Page 6 of Hunt Me (The Skulls #1)

??

Ruaridh

O nce I get to my feet and help the body of mischief I have acquired to hers, I turn bathing in the evening sunlight.

I don’t recognise where we are.

The rubble that litters the streets represents the majority of the city, and these particular damaged buildings are not familiar.

At this point I’d of thought I would know each street in the city like the back of my hand by now but with buildings falling down all of the time, especially at this time of the year when the weather is shit — a constant battering of wind, rain and snow — streets are often unrecognisable.

‘I don’t think we’re in Maryhill anymore,’ I announce, turning to my right.

Mischief is not next to me like she was a second ago, and instead, she has decided to wander off. Her short legs storm down the broken street as she explores. It’s cute that she’s trying to put distance between us.

My little deer has me transfixed on her body and how she carries herself.

Her steps are strong and confident as she moves, but none of that takes away from the way her hips sway with each angry step.

The splatters of her victim's blood on her trouser leg, matching the red on her bat, only makes her that much sexier.

I bite my knuckle relishing in the distraction of the sting of my teeth against my skin. Fuck what did I ever do to deserve such a woman.

I remember how my heart pounded in my ears as I thought that high-pitched scream was hers.

God how wrong I was. Air fans inside my mask as I quietly chuckle remembering the look of malice on her face as she lifted her bat from where it was embedded in that rat's crotch. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything better and I’ve definitely not seen anything more attractive.

Did I get a little hard over my mischievous deer popping his balls?

Yes.

Am I sick in the head?

Clearly.

Will I ever let her go now?

Never.

‘Hey! Where are you going?’ I shout, breaking into a light jog after her.

She doesn’t look back. Doesn’t even acknowledge me at all and that only fuels my interest.

I catch up to her hand reaching out to touch her arm.

She swings on me and a small knife presses into my groin.

I whistle. ‘You have a thing for messing with guys' balls, don’t you,’ I lean towards her relishing in the pressure from the knife.

‘We’re out now so stop following me,’ she sneers.

Her hazel eyes glow with fight and I get lost in their depths. Mischief applies more pressure with her blade pulling my attention back to our interaction.

What did she say again?

‘Leave. Me. Alone.’ She spits reading my confused thoughts.

This time the tip of her blade breaks through my trouser leg and the cool edge of the blade pricks at the skin of my upper thigh.

I could snatch it out of her hand. My fingers twitch to do just that as I remember how her fist felt so small covered by my own.

Her soft face is framed through the holes of my mask again, allowing me to focus on all the details I missed earlier in the tunnels.

Her eyes are so strikingly beautiful, they’d been one of the first things I’d noticed, but now the dark bags below them look worse, causing her eyes to look sunken with exhaustion.

Little deer might act on the outside like she is fine, but her tatted hair and worn down clothes say otherwise.

Something about seeing the signs that she is struggling has my chest aching in a way it's never done before.

And it has me doing something irrational for the second time today.

I take her hand — the one she currently holds a knife dangerously close to my crotch – and hold it in my own, pulling myself in close to her.

‘Now there’s no need to hurt the merchandise. I’m sure there are more…’ I tilt my head, ‘interesting things you could do than stabbing at my crotch.’

She scoffs. Her answer comes in her trying to apply more pressure with the blade but my grip holds strong.

‘Fine, fine.’ I move back releasing her and hold my hands in the air, ‘but I’m not leaving you. I bet you have no idea where you are.’

I don’t know where I am so I bet my life she has no idea either.

Her small boots shift backwards, but she doesn’t loosen her hold on the blade, which is still pressed to my leg. And I cross my arms in front of me, ignoring the wetness running down my leg, right from where she has the blade pressed against me.

When the virus became out of control and riots were happening in major cities, they left a mess.

A fucking big one. This looks like one of the places.

Sides of buildings crumbling to pieces with whatever has been left over from the fires people had started leave the perfect dystopian picture ahead of us.

I look at my little deer. She doesn’t seem phased by the sight but that doesn’t surprise me since the mess isn’t exclusive to Glasgow.

I wonder what she’s seen over the years, but I stop myself from thinking too much about it as a slight pain begins in my chest. The way she acts and holds herself shows she knows how to fit into this world.

How to survive, something I’m not sure if I should be proud or sad about.

The pain in my chest doesn’t subside as I think about the weather this past winter and how cold she must have been.

Scottish winters were never known for being particularly pleasant, but they feel like they’ve gotten worse since the virus, this one just past being one of the worst. At the stadium, we had struggled to keep warm, and that was a community of us.

How did she survive the winter?

I’m about to ask her when shouts come from the hole behind us, back where we climbed out of the sewers. The noise brings my worried thoughts to a screeching halt, and I look at the woman standing in front of me. Silently, I plead with her to trust me.

‘Well?’

