Page 40 of Haunting the Hunter

I swat her hand away without flinching, keeping my face uninterested. “What was he driving?”

The redhead speaks up again, voice a little tighter now. “Old red Chevy. Rusted to shit.”

I walk away while they disappear into their room, door slamming behind them. I pull out my phone.

Room 13 reeks of mildew and regret but my body begs for sleep, so I give in and sink into the bed.

I drift off… You’re here again,I think.I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending this isn’t breaking me. I don’t even know what to call you. You don’t speak. You just appear. And when you do, it consumes me.

All I see is smoke curling around me until you’re all I see. A beautiful shadow hovering over me. Dancing over my skin—so gentle it drives me insane. I feel a mouth wrap around me. Slow and deliberate. My abs tighten instantly, muscles flexing hard as I grip the sheets.

I feel you sink lower onto me. Swallowing me whole as my hips jerk into the feeling. A sharp breath tears from my throat. The way you move—fuck.

I twist the sheets until my knuckles ache, fighting the urge to take control, knowing I have none here.

Your mouth is a prayer and I’m your altar.

I want to hold you here, I want toownthis. I want to keep you forever, right here.

“Don’t fucking stop,” I growl.

I lose myself in the feeling right as it disappears. Cold air rushes toward me and my eyes snap open.

I look over to see 3:33 a.m. glowing red on the cracked digital clock.

I sigh.

But I can stillfeelyou.

You might just be in my head. But I want to stop the world and stay with you. Crazy or not. You shouldn’t feel this real. You shouldn’t feel like mine. But you do.

I hate it. I hate how badly my body wants you—how I react oninstinct. I hate that I want to fall back asleep. But these moments… They are the only thing that feels good anymore.

I roll out of bed and sluggishly tug on my jeans. My eyes are heavy, my arms not wanting to cooperate as I drag a shirt over my head.

I’ve got to make up ground if I’m going to catch him, so I head out, ignoring the glare I receive from an old man with his gut out, beer in hand.

The front office reeks of stale air and burnt coffee, though it looks like someone just made a fresh pot. Thank fuck.

I drop my keys at the front desk and make a beeline for where a dusty coffee maker hums next to a sad selection of cereal and granola bars. I pour myself a to-go cup, scalding and bitter, then head out to the truck.

Hours later, Primm greets me like a forgotten dream. Dusty casinos slump on the horizon, their neon signs flickering like they’re too tired to lie anymore.

If I were a desperate man, running from someone like me… where would I hide?

I notice a small bar and grill still open with a sign readingThe Tavern. Perfect. I quickly pull in. The place is pretty packed, but I could go for a drink.

I park and grab my leather jacket from the back seat, pulling it on. The building is small and run-down. An outdoor patio hosts a group of women loudly cheering on a young woman with a little twenty-one sash over her chest.

Inside it is.

Loud hip-hop music blares through the speakers and people on the dance floor grind up against each other.

Music-themed decor is scattered over wooden, cabin-like walls. On my right, people fill pool tables and play darts. The roar of chatter almost overwhelms my senses.

I avoid eye contact as I look for an empty seat. The bar wrapsaround in a massive U-shape, and people group together, chatting with one another while they wait for their drinks.

My eyes drift to the side in annoyance as I approach a seat. My luck improves when three douchey-looking guys get their drinks and toast then walk away together, heading up the stairs. I quickly take the seat one of them was occupying.