Page 22 of Hunt Me (The Skulls #1)

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Fauna

T he sound of metal on metal has become a sense of comfort for me in the past few years.

Not the type that is associated with weapons, not the sound of a knife fight or of a bar clinking off of something in attempts to scare others.

What I ’ m on about is the beautiful sound of a can opening. It is music to my ears.

Despite all the times I ’ d heard that type of metal on metal and the terror that came with it, I still managed to hold out a positive attitude when it came to something so simple.

Something as simple as a metal spoon clinking against a tin can has a level of anxiety in me that is soothing. It ’ s as if my soul registers that I ’ ve done it. I ’ ve fed them again.

Only this time, it feels different.

This time, I ’ m filled with the undeniable satisfaction of being full myself.

The fullest I ’ ve felt in years, maybe even before the world went to shit.

Ruaridh kept supplying me with beans, to the point where when he brought the most recent tin out, I stopped him from giving it to me and made sure he ate some himself.

Usually, I wouldn ’ t be so selfish and gobble down so much before I made sure others had eaten. Normally, I ’ d be the last to eat, making sure others ate before me, but something about this situation made me feel... free. Free to put my needs first and not have the burden of responsibility.

This time, it was like I was the one being looked after, and not only did it feel like they knew exactly how much they could afford to let me eat. I trusted them to make that decision.

I realised I was right once I ’ d had my fill and watched Ruaridh and Vish dig into their own.

Their separate tins, one each.

They must have so much food if this is what they are eating like on the road.

When Ruaridh had said he could get rid of it, something in me had snapped.

I ’ d been so stunned at the start, unsure of what to do or how to react to being offered so much food.

The girls and I would share one of these between three of us.

But as soon as it was suggested that it be taken away, I ’ d snapped out of it all and came to my senses.

Now I can feel my eyes drooping, sleepy with my overindulgence. I try to smother my yawn, but it doesn ’ t work, and Ruaridh notices straight away.

‘ Here, ’ he says, moving across from where he is sat to get closer to me.

I blink up at him now that he is closer, and a soft blanket is placed across my shoulders. Heat prickles inside of me, causing me to feel all kinds of warmth from Ruaridh ’ s kindness.

Why would a Skull, a supposed group of the worst type of survivors there is, people with a notorious reputation for violence and suffering, be taking care of me, a stranger?

‘ Your top is damp from your hair, ’ Ruaridh states as he cocoons me inside the blanket.

Shoulders being damp had not even come to mind while I was filling my stomach, but now that he ’ s mentioned it, I am feeling slightly shivery.

The air remains cool as the season transitions.

It has been getting warmer the further we move away from winter, but it ’ s still spring in Scotland, and that ’ s no summer in Spain.

Not that I would know what that feels like.

I remember my parents would talk about going on holiday when they had managed to save up enough money for us to go. They ’ d said they were almost there with it, that we would be able to go in the summer. That summer never came.

I ’ d give up everything if it meant I could see them again.

My damp hair is pulled from my face, and the sensation of something running through my strands has my mind coming to a standstill.

The distinct feeling of a wide-toothed comb slipping through my mostly untangled hair is soothing.

And the body of muscle I ’ ve apparently decided to lean into at some point is responsible for the feeling.

Ruaridh, a big bad Skull, is brushing my hair.

Fuck the apocalypse I think the worlds ending all over again. Either that or I ’ ve well and truly gone completely insane, and I ’ ve started dreaming about masked men brushing my hair and feeding me beans.

The worlds all types of crazy but that would be a new one, even for me.

I try to hold off, not to give in to the feeling of comfort, but it ’ s been a while since I ’ ve ever felt safe, let alone pampered.

The way to my heart is clearly a tin of sausage and beans, a big blanket, and my hair being played with. Oh, and an orgasm, I guess.

The thought of the shower earlier has me squirming slightly, and instead of thinking there is something wrong or that I am uncomfortable, Ruaridh takes it as some plea to snuggle up onto his lap.

