The Bridal Hunt (Brides of the Hunt Book 1)

by Jeanette Lynn

To say the least, I was horrified—appalled. "For me?! I don't want you shooting at people and acting like a crazy person!" Of course, that was the wrong thing to say.

  "I am not fucking crazy!" George boomed out, his face contorting angrily.

  Chest heaving, he flushed crimson, veins throbbing in his neck as his shoulders hitched. Teeth gritting, he tightened his grip on the gun, raising it up again.

  Flinching at his tirade, I squealed as George made to lunge at me. Fingers grazing my shoulder, almost succeeding in nabbing me up, I took some small measure of relief when I wrenched free and he retreated at my choked out scream.

  Jumping off to the side of the table, tumbling a chair with me, I took a stumbling step back when he would have grabbed at me again. Berkr chose that moment to act, leaping at George, swiftly pouncing on him when he thought he was distracted enough.

  There was a fight, limbs flying, snarls and curses renting the air, and the gun went off unexpectedly. Shrieking, I jumped again, the shot ringing out in the room.

  Staring down at the floor as red spilled beneath them, I screamed, horrified, screaming again when Berkr slumped and fell to his side. “Berkr!”

  He grunted in pain, trying to wrestle the gun out of George's hands, but George was stronger than he looked and held tight, pummeling Berkr with his right fist as his left gripped the gun. Berkr tried to keep the gun aimed at the ceiling and away from me, bent on protecting me, even if that meant taking harder hits, as his exposed position opened him up to them.

  It seemed like Berkr's strength was starting to wane, his actions becoming delayed and sluggish, as their fight continued and the floor steadily seeped red.

  George reeled back and hit him with a well-aimed blow to the head, sending Berkr’s head lolling to the side. Eyes glassy, Berkr blinked a few times and looked to me. Mouthing run, he groaned, a pained growl escaping his throat before his eyes rolled back in his head and he went slack.

  Everything in me momentarily froze as blood quickly began to pool beneath him. "Oh god! Berkr! Is he dead? You killed him! Oh god. Oh god...You shot him! You freaking shot him! George!! How could you?!" Trembling, I cried out, standing there like a dumb ass.

  Babbling, I wanted to rush over and help him, take off to get help—grab something sharp and pointy, charge George and beat the living shit out of him, get back at that bastard for hurting my friend—but the beastie’s words echoed in my head, over and over. Run. Run. Run.

  Grunting with the effort, George pushed Berkr’s large frame the rest of the way off of him, and plopped free. Crawling a few feet away, he shook himself out and popped up.

  Stumbling to his feet, he dusted himself off and checked his gun. Eyes darting around to lock on me, smiling a sickly smile, he murmured my name sweetly and made as if to run over to me.

  I screamed, then screamed again, and scrambled away, ducking behind the table. Heart pounding fiercely in my chest, pulse hammering in my ears, I panicked, hands slapping the dishes, the dry rack, the fat hooks with various odds and ends dangling off them lined up behind me.

  Grabbing whatever was closest, the first thing I got a good grip on, fingers curling around a wide handle, I swing around. Hefting it with all my might, arms swinging over my right shoulder, I tossed it right at George’s thick, blonde head.

  The heavy cooking pan hit him square in the face and he flew back, legs kicking up, shrieking like the nasty little weasel he was.

  Sliding along the floor, slamming the ground hard with a jarring thud, his back took the brunt of the fall. Shouting out in pain, he brought both hands up to clutch at his face.

  “Ah, Willy! Shit!” Gun still tightly clutched in his left hand, he cursed wildly, groaning and cradling his nose.

  Half scrambling, half running, I was in motion the second the pan had left my hands. Headed straight for the door, I tripped on my own feet in my haste, gripping the handle and swinging it wide open. With one quick, backward glance at Berkr, I ran out and straight for the woods. I’ll get him help, I thought, if I make it out of this. Please still be alive, Berkr. Please be okay. Hold on, big guy. Hold on.

  Green and electric blue leaves slapped at me, prickly underbrush clinging to my legs, but I ignored it, tossing my arms up and pushing myself harder. I won’t let him get me. I won’t.

