundred pounds, maybe more. It lumbered through the undergrowth with heavy grunts.
The boar snorted along the roots of a tree, then raised its head and began to move toward the piglets. I edged around the tree, trying to keep my steps quiet as I hugged the bark and circled. The boar kept coming and passed in front of me, its steps steady as it approached the stream.
My lungs burned and I took a calming breath. Another dense thicket rose to my left. If I could get closer to it, it would serve as something of a hedge and hide me from the boar.
I eased out from behind the tree and chose careful steps as the massive beast drank along with the piglets. The tangled brambles ahead promised safety, and there were only a few more feet left to go before I’d be out of sight.
That’s when I heard another boar snort close behind me. Whirling, I found a dark blur charging me through the moonlight, a ghostly shine on its upturned tusks.
I darted to the left as the animal careened past and into the thicket behind me. Breaking into a run, I tore down the slight slope toward the light in the woods. Hooves pounded the ground behind me, at least two of the monsters giving chase as I tried to manage the dark forest. I didn’t dare glance around, just kept my hellish pace and tried to avoid roots and branches.
The cold air burned my lungs, and sapling limbs slapped against my body and face as I crashed through the woods. I kept hoping the boars would lose interest, maybe turn back to take care of the smaller pigs. Instead, the snorts and grunts behind me kept up even as my strength waned, the long day and the cold air weighing me down and slowing my pace.
I slid the straps of my pack off my shoulders and let it fall. The lighter load urged me faster, and I chanced a glance behind me. Only one animal remained, the other sniffing the pack I left behind. Jumping a small stream, I hit the ground and veered to the right around another bramble thicket. I couldn’t see the light any longer, but I knew I was still headed toward it and the mirage of salvation.
I’d almost cleared the tangle of vines when a burning pain ripped across my calf, the boar’s teeth sinking into me. I stumbled and fell, stings and pain erupting along my face and hands as the thicket’s thorns drew blood. I screamed and turned. My knife dropped away, lost in the dark maze of criss-crossing agony. The boar’s breath formed a puff of steam as it advanced, no longer in a hurry. It was as if it knew I was snared, and all it had to do was wait. The thorns snagged all along my coat and in my hair. It would take time to rip myself free, but I had none.
I kicked out with my good leg, but missed its wide snout. It surveyed me with black eyes, then lunged forward, spearing my bloodied calf with its tusk again. Another scream ripped from my lungs as I brought my heel down on the side of its head. It squealed and backed away, but quickly came again. The blood must have drawn it to my injured leg, because it went for it and latched on with a strong bite.
Screaming and kicking, I fought as pain overwhelmed my senses and mixed with terror. It yanked, dragging me from the thicket. Being out in the open was somehow worse than being trapped in a wall of thorns.
I landed another kick right on its eye, and it let go with a snort. Caught between the thicket and the boar, I had nowhere to go. Not that I could walk. My leg wound was too extensive. Tears threatened as the second boar approached, its nose in the air as it scented my blood. I felt around behind me, trying to find my knife and ignoring the thorns that ripped my already injured palms. It was my only chance.
The boar with the tusks regrouped and lunged forward again, seeking my injured leg. I kicked, but it grabbed my right foot in its mouth and clamped down around my boot. The second boar, emboldened, ran up behind its mate, grunting and snorting its interest.
I balled my hands into fists, leaned forward, and swung at the monstrous black snout. I connected, but the beast didn’t let go. Instead, it shook me so hard I thought it might pull my leg from its socket.
A scream bubbled from my throat as its teeth punctured my boot and dug into my heel. The other boar circled around toward my left.
I would die out here.
The realization of death didn’t come like a sucker punch; it came as a cold finality. It was almost calming to know with certainty that the end is imminent and utterly unavoidable. I felt the cold air in my lungs, the roaring pain radiating from my leg, the tickle of hoarseness in my throat—everything all at once, my last bits of life. Was my father’s ghost here, watching me die in the same woods where he perished?
The second boar snorted with agitation as it advanced, skirting the thicket and hemming me in. It surveyed me with black, shiny eyes. This was it. I readied my fists for the final assault.
The boar at my foot yanked viciously as the one to my left charged.
A shot cracked through the frozen air. The boar to my left stumbled and dropped, its forward momentum from the charge sending it skidding into my side. It shuddered and stared up at me with one black eye.
Another shot echoed through the trees and the boar at my feet released its hold and backed up a few steps. It turned and started to run, moving like a drunk through the trees. Another shot, and it dropped to the ground with a thud and didn’t move.
I scooted away from the dying boar and cried out from the searing pain in my leg. The woods swam, the trees no longer straight but becoming wavelengths transmitting my horror. Leaves crunched nearby, and a dark shape approached as I struggled to breathe and keep my eyes open.
