Page 28 of Hunt Me
Her name perfectly matches her large hazel eyes, sandy-beige skin and ragged curls that fall all around her. But best of all, she matches me. She matches perfectly with what I had known she would be since that very second I noticed her. My Fauna is always running, ready for me to chase her.
Another pained moan breaks my obsessive thoughts.
Mischief over here had a little too much to drink last night and passed out in my arms. I’d fought the drowsiness, wanting to stay awake in case any of those rats from the sewers had followed us, but I must have caved at some point. Thankfully, I had barricaded the door as a safety precaution when I came back up last night.
I crack one very dry eye open, finding locks of her wavy brown hair fanned across us both, and my cheeks begin to ache with the way I’m grinning so hard. Her hair is matted, but that doesn’t take away from her beauty, in fact, it adds to it. The soft look she has on her wee hungover face and the bit of drool at the corner of her plump lips is adorable.
My free arm reaches overhead as I attempt a full-body stretch. This tiny sofa is not in the slightest bit comfortable; no cushioning, just pain. Some people's tastes will never make sense to me. They could have chosen from all levels of comforts,and instead, they picked this torturous antique. If the virus didn’t kill them, I bet trying to survive in the new world did.
Thinking I’ve made it to my successful stretch without disturbing little miss mischief next to me, I relax too soon. An almighty pop of my back disturbs the silence seeming to echo around the hollow ass room. Fucking minimalists and their lack of clutter. Of course, my luck is up and the sound wakes the beauty beside me from her slumber.
Fauna shifts against me, letting out a dissatisfied grumble as she adjusts her body beside me.
The movement causes the air to shift and I get hit by a brick wall of that disgusting smell again.
I pinch my nose quickly.
I fucking hope that’s not her breath.
Thankfully, my little deer must smell it too because she’s up like a lightning bolt, and before my sight fully focuses on her curled form, she’s heaving her guts up.
I can’t help myself, maybe it’s a mixture of dehydration and the nasty fumes but I’m chuckling at how adorable this all is.
‘That bad?’I ask.
She groans before bending forward, heaving again.
I sit up, taking her hair into my hands so that it is out of her way, and gently rub circles across her back.
It must have been a while since she had a proper meal because her next retching session just comes out as dry heaving.
Fauna sucks in gulps of air before letting herself fall backwards and collapsing into my embrace. Her breathing is laboured, and her eyes scrunched up, so I continue my rhythm of circles on herupper back as I tuck stray strands of unruly brown hair behind her ears.
Despite the noticeable smell of shit clinging to us both, clearly from the sewers, her hair still smells intoxicating. Its sweet, like fresh honey and entirely like her. Not having an ounce of self-control, I angle our bodies so that I can discreetly bury my face into it, breathing deeply.
Yes, I know the smell of her is most likely her sweat, but what can I say? I’m a man obsessed. And she smells too fucking good.
After lying like this, not a peep from either of us, I begin to think she has passed out again.
How long has it been since I’ve had someone in my arms like this? Felt so warm and … fuzzy.
I huff a quiet laugh at that. There is not a chance I would ever say that thought aloud. It would definitely get my ass kicked by the lads back at the stadium, not to mention ruin our reputation around these parts.
‘What’s so funny?’her voice is weak, and she doesn’t move from where she is bundled in my arms.
‘Life,’I sigh.
Life is a strange one for sure. One minute, you’re laughing with your family, the next half of them are dead and you’re your little sister's only protector – a responsibility I failed at and with devastating consequences – then you’re all alone. The lingering ache in my chest rises again at the memory of Isla. It’s been years since I saw her vanish into the flames. A part of me broke that day, and it has never been repaired since.
Warmth is absent from my chest as soon as Fauna moves; opening my eyes, I find her staring at me. Big brown irises boring into my own as if she’s trying to read my mind.
‘Life’s a bitch,’she says, her voice firm, then pushes to sit up, then stand.
I sigh, watching her as she moves around the room,‘it is indeed, little deer. It is indeed.’
Her movements stop and straighten. Those big eyes are on mine again. Just like they were last night when I’d called her the nickname I’d gifted her myself.
‘Deer,’she shakes her head, not doing much to hide the upturn of her lips.