  Determined, panting heavily, I was halfway into the darker part of the woods—thick, heavily populated sticky brush sprouting up all around in abundance—before a small sob left my throat.

  Somehow this is all my fault. George is here because of me. Berkr is hurt—or maybe even dead—all because of me!

  No! George is crazy! I argued with myself. Beyond crazy. The guy’s a whack-a-doo. How can I be to blame for that? Did I make him crazy?

  Hell! I don't know what to fucking think!

  "Please be okay, Berkr! Please be okay," I chanted, dashing head long towards the Lo denaii’s sacred grounds, as Bia called them.

  Just up ahead was where they had their Bridal Hunts, or so I was told. I steered clear of the dark woods, as the females preferred to call the area bordering it, as well as the hunting grounds—not that I’d ever thought to venture out that far this way, or that I’d ever wanted to.

  An area I wasn’t all that fond of, no real direction in mind—simply escape—I went in anyway. Leaves crunching beneath my feet, the rare, stray coo or soft hoot of some as of yet to be seen creature, all else was eerily quiet. Within minutes I knew when I was officially on sacred Lo denaii ground.

  Did nothing live here? My steps slowed and I tensed, switching directions. Aside from the sound of my own breathing and the occasional chirp or crack of a branch here or there, probably coming from the living part of the woods, it was disgustingly quiet.

  The sacred grounds kind of give me the heebie-jeebies.

  Great, another reason to be weirded out. Rushing on, trotting until my quickening steps returned to a run, a new tension to add to my already frayed nerves washed over me. “As if I don’t have enough going on right now,” I mumbled to myself.

  ✽✽✽

  “Crazy people, sacred dirt, stupid George...” Muttering to myself hysterically, farther out, edging along the fringes of the dark woods and the creepy sacred grounds, I clamped my lips shut tight, realizing I might as well put a huge neon sign on my back that read, ‘She's right here, ya crazy asshole! Come and get her!’

  There was rustling somewhere off to my right, growing closer and closer as I started to slow. I wasn’t cut out for this stuff, huffing and puffing as I chuffed along, trying to muffle my winded, gasping pants with my hand over my mouth. I was making it all too easy for George, athlete of the year, to follow.

  George's heavy tread and harsh breathing sounded too close for my own comfort as he trampled after me like a raging bull elephant, shouting out after me. He’s way too close. Soon, if I didn’t hurry, he’d easily catch up.

  Ignoring the stitch in my side, the random foliage pulling at me, and the branches slapping at my face, I pushed myself harder, desperate to keep enough space between us.

  Realizing my lack of athleticism would most likely be the death of me, I needed a new plan. With that in mind, I kept my eyes peeled, a million thoughts and ideas racing through my brain. One in particular came to mind, but I had to find the right kind of place first. Quick. Quick. Not a moment to lose, Mina.

  When I reached an area dense with trees and thick underbrush, I ducked down, feeling around on my hands and knees, thinking about Veck’s hunting stories and those little critters that like to nest in the prickly vined bushes. He liked to collect their eggs, he said.

  A soft spot of dirt, churned up and crumbly, touched my fingertips, the ground dipping the farther I reached in. This would just have to work.

  Peering through the brush, the old nest looked long empty. Kicking the crumbling leaves and sticks to the side, I dove in. Forcing myself to fit, wiggling my generous rump inside, crouching down low to help camouflage myself, I tried to carefully rearrange the plant, make
it seem as undisturbed as possible, if I could. Snapping off a branch, I thrust my hand back through the prickly bushes, dusting off the ground in front of me and as far beyond as I could reach, hoping to erase any possible footprints or anything that might give me away.

  Restraightening the bush, I huddled down and waited, chewing on the inside of my cheek worriedly. Let this be enough. Don’t let him find me.

  A few minutes passed and the bushes to my right bristled, rustling as boots crunched leaves under foot. A few moments longer and George entered the clearing.

  He froze, eyes darting around wildly when he came upon it to find it empty. Face pulling tight, he scowled off into the distance. Muttering something under his breath, he huffed, taking off in another direction almost immediately. Hunched down, I kept quiet, holding perfectly still.

  Even as the minutes ticked by, I simply stayed put. I'd learned enough now to know you never underestimate anybody.

