Total pages in book: 193
Estimated words: 184001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 920(@200wpm)___ 736(@250wpm)___ 613(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 184001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 920(@200wpm)___ 736(@250wpm)___ 613(@300wpm)
Right now, I’m just deeply annoyed that my boyfriend’s alternate identity dragged me off to some cave like we’re cosplaying in some raunchy horror. I need to figure him the fuck out, and I can’t do it kneeling in a goddamn puddle, so I rise.
Bane isn’t lurking like I expected when I look around, so I start off in the direction he disappeared, looking for sticks that I can use to make a snare as I go, but I don’t find him. I do find a deer though, and it’s browsing for food like I am. The doe’s head is bent as it sniffs at an acorn. I reach for an arrow out of instinct only to remember that they were lost to the river.
All I have is Zeke’s knife, but I’d have to get close…
I keep my steps light. The wet ground helps to keep them silent. My position isn’t great since I’m in the doe’s direct line of sight. I’m also upwind, but the petrichor is heavy in the air, creating a scent mask. Still, if the doe lifts her head, I’m fucked.
I’m carefully reaching for Zeke’s knife when I see a shadow move beyond the deer. My gaze flicks toward it to make sure it isn’t another predator creeping up on my kill, and I see Bane, still shirtless with his dark hair plastered to his head. He’s stalking the doe too, but unlike me, his focus is intent on his prey while I can’t help but watch him and wonder…
What the hell is he doing?
I have Zeke’s knife. Bane has no weapon.
I’m so busy watching him that I forget to watch my footing and I step on an acorn. The doe lifts her head and she sees me. Thankfully, she doesn’t bolt immediately. The elongated ovals of her ears twitch as she watches me and wonders if I’m dangerous enough to fear, if she’s seen me before, and if I’m a hunter. I don’t move and try my best to look like none of those things while Bane closes in like a quiet storm, but Bambi’s mom isn’t fooled.
Her right foreleg raises, and I tighten my grip on the handle of Zeke’s hunting knife.
Come on. Come on, Bane.
The doe leaps at the same time Bane does. My heart feels like it’s lodged in my throat, and my stomach feels twisted into a pretzel as I watch them collide.
Ohhhh…my fucking God.
Bane actually wrestles it to the ground with the stealth and power of a jaguar hunting a gazelle.
Except he’s just a man.
He’s not superhuman, or other, and he’s certainly not a goddamn animal. He’s real. As real as Zeke. As caring as Seth. Has anyone ever known this Bane?
The doe bleats and kicks as it fights to get free, and I wince when some of them land. After the third kick to Bane’s shoulder, a distressed whimper tears from my lips and I move in with the knife. Bane has the doe pinned but is struggling to hold on to it. I’m worried that he’ll get seriously injured if he holds on for much longer, so I hurry to close the gap when Bane wraps his arms around the doe’s neck. The muscles in his bicep and forearms bulge just before I hear a sickening crunch, and I realize he’s snapped the doe’s neck.
Bane stands and meets my gaze. “Food.”
“That was your plan?” I yell. “You could have gotten yourself killed!”
“Food,” he repeats with a glare. And then softly, “Food for Mine.”
Like the tide, I feel my anger being carried away—or rolled away as if Bane had just kicked it down a grassy knoll where the sun always shines. It’s impossible to stay mad at him. I run my gaze over Bane’s chest. Other than a few blooming bruises nothing seems out of place like a dislocated shoulder or a broken arm or rib. But Bane doesn’t seem to feel pain, so how can I really be sure without Seth or Zeke to tell me? It just reminds me that I need to stop letting my curiosity get in the way of finding a way to wake Zeke.
“Thank you,” I finally say before turning to the doe.
Transporting it will only increase the risk of spoiling the meat, so I quickly get to work field dressing the dead doe with Zeke’s hunting knife. Bane disappears again, but this time I feel him close by, warning me not to run.
Fortunately, I’ve played this game already, so I know instinctively that he’s testing me.
“You might as well come out now,” I call out once I’m done gutting and partially skinning the doe. “I’m not going to run.” My muscles are aching, and I’m sweaty, spent, and even more ravenous than before. The river and trying to escape the cave must have taken more of my energy than I thought. I don’t have the fight in me for another test.