I must be getting delirious with being overfed because I let him manoeuvre me into what he must decide to be a comfortable position.

Him leaning his back against the wall with me curled against him.

I can ’ t make out what Ruaridh says, just his gentle mumbles, and I lean into his rumbling chest, listening as the sound of Vish getting up and walking away soothes my sluggish mind.

My tiredness takes over as my eyelids finally droop shut, and I drift off to sleep, feeling the most comforted I have since my parents passed.

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‘ She ’ s half starved. What have you been doing letting her go without like that? ’

Two half hushed, but clearly pissed off voices draw me away from my slumber. The girls must be arguing about some shit. I ’ m too comfortable right now to care; they can sort it out between them.

‘ You better watch what yer saying, ya fud. You ’ re damn lucky that I don ’ t want to move her to come knock you out you stupid fucker. Do you think I ’ m that fucked up that I would let her starve whilst we have everything that we do at the stadium. You think that bad of me, Vish? ’

I freeze.

Well, freeze as much as a half-asleep woman can, but I do anyway, trying not to give away that I am now awake and remembering what company I am with.

Two Skulls.

There is an uncanny theme with me in this city: waking up in a Skull's arms, and I ’ m not approving of my own actions pre-falling asleep. Why do I put myself in such, albeit cosy, yet risky positions? And now there are two of them arguing right now.

‘ Can you blame me? I walk in on you two, then find that she ’ s starving, and I ’ m the—’

‘ Watch it, ’ Ruaridh barks louder now. His hold around me tightens, not in a painful way but as if he is reminding himself that I ’ m here. Like he is scared I will disappear.

They both fall silent for a moment, and I try my hardest to even out my breathing, trying to replicate the motions of being asleep. Something I ’ d gotten good at when I was back at the army camp, where they'd patrol between our rooms.

Cool air drifts onto my cheek as a strand of hair I hadn ’ t realised was there is brushed away and tucked behind my ear. The dampness of my hair as I fell asleep no longer there.

How long have I been asleep?

Too damn long you bloody idiot. I bet the girls are starting to get worried now.

If it has been two whole nights out, they are likely to send someone out looking for me, but they will be looking in the entirely wrong place — a place that might well be crawling with those weirdos we had come across in the sewers.

Fear creeps up my spine.

‘ Look I don ’ t think you ’ re a pure shite person, you know I don ’ t and never would. But what's going on here, Ruaridh?’

Ruaridh sighs as he stroke a finger across my cheek.

‘ We…’ he pauses as if weighing up the right words, ‘ came across each other up at one of the storage units, the one that hadn ’ t been checked since before winter. The floor caved in, and we went with it, straight into the sewers. ’

‘ That ’ s pure boufin. ’ Vish ’ s voice has a grimace to it.

Ruaridh grunts in agreement, then continues.

‘ Aye, we stunk, but whilst down there, we came across some of the cannibals, so we got turned around whilst we were down there and ended up in the East End somewhere. Took a while for me to figure out exactly how far away from here we were but got here in the end. ’

‘ How long have yous been oot together? ’ Vish asks.

‘ It was midday yesterday when we went through the storage unit. ’

I sigh with relief, thank fuck it's not been that long that I have been asleep. I can still get back and find—

‘ Is it that much of a relief? ’ Ruaridh ’ s teasing tone interrupts my thoughts, and this time, I definitely freeze. ‘ Should I be worried, little deer? ’

I freeze to the point where I wonder if my blood has listened to my plea not to move a muscle and has simply halted its rushing around my body too.

Ruaridh ’ s torso leans into my back and I ’ d be a liar if it didn ’ t feel warm and comforting. But then the way his hand gently pulls my head to the side so that he can have a complete look at my not-so-sleeping face has a rush of fear running through me.

‘ Do you think we ’ re going to tell you off for eavesdropping, Fauna? ’ Thankfully the lightness in his voice still there.

