Page 11 of Hunt Me (The Skulls #1)
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Fauna
I t feels as if my world is crashing down as Ruaridh’s words ring through my ears.
Further North has always been our plan, but the urgency of it is higher now that Isla is pregnant. We don’t know how long she has left until the baby comes.
It feels like a ball is lodged in my throat.
I want to scream, to cry but I can’t. Not with this Skull sat watching my every move. I settle on a gulp of whiskey, this one significantly bigger than my last, as I welcome the burning liquid to travel through my body.
‘You’re upset,’ he states.
I suppress an eye roll at him stating the obvious. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together and conclude that I’m on the verge of a breakdown. My vision begins to blur, and I am overwhelmed with frustration.
I don’t know how to help the girls and that realisation stabs me in the chest.
‘I’m—’
I cut him off by throwing the whiskey bottle at the wall behind his head. Unable to focus on any damage I may have done I try to catch my breath, but my body won't let me.
Ruaridh’s large frame blurs in front of me, and I’m too numb to care if it’s in a threatening sort of way. Maybe pain will make me focus and hone my brain into survival instead of this pathetic panic that will do nothing but get those I love most killed.
‘In through your nose,’ I realise he’s hunched over to my eye level acting out his words for me to follow. ‘Out through your mouth.’
What he’s doing is so unexpected I pause and watch. The Skull, who must be at least six-foot-four, is doing breathing exercises with me.
‘Come on, Fauna.’ His voice is gentle, and all it does is make the seed of suspicion that has always been inside of my stomach grow.
Ruaridh’s movements are well practised as he counts his breaths in with one hand. Once he gets to four, he holds and then whooshes a large breath out, fanning across my face as he exhales through parted lips.
I don’t repeat his motions.
He lets out a sound like a growl. ‘Stop being a little bitch and breath for fucks sake.’
My fury bubbles up and I snarl at him as my lungs release and fill with air. ‘Fuck you.’
He smiles wide, showing his white teeth. ‘There she is. Now,’ Ruaridh grabs my hand, pulling me to follow him.
‘What?’ I splutter trying to dig my heels in to stop him, but it only causes him to tug harder.
This Skull is insufferable.
Our steps ring out as we descend the spiral staircase, and I make an effort for mine to be distinguishable from his.
Ruaridh doesn’t stop our fast pace as he rounds us to the other side of the building, the one he checked earlier. The stonework flooring is checkered white and black beneath our feet, and in patches where there is less dust, the moonlight above reflects beautifully against them.
We round an archway, and he brings me to a halt in front of a display of our galaxy.
If this dick head expects me to do some connecting with my star sign bullshit, I’ll stab him. I love the night's sky as much as the next person, but I am not in the mood for some horoscope shit about how everything in my life is part of a greater plan.
Ruaridh leaps over the display barriers, which is surprisingly effortless for someone so big, and begins snapping off each planet from where they circle the sun.
I watch not sure if I want to ask what he is doing. He’s kind of crazy. Maybe even crazier than me.
First, poor little Pluto gets shoved into his cargo pocket, the largest one on his thigh.
His quads already strain the fabric, but the pocket stretch accommodates the small planets size.
Then goes Uranus, Saturn and Neptune. The ripping of velcro sounds out as he opens his left thigh pocket and secures Jupiter, Mars, Venus and Mercury.
Ruaridh doesn’t pocket Earth though, he keeps that annoyance of a planet in his hand as he strides over to where there is a small version of our moon and slots her into his back pocket.
I step aside as he vaults back over the display barrier and lands directly in front of me. I raise my chin, making sure to master a look of disdain as I look up at him.
It doesn’t faze him and I didn’t expect that it would. Afterall he has chased after me twice now and I liked it — something I will never admit aloud.
Ruaridh does not give me any information, not even a hint of what he is up to, as he grips my shoulders, spins me back around to the grand archway and guides me back out into the open balcony that looms over the grand entrance of the museum.
My steps squeak to a halt as his grip squeezes my shoulders.
His hard chest brushes against my back and I suck in a gulp of air at the contact.
The feeling so much like when he had pinned me to the stone balcony as he caught me.
Distracted by the memory, I don’t realise he has unsheathed my bat and is pressing it into the palm of my hand, silently encouraging me to take it.
I comply, securing each finger's grip around the handle as I scrunch my brows.
Ruaridh smirks, the corner of his lips tipping up as his eyes dance with mischief and he begins to walk backwards.
My head shakes. I can’t figure out what he is up to.
He winks right at me and heat rushes to my cheeks.
‘You ready, mischief?’ Ruaridh shouts towards me, throwing the Earth in the air and then setting up looking like he is about to…
I swing my bat, on instinct realising that he has just hurled a planet at me, and thankfully, due to years of practice with this thing, I connect with it.
The sound of the metal sphere colliding with the wood of my weapon rings out.
Ruaridh drops to the floor as I send the Earth straight back to him, narrowly missing his head.
I bark out a laugh, my body relaxing and my chest instantly feeling lighter.
‘You nearly took ma head off!’
‘Good,’ I call back, readying myself for his next throw.
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My cheeks ache with how much I’m smiling. The remaining echoes of Pluto bouncing around the museum die out. Ruairidh is hooting as he holds me in the air, his arms secured around the back on my thighs as he bounces us in the air to celebrate.
After I hit the targeted archway on the other balcony, we couldn’t hold in our celebrations. He had run straight for me, crouched and thrown me into the air like I weighed nothing to him.
I haven’t laughed so much in years.
‘Should I add destroyer of planets to your list of nicknames?’ Ruaridh asks, the corner of his eyes crinkled in a smile.
He doesn’t look as menacing like this, his happiness giving him a softness I didn’t think a Skull possible of.
‘Stop with the pet names,’ I whine as he allows me to slowly slide down the front of his body from where he held me up in the air a second ago.
It’s not lost on me how unfortunately ironic his little deer name is.
He bops me on the nose, ‘but they suit you so well.’
‘Sure,’ I respond, putting some distance between us.
His smile falters momentarily as I move away, his hands stuck reaching for me as if he doesn’t want me to go. But he recovers quickly, clearing his throat. ‘Think we’ve earned that drink.’
When we head back up the spiralling staircase Ruaridh uncorks the new bottle offering me the first drink.
In another life, one before the apocalypse, I would cringe at the destruction I left when I threw the whiskey bottle. But that is not my life now, and I don’t concern myself with such superficial matters. From how Ruaridh hasn’t even taken a second glance in its direction he doesn’t seem to either.
The creak of a cupboard door opens, followed by the clinking of two glasses, and I see that he has taken out two small ones for us to drink out of. He lightly prys the bottle from my hands with a knowing wink and gets to pouring us each a glass.