He knelt down and peered at me as words came out of his mouth. I didn’t understand him, though I caught a “fuck” here and there. I couldn’t concentrate, so I stared into his eyes. They were familiar, even in the dark. A steely blue. Like water beneath a stormy sky. My vision fuzzed black at the corners, and then I fell deep into that churning water, a storm raging above me.
Chapter Eight
Fire bored through my calf, each lick of flame hotter than the last. I came to on a scream.
“Great.” The same deep voice from the woods.
I tried to rub my eyes, but I couldn’t move my hands. The burn intensified as I struggled.
“Stop moving!” A large palm gripped my thigh, skin to skin.
Blinking hard, I took a look around. I was in a room, the décor dated. A fan twirled above me, and two wide windows showed me nothing except a reflection of the interior. It was still dark outside.
The man from the woods bent over my leg, and a flash of
searing heat shot through me again. I struggled, but he’d tied me to the bed.
“Let me go!” I yanked at the rope, but it didn’t give, only dug into my wrists.
“I said for you to stop fucking moving.” His voice remained calm, cold.
I couldn’t make out much other than dark brown hair and a plaid shirt over broad shoulders. He didn’t meet my gaze, keeping his face turned toward my calf. He’d rescued me from the boars only to tie me to his bed? Fear churned in my stomach, and I turned my head to the side, afraid I was going to be sick.
He let out a heavy sigh, and his tone gentled the slightest bit. “Stay still. I’m trying to sew you up.”
“It hurts.” Tears welled and rolled down my temples. The fear and agony of the woods painted my thoughts a murky color, and I couldn’t seem to think clearly.
“I can either sew it up or let you bleed out.” He rose to his full height and peered down at me, his eyes so familiar yet so changed from the college photo. He had a short, dark beard and hair that almost brushed his shoulders. Wild. “I’ve cleaned your wounds as best I can. The nearest hospital is an hour away. It was risk you dying to drive you there or this. I chose to keep you alive, though I don’t have a clue why. So don’t fucking move, and I’ll finish what I started.”
I withered under his fierce gaze as the deep ache in my leg seemed to thump along with my heartbeat. “I don’t know if I can be still.”
“You have to be.” He bent over, his hair forming a dark curtain between us.
I pulled on my bindings again. “Untie me.”
He turned and slammed his fist into the sturdy wooden bed post, his anger swift and surprising. “If you hadn’t been on my land illegally, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“I heard screaming. I wanted to help her.” The room began to expand and contract with my breaths. Why didn’t the plaster crack? “She’s in the woods. A woman in pain.”
“There was no screaming.” He turned to me again, his eyes barely showing through his waves of dark hair. “I would apologize about this, but I’m not sorry.”
“About wha—” My question turned into a wail as more agony than I thought possible cascaded up my leg, silenced my heart, and drowned my mind in a sea of terror.
Silence.
Birds. Where did all the birds come from? I cracked my eyes open and stared at the lazy turn of the dusty ceiling fan. Each blade passed by slowly, whispering something to the air right next to it, though I couldn’t make out the secrets.
My body ached, my leg sending waves of discomfort along with the steady beat of my heart. The shadows of the prior night danced and skittered across my mind—the woods, the boars, and Garrett Blackwood.
I turned my head to look out the sunny windows.
The cold woods gave off an innocuous air in the morning light, the oranges and golds trying to lull me into a false sense of security. But I remembered the screams. Something was wrong in those trees, and it wasn’t just my father’s death. Whatever claimed his life seemed to be intent on collecting others as well.
I tried to sit up, but the throbbing in my leg advised against it. Instead, I raised up on an elbow and gave my body a once over. I still wore my bra, tank top, and underwear. My pants and other layers had been stripped from me. I rested on top of the covers, my body exposed, my turquoise panties on full display. Embarrassment was overtaken by curiosity as I studied Garrett Blackwood’s handiwork. My left leg was carefully bandaged with white gauze, and my right foot had patches of gauze covering the spots where the boar’s teeth had punctured my skin.
Wincing at the memory, I lay back down and finished my inventory. My hands bore a patchwork of adhesive bandages, and my muscles groaned as I repositioned myself in the bed. I would recover, though I worried about the extensive work he’d done on my left leg. I grabbed my right wrist and felt the slight sting left from the rope. What kind of man ties up an injured person? The rope was gone; he’d cleared away any evidence of my bondage, though the red marks on my wrists left me unsettled.
A board creaked in the hall, and I grabbed a handful of the quilt beneath me and flipped it over my body. Closing my eyes, I feigned sleep.
The door opened, and the air in the room changed, became fuller—charged with the heartbeat and movements of another person.
“I know you’re awake.” The bed sank near my feet.
“Garrett Blackwood?” I opened my eyes and stared at the man who stared right back. His cold eyes told me nothing, not even whether he was friend or foe.
