Page 53 of A Touch Of Death

Until another twig snaps close behind me.

I freeze where I stand before coming to my senses and quickly hiding behind the nearest tree. I practically glue myself to the tree with my heart thundering painfully in my chest with panic. When a rustle of leaves sounds out closer than before, and another wretched twig snaps, I glamour my body to look like the bark I'm suctioned to.

Careful to keep my breathing shallow and quiet, I stand still against the tree. Using my ability, I slow my heartbeat, only until it doesn't feel like it's about to crash through my rib cage. With a steadier heartbeat and a camouflage that can't be beaten, I wait while terror grips my throat with an iron fist. I listen for more noises, for the rustle of clothing, anything that would give me some indication as to how close my tracker is.

Not even a moment later, a man walks through the trees from where I came. He wears a black baseball cap, but I spy dirty blonde curls poking out from underneath it. He's tall, with defined muscles in his shoulders and back. His steps are steady and slow, careful not to make any more noise than he already has.

But suddenly he stops.

I hold my breath, turning to stone where I stand. The man tilts his head to the right and then to the left. He stays that way for a moment before standing straight and dropping his arms at his sides. I spot large black and grey tattoos that wrap around his arms and sneak under his sleeves. He's weaponless, but he's dressed the same as the mercenaries Davis brought with him when he found me in the parking lot: black cargo pants, tight black t-shirt, and military boots.

As though he has all the time in the world, the man turns his head until half of his face comes into view. From my angle, I'm able to see a blonde trimmed beard that lines his sharp jaw and upper lip. His nose is straight, the one eyebrow I can see is arched, and the part of his lips that's visible is full and turned up in an amused grin.

And then he turns completely, facing my direction as though... he can see me. Surely not. I know my glamour is still in place, and I'm pretty certain I look more like the tree than the tree itself. But he faces me, with his lips still tilted in a grin and eyebrow raised. When my eyes reach his, they're on me. A set of deep violet eyes stare directly into mine, the colour of an amethyst jewel. I suppress a shiver, but my spine tingles, and a fluttering begins in my chest.

"That's smart. Quick thinking. I like it," he says, crossing his arms over his chest causing his biceps to strain against his shirt. His voice is rough and gravelly, like he's smoked twenty cigarettes every day for years. The sound has goosebumps breaking out over my skin, which is a ridiculous reaction to have to someone who's here to fuckingcaptureme.

His mouth pulls into a bigger grin when I don't react, drop my glamour, or move away from my tree. I don't think I could if I tried, honestly. I feel paralysed with fear, and something else. Something...familiar.

When he takes a step closer to where I stand, the panic I'd been withholding finally boils, and my paralysis snaps enough that I phase away from him in a blink. I keep phasing, throwing caution to the wind and hoping I'll have enough energy to get away from the man. I keep going further still until I reach an empty road bordered by a thicket of trees.

I land right in the middle of the road, looking from one end to the other. Panic is clawing at me, the sharp nails of hysteria cutting through my skin relentlessly. How was I found so quickly? What the hell kind of reaction did he stir in me? Better yet, why was the feeling so familiar?

A swift breeze has my hair billowing around my head, but I bat it out of the way as I look down one end of the road to the other. With my mind racing, I'm not quick enough to decide which way I should be heading, and further down the road the violet-eyed man appears, stepping out from the cover of the trees to stand in the middle of the road opposite me.

My spine stiffens, and a surge of fear rushes through me. The man tilts his head to the side, very much the same way he did before, but he doesn't move closer. He watches me closely, his eyes as sharp as an eagle’s.

My hand twitches at my side, and his eyes dart straight to them before coming back to watch my face. Slowly, another grin forms on his face. His eyes crinkle at the edges from his smile, and I'm cursing my mind for thinking he's handsome. Incredibly so. But that doesn't do anything to stave off the fear that's still pumping through my blood. The terror is so potent that my senses go into overdrive. There's a high-pitched ringing in my ears, my eyes are laser-focused, and my body is so wired that my hands are shaking too hard to appear steady.

In a move I wasn't expecting, the stranger moves his hands until his palms are facing me as they stay next to his hips. The move almost looks placating, like he's trying to appease a startled and frightened animal. His hands raise further, but he doesn't move from where he stands.

What this man doesn't seem to realise is that after five years of hell, it takes a lot more than a stupid fucking hand gesture to make me trust anyone. Especially someone dressed as the enemy. Despite the strange reaction to this man, I don't let my guard down. In fact, the reaction I'm having to him alone is enough to build more distrust.

With my body trembling, I move my hands backwards a fraction, concealing them slightly from sight. His eyes dart down again before coming back up. A frown pulls at his eyebrows, and he's faster to lift his hands until they're right in front of him.

My fingers twitch, and without any effort, dust fills my palms, hovering just above my skin ready to use at any given moment. I don't make any outward reactions to his movement, but it almost seems like he knows exactly what I'm doing. He steps forward, and I startle, moving back as a reflex. He stops immediately, but then he approaches slower.

Suddenly realising this could very well be a trap, and feeling utterly stupid for not thinking of it sooner, I quickly glance around, begging my eyes to take in everything at once. I don't catch any strangers lurking amongst the trees, so I focus back on the stranger before me. The stranger who's moved even closer while I wasn't looking. My heart was pounding before, but now it feels like it's seconds away from bursting right out of my chest with the distance he managed to eat up while I wasn't paying attention.

"I'm not going to hurt you," his gravelly voice calls out, dropping his hands slowly while trying to sneak another step towards me.

I snort like he said something funny, but my eyes narrow on him with equal amounts of fury and fear. "Sure, you won't. You'll only hand me over to the people that held me captive for five years. And that's before they murdered all of my people right before my eyes."

I see his jaw clench, but he doesn't comment. His eyes fill with an emotion I don't recognise right away, but it's gone before I can place a finger on it. He also doesn't tell me I'm wrong and that he isn't here to hand me over the first chance he gets. Well, he's in for a surprise because he's going to have a hard time trying.

He points to my arm where the tracker lays and says, "That's going to be a problem if you plan on getting away."

My eyes narrow with suspicion, and my palms tickle with the dust that's built there. Fear is still flowing through my bloodstream, but it's evenly-matched with the anger and pain of what I had to endure for so long at the hands of the people this asshole works for.

"Are you going to be a problem?" I ask, the snark unintentional but there regardless. I really shouldn't be pissing off the man that's bigger than me.

Instead of my question making him angry like I suspected, he grins again, flashing a set of pearly white teeth. I clench my jaw tight and mentally chastise myself for thinking that smile rivals my four’s smiles.

I make a frustrated noise at the back of my throat and shake my head. Something the man takes for granted again when he steps closer. He's only a few short feet away from me, and my panic spikes more than before. The pounding beneath my ribs grows heavier and harder, but something stops me from moving away. Once again, it's a familiar feeling to me, but the man speaks before I can make sense of it.

"I'll only be a problem if you make me one. I can help you." He points to the tracker in my arm again, and I won't lie, that has me intrigued. Why would he help me? He's on the wrong side, sent to capture me, yet he wants to help? Am I in the twilight zone or something?

Eyeing him slowly, my eyes narrowed with skepticism, I ask, "Why?"

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