  I could already surmise how little Miss Candy fit into all of this. Guess who helped George find this place in the first place? No way could he have found the portal without her help. But why did she come back instead of just leading him here? Was she still that deluded into thinking he'd snap out of his crazy and marry her?

  Pausing, mid thought, I had to ask myself if I really even wanted to try and figure out the inner workings of her broken mind. Mm. Nah. I'd probably unintentionally lose I.Q. points trying to put myself in her shoes—best not even go there.

  George came back into the clearing not fifteen minutes later, as I’d suspected he would, creeping in quietly as he peered around. "Oh, Willy," he sing song-ed, scanning the area, his dark, hazel eyes skimming right over me.

  Holding perfectly still, praying he moved on, I held my breath.

  "You know, this wasn't easy," he mused, bending small branches out of his way as he started searching the treetops. "If Candy had just done what she was supposed to in the first place, I wouldn't have had to resort to such drastic measures." Heavy boots crunching as they slid on the ground, he set his pack down and settled himself, knees bent, leaning against a tree. "I know you're here. I can feel it.” Closing his eyes, one hand resting over his stomach, the gun he held loosely in the other by his leg.

  I'm trapped! Swallowing hard, I tried to tamp down the rising panic washing over me. Taking a long, slow breath, I willed my heart to stop jackhammering in my chest, but it just kept kicking up, the second George made a noise.

  This went on until my temples pounded, chest constricting, and I thought my head might explode. I’m going to die of fright.

  It was hard, but I thought of my mates and our unborn babies. I can’t let George find me—I just can’t. Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I managed a small modicum of calm. It helped, if only a little, so as to keep my choppy breaths quiet.

  Wishing for escape, I couldn't back up with the way I was snuggled into my little spot. If I did, I risked him hearing me rustling around. I'd give myself away before I could make a run for it, for sure. No, I was thoroughly stuck.

  "I was the reason she got caught by that giant, yellow-eyed white monster in the first place," George admitted, pulling me from my thoughts.

  My lips parted in surprise, but I muffled any sound quickly with my hand.

  Smiling smugly, George o’ the crazy-pants loonies chuckled to himself. "He was heading for the cabin—our cabin. He’d come back and I watched him, waiting to see what he would do. He broke in and started filling a sack with a bunch of your things, pumpkin. Can you believe it?" His voice grew angry. "He was only trying to take your things, and I knew he was the one who'd kidnapped you. I could never forget those evil yellow eyes."

  Then why did he end up with Candy, I thought, half hoping he'd continue. He didn't disappoint.

  "Candy had shown up earlier, trying to get me to live with her, again. You'd already been gone for a while and I was beginning to fear you really had died. They all said I was crazy. No one would believe me. But I knew. Oh, I knew... Crazy? Me? Hah!" He snorted at the idea and I heard a clicking noise. It sounded and awful lot like a lighter or something metallic flicking, but I was too chicken to peek up and look. "I am not crazy! And it was not a damned bear! I knew, even if they didn't believe that I knew what I saw really was what I thought."

  I took me a minute to follow the rambling at the end there but, eventually, I got it.

  "That's when I got my idea. It was brilliant, really," he said smugly, a hint of the crazy seeping in again. "He wanted a woman, so I gave him one: Candy." Chuckling darkly, he snickered at that for a few minutes.

  That set me back, my eyebrows shooting up to kiss my hair line. Okay, so... does he really think I'm here? Or does he just like hearing himself talk?

  The metallic sound click-clicked and George cursed, tossing something into the bushes. It landed not three feet away from me, shiny and bright as it glinted. Definitely a lighter. God, what the hell had he planned to do with it?

  The sound of a zipper and rustling reached my ears and I crossed my fingers he was just taking a piss and not looking for matches. I had no desire to be smoked out of my hiding spot or end up burned alive.

  With that idea rattling around in my head, I dared chancing a glance at him. Creeping forward, careful where my feet shuffled, George came into sight.

  Talking to himself, I’d say, he was rifling through a pack, mumbling absently as he checked the batteries in a large flashlight. Setting the pack down with a disgusted shake of his head, he pulled out a bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap, he chugged down more than half.