‘ Mm, ’ I mumble.

Ruaridh and Vish both laugh.

I ’ m manoeuvred in the monstrous Skull's arms so that I am sitting up, looking at Vish but still lying on Ruaridh ’ s lap. My arms are fully wedged to my sides thanks to the cocoon blanket I am inside and with the new position my right thigh and ass cheek start to tingle.

Pins and needles begin searing down my right side. I groan with pain as it feels like thousands of little needles are stabbing through my skin. I try to shake it out but the stupid cocoon of a blanket does not let me move more than an inch.

‘ You alright there? ’ Vish asks, amusement plastered across his glowing features.

I shake my head, grimacing.

‘ Yer girl is aff er nut, Ru, ’ he smiles at the man behind me. His eyes are kind and playful. ‘ Looks like she ’ s experiencing some weird exorcism moment which is weird because neither of us are religious never mind a fucking priest. ’

‘ The fuck you on about, ’ Ruaridh barks as he practically flips me like a sausage, rolling me so that I ’ m now facing him.

Great, now I have pins and needles, and I feel dizzy. He ’ s one movement away from a large portion of sausage and beans being thrown up on his face if he ’ s not careful. Like, really, what is wrong with this man throwing me around like I ’ m one of his Barbie dolls?

‘ What ’ s wrong? ’ Ruaridh demands, wild eyes searching my face for any clues.

The only clue this brute of a man can get out of me is that I ’ m well and truly pissed off. It ’ s obvious by the startled look that battles with his worried expression.

I take a sick sort of satisfaction in knowing that I can cause such a reaction with a little death glare from me. My parents used to say that the term ‘ if looks could kill ’ could be defined by my pissed off face and I bet they are proud of me wherever they are watching from.

As long as they have only just started watching right now, that is.

I send out a spiritual apology to wherever they are — something I ’ ve found myself doing over the years. This one probably won ’ t be the last time either, but what are kids for? A sprinkle of disappointment on top of a heap of pride is what being a parent is all about, right?

‘ Wha— what did I do? ’ Ruaridh asks, a pleading look in his eyes as one of his hands weirdly pats the back of my head.

‘ What brought you up? A fucking toddler? For one. Do. Not. Pat. Me. I ’ m not a fucking dog so no need for the patting the back of my head like I ’ m your pet.

‘ Two. Why are you flipping me around like one of your toys? You know how rude that shit is not to mention how nauseous I feel after the last flip.

‘ And Three. Unwrap this blanket right now! This burrito you've made has all sorts of pins and needles shooting through places I forgot existed. ’

My chest is heaving, but I feel good. Pleasantly satisfied with myself now that I ’ ve gotten that off my chest.

Ruaridh gently begins to unwrap the blanket, each one of his movements cautious as if he ’ s trying not to poke the bear.

The bear being me.

‘ I ’ m sorry, I didn ’ t…’ Ruaridh stumbles over his words and if I didn ’ t know any better I ’ d think he was kind of adorable. If he weren ’ t this massive monster of a man with tattoos that could be depictions of hell etched across every muscle.

But I don ’ t care about any apologies right now. Right now my legs feel like they are crawling off of me one skin cell at a time.

‘ Arghhh, ’ I complain patting at my pins and needles.

‘ Want me to shake them out? ’ Vish asks, but I ’ m too concentrated on myself to see who exactly he ’ s asking.

Ruaridh must have answered because Vish is grabbing a hold of my right ankle, using it to shake out my entire leg for me.

Blood must rush to my foot because a spike of pain comes then within what feels like minutes, but in reality, it is only a few seconds the needles subside, replaced by numb tingling.

‘ Is my leg okay? ’ I ask, not ready to look for myself. ‘ My skin hasn ’ t run away, has it? ’

‘ Yeh, your girl is a nutter, ’ Vish laughs as he stands up and out of reach from Ruaridh ’ s attacks. ‘ She ’ ll fit right in. ’