She looks back to the opening, pressing her lips together and pulling them back between her teeth.

She looks at me, and I feel myself holding my breath.

As if a look of fuck it crosses her face she nods.

This is going to be fun.

??

This fucking woman.

We’ve spent several hours walking through the streets as the sky turned orange. Running through the tunnels fast tracked us to an area hours away from where we’d first fallen through into the sewers.

Now I’m here chasing after this stubborn woman like an obsessed teenager and she won’t fucking listen. Won’t do anything I tell her to. She won’t even acknowledge when I speak half the time.

She is driving me crazy.

It’s getting dark now, the sun long since beginning to set and dragging any amber tones down with it.

The moon is full and high surrounded by awakening stars, some brighter and bigger than others.

One of the benefits to living through an apocalypse like this is watching the stars return.

I remember seeing them creep back one by one like they were testing out the waters at the start, seeing if the lights would come back on and the pollution would return.

Then it never did. So the stars decided to stay, watching over us in our times of pain and suffering.

I’ve learnt my little deer enjoys watching the sky.

A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips whenever she looks skyward, and a look of contentment settles across her entire body for a moment before she realises and locks it away, schooling her emotions back to her standoffish self.

I’m not sure if it’s the moon she loves or the billions of twinkling stars out there but something inside me is begging to find out.

The moon would be the obvious answer. The way it reflects in her doe eyes makes it look like they are connected on some level. But her beauty is like the endless light of the stars above, radiating for all who care to watch.

‘Stop looking at me, you creep,’ she snaps as she catches me staring again. I can’t help the excitement that builds in my stomach when she talks to me.

‘Are you always this moody?’ I tease.

That fear she showed when falling into the sewer with me is long gone. Probably thanks to crushing that rat's balls and realising that I’m not about to skin her alive. Still I didn’t think she’d turn out like this . Completely unphased by me. Not a care in the world, only irritation.

I’ve been trying to think of ways to get her to like me for the past however many streets, but nothing has come to mind. The last time I tried to make conversation with a girl that wasn’t purely practical was back in secondary school for fucks sake.

‘We should stop. See if there’s anywhere to rest and wash up.’ I’m really scraping the barrel with my conversation skills here.

I’m practically begging on my knees with her at this point and it's borderline embarrassing. But all she does is stop and stare ahead. Not one bit convinced. I don’t even understand what has her so pissed off with me.

I did kick her a little harder than I’d intended back in the tunnel. But in my defence things were a wee bit tense and all, surely she knows I wasn’t trying to be a dick.

‘Look I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to, I just wanted you out—’ she cuts me off before I can finish as she violently swivels towards me waggling her finger.

‘No you look Mr fancy dress,’ she waves a finger at my mask. ‘You think I give a single shit about you kicking me down the tunnel? Well I don’t. And as you have seen I didn’t need your help anyway.’

She lifts an eyebrow waiting for my response but all my mind can focus on is how I am not Mr fucking fancy dress. I’m wearing a skull mask and have axes on my back for fucks sake. That is not fancy dress. That is some seriously scary shit.

And she needs to start taking me seriously. I have a reputation to uphold.

Biting down my irritation at her slating my appearance, I focus on her last statement.

‘That’s what your problem is? Did I wound your pride or something?’ I scoff, folding my arms across my chest.

We’re standing on another street, this one less damaged than the ones we travelled through earlier. There is no one but the full moon above to watch us.

‘Of course not. My ego isn’t as fragile as yours.’ She looks me up and down, a sneer across her face.

So that’s what this is all about.

‘Ahh little deer. I see.’ I grin under my mask.

She fancies me and, like yours, truly she has no idea how to flirt.

‘What?’

‘You’ve got a thing for the mask hmm?’ I motion at my face. ‘Don’t worry, baby. You’re not the first.’

I lean forwards, allowing our bodies to touch, and tip her chin upwards with my knuckle. I lift it to look directly into her hazel eyes, the reflection of the moon lit sky shining through them.

Her lips part in an o, and her soft palm travels up my torso to the back of my neck. She has to stretch to get there, pushing her body closer to mine, and a shiver of pleasure races through me.

I lean in.

So does she.

Then I feel her fist snatch at my mask ripping it back from my face. My momentary shock allows her to slam her forehead into the bridge of my nose and pain ricochets throughout my face.

‘What the fuck?’ I shout.

She steps back as I continue to curse, holding my bleeding nose.

Her laughter echoes across the night sky and I look up to find a shit-eating grin spread across her face.

Little Miss Mischief indeed.

A small splatter of my blood sits on her top lip from where she’d been too slow to move away from my busted nose. And the urge to swipe it off with my tongue builds. Of course, the mocking tone to her voice does nothing but spur on any fantasies I might have thought up when she speaks.

‘Didn’t know Skulls hired pretty boys.’