  "Ah... I needed that.” Screwing the cap back on, he leaned back against the tree. “Now, where was I...? Oh, yeah. Of course, the little bitch didn't want to do it at first, you know. I had to make up some bullshit about marrying her if I could find you and finally get past our break up and the guilt I felt for your disappearance. Blah-blah-blah. Pfft. She actually bought it." Rolling his eyes, George chuckled, snorted, and shook his head. Hooting out a short, amused laugh, he smiled crookedly. "What a twit. Hmm. But anyway, so she acts like she's stumbled across him and starts screaming bloody murder—she's a terrible actress, by the way—but luckily the screaming worked. While they were doing that I slipped into my truck and started the engine, revving it up to make him think I was just pulling in. The stupid beast panicked, grabbed the screaming bitch and took off, leaving your things behind."

  Kirch didn't really want her. He was just getting my things for me... If I wasn’t scared spitless I would have smiled at that.

  "I brought them for you," George said coaxingly, making me frown. "Your things... I thought you might be missing having your own things with you. I hid them in some caves I'd found my first night here, along with a few... other things. We can go there, if you like?"

  Riiight. Let me just hop up and get right on that, trade everything I have in for immaterial crap.

  There was a noise in the brush off to the side—a bush swaying as leaves crackled. Rolling to his feet and jumping up, George pulled a syringe out of his pocket. A nasty, teeth baring smile sliding across his face, he cocked his head as if to listen.

  Eyes bugging out of my skull, I gulped quietly as he pulled the cap off and inched towards the bristling bushes. A syringe! What the heck is in that?! But then I stared at his empty left hand and remembered. Hah. He left the gun behind! Gaze darting from him to the abandoned weapon, my best chance at a way out of here, I eyed it as he started whacking the bushes, his actions growing angrier and more vicious by the minute, in his search for me. Weighing my options, I didn’t have much time.

  "Wilhelmina! Come out now! I am at the end of my rope! I have been patient up until this point! We need to make it to our new house before it gets dark, darling!"

  Clamping my lips shut tight, I shrank down, huddling into a tight ball until my back ached and my knees cramped, watching him as he paced angrily right in front of me. Our home? New house? Whah...?

  "I know what you've been doing," he accused, catchin
g my attention. "I know you've been fucking them, all three of them, and I won't be having it! I'll kill every single one of them before I let one touch you again!"

  No! My breath caught, a whisper of sound, and I cringed. George paused and his gaze swiveled, tipping his head to the side as if listening for me to give myself away. Lips tightening, he closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing, his jaw unclenching after a few minutes.

  "It worked, you know," he spat quietly. "You were trying to make me jealous, and it worked. I get it. You wanted to make me see how desirable you are. Believe me, pumpkin, I know. I know..." His eyes took on a weird, faraway look and he shuddered. Skin prickling, he let out a gusty moan, adjusting himself in his black cargos. "I imagined it was me," he murmured huskily, licking his lips. "When I saw the smaller one fucking you outside, I pretended it was me. I know you saw me there. How could you not? Our love is too strong not to."

  My stomach clenched and bile rose in my throat. He was watching us? He’s fucking beyond sick! And he's never going to leave me alone. The sick fuck stalked me through a god damned portal, for chrissake!

  Another rustle sounded, probably a bird or small critter, sending a small grouping of fat leafed plants skittering. George lunged, diving for the electric colored fern, rifling around until he’d parted the bushes right by me. Whacking the tops with his arm, he growled and stepped back as a fat rodent came scrambling out, disappointed when he didn't find me.

  The syringe disappeared behind his back again and his gaze roamed the area speculatively. "You don't really love them. I don't care what Candy thinks, and I'll prove it to you. I'll cure you of your fascination with those... beasts." Eyes narrowing, he crouched down and thrust his hands into a mass of fat, purple bushes just opposite me and the fat leafed ferns, rummaging through them as he snarled unintelligibly.

  Sensing he’d be coming this way next, I backed up a little, squelching a yelp when a branch snapped loudly, digging into my palm as I twisted and flopped back.

  George grinned, jerking up, and walked right over to where I was hidden. “Ah, now I see...” Picking off the thorned creeping vines, he started to part the bushes, seconds away from unearthing me, but I sprung up and knocked him over first.