“Why were you on my land?” His scruffy beard spread across his gaunt cheekbones, down his throat, and tickled his Adam’s apple with its dark curls.
“I heard screams. You didn’t hear them?”
“I sure did.” He narrowed his eyes. “Turned out it was some idiot trespassing girl who couldn’t take care of herself.”
“No.” I struggled to sit up, ignoring the fire in my calf. “Before that. I heard her.”
“You didn’t hear anything except your own imagination. And look where that got you.” He extended his long index finger, pointing at my leg.
I shifted farther up the bed, but groaned at the fresh wave of hell that rocketed along my nerve endings.
He scratched his jaw, the sound bristly and rough. “Do I need to tie you up again, Red?”
I stopped moving and glared at him. “My professor will come looking for me. There are others, too. The sheriff—”
“Has already stopped by early this morning after I called him.” He smirked. “He brought your clothes and personal things from the hotel where you’ve been staying.”
“What?”
He pointed to the dresser where my overnight case sat. “He came in here to check on you and everything.”
Color raced into my cheeks, and I swallowed hard. “But I wasn’t wearing any pants.”
His smirk grew bigger, and he let his gaze slide down my body, his eyes lingering on the quilted patch covering my panties. “No, I suppose you weren’t.”
“I have to get out of here.” I scanned the room for my clothes.
He stood and put his hands on his narrow hips, the sun peeking through the triangles created on either side of his body and exaggerating his V-shape. “Not until your leg heals up.”
Now that I’d finally found a clue to my father’s death, I couldn’t waste another moment. “No, I have to go—”
“Let’s get one thing clear.” He stepped closer and glowered down at me. “I don’t want you here. I want nothing to do with you or whatever it is you’re digging for. That’s why I refused to sign your papers.” His glower turned even darker, like a menacing thundercloud. “Remember that?”
My forgery hadn’t exactly been the best move, but it had led to a major discovery about my father. I wouldn’t regret it, no matter what sort of trouble it led to. I stiffened my spine as best I could. “I remember.”
“But you trespassed anyway. I should have you arrested.” He ran a hand through his dark hair and backed away a step. “Instead, Sheriff Crow wants you to recover here in the lap of luxury—” A mirthless chuckle escaped his lips. “So word doesn’t get out that you didn’t enjoy your time in our fair county. Especially not that you got attacked and almost killed under his watch.” He hung his head, his chin touching his chest and his dark hair catching the light. “Fuck me, this sucks.”
“You can’t keep me here,” I said with far more bravado than I felt. “I refuse to be held prisoner by a psycho in need of a shower and shave.”
He laughed, this time the sound rich and sultry. It reverberated inside my chest. Something about it reminded me of the forest, the way the sunrise warmed it but couldn’t quite reach its dark heart.
“You don’t like my beard?” He sat next to me, much closer this time.
My pulse ratcheted up, and I took in a quick breath.
“Well?” He grinned and took my wrist.
I tried to pull it away, but his grip was like an iron shackle. He e
ased the back of my hand down his cheek. “Not so bad, is it?”
It wasn’t. Not exactly soft, it felt thick and masculine. Rich. “What are you doing?” I leaned back until I pressed up against the headboard.
He moved closer, his woodsy scent a mix of smoke and soap. Maybe he didn’t need a shower after all. I didn’t turn away, not even when his lips were only inches from mine.
“I just wanted to see.” His eyes flickered to my lips.
“You’re about to see what a vicious head butt looks like.” My rapid pulse infected my voice, making it quaver.
“Yeah?” He squeezed my wrist harder. “I don’t believe you.”
“Fuck you.” I stared into his eyes, searching the stormy irises for some way to solve the enigma of Garrett Blackwood.
He smirked again, just the slightest quirk of his lips, then leaned back and released my wrist. The air cooled between us, and goose bumps rose along my bare arms.
“I won’t stay here,” I said as he stood.
“Wrong.” He shook his head slowly, as if he were disappointed in a small child. “You’ll stay right there until I say you can leave.”
“I’ll be gone long before then.” I tested my leg, trying to move it to show him I could do it. The scorching pain brought tears to my eyes. I bit them back and stilled. Fuck. “And where’s my car? Did you take it?”
“Your car?” He scratched his beard and shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Like I said, you aren’t going anywhere.”
“This is bullshit!” If I could have pummeled something, I would have. “Give me my phone.”
“Not a chance. And don’t kid yourself, Red. As soon as I can kick your ass out, I will.” He turned and walked to the door, eating up the dark wood floor with his long strides.
I glared at his retreating back and stifled a litany of curses. They wouldn’t do any good. “My name is Elise.”
“I’m aware of that, Red.” He shot an amused look over his shoulder as he walked out the door. “I’ll make your breakfast and bring it to you, but just so you know”—His voice floated back to me over the creaking floorboards— “I can’t cook for shit.”