Page 7 of Hunt Me (The Skulls #1)

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Fauna

H e’s not what I expected, not at all in fact.

The Skulls are spoken about like some mad new race of animalistic humans, like they have mutations to give them special skills. Something that also makes them monsters.

Their actions show it. The way the man in front of me pulled out his axes, ready to cut down anyone in his way, showed it. So why hasn’t he done that to me? And more importantly, why did he come sprinting after me when he thought that scream was my own?

The look of hunger for violence was clear in his shining forest green eyes. He looked like murder incarnated.

If I wasn’t offended he assumed I couldn’t defend myself I'd probably swoon. But I can’t help but hold a grudge, I’m petty like that.

Plus it still baffles me that anyone left in this world sees a woman and assumes they are weak — do they not realise how brutal it is?

Anyone left alive is no push over, no matter how sweet and innocent they look.

Those who look weak should be watched closely because they usually surprise you the most.

Despite my irritation, I can’t help but notice how normal he looks without his mask. I don’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t a sharp jawline with a day's worth of stubble. And for fucks sake why does he look so good.

His mask hid him all right. Hid him all too well.

It dawns on me that the Skull before me is no monster. Not one in the typical sense anyway.

He stands as still as a statue, his chiselled physique adding to the stone-like look. High cheekbones and sinful lips, lips that are pressed together in annoyance.

Big guy is not happy.

‘Give me it back,’ he demands, voice rough and laced with anger.

His mask feels soft in my hand, entirely at odds with his ridged posture. The only rough part being the whites of the bones that are sewn onto the loose black fabric.

Like a red rag to a bull, I hold up the mask waving it around.

‘Here kitty,’ I make a kissing sound with my lips because I have a death wish.

Rage consumes his face, broad shoulders straightening to his full height as he towers over me.

I lean to my right, cocking my hip and tucking the mask into my side. Nibbling on my bottom lip in attempts to mask the grin I feel pulling at my lips, I stand my ground.

Why do you always have a death wish, Fauna?

‘I will not ask again,’ he growls.

Why is he asking? Surely the monster in him is itching to take it, I know he can. I’m quick, but I doubt I can outrun him and instead of that filling me with fear, it fills me with a completely different feeling, one I’m not familiar with.

I look down at the mask, now open in front of me.

‘It’s mine now. And you know… finders keepers and all,’ I quip goading him into reacting.

A calloused palm stretches between us, beckoning me to give over the mask.

‘Now.’

This time, I can’t stop the grin as I feel it overtake my face. The corners of my eyes scrunch with the motion.

He sees it too, his eyes narrowing further as he steps towards me.

I’m quick to skip backwards out of his grip and because I haven’t had this much adrenaline coursing through my veins in months I decide to shove the mask over my head.

The black fabric slides on with no issue and I giggle imagining how the big fucks head — a lot larger than my own — has helped with this task. Once on, I quickly adjust it so that the eye holes fall over my own, allowing me to see clearly and all I see is him.

All I smell is him.

Fuck all I feel is him with this thing on.

Earthy scents fill my senses instantly refreshing me — like when the sun comes out after the rain. It’s so… soothing and it feels painfully like home. Memories of when I used to run through the muddy fields with my parents, carefree as I jumped through grassy puddles.

A tightness closes around my chest making it feel impossibly tight. My hand pulls at the fabric of my shirt, and the neckline feels like it is choking me.

The forgotten Skull in front of me clears his throat and I look up, feeling my cheeks flaming hot. He saw whatever that was and for a second his eyes were somehow softer.

Not now though.

Now they are back to scowling daggers straight at me.

His hair adds to the severity of the glare. Short sides that lead down to intricate tattoos across the back of his neck and I assume beneath his hair. I can’t quite make out what they are at the angle I’m currently standing at.

I can see his fisted hands though. His thumb grazing against his scarred knuckles as he continues to watch me.

I’ve gone and done it now, there is no way I am backing out. So on that thought I do a little twirl pulling my arms up around me as I spin.

‘I look hot, I know. No need for jealousy, sweetie.’

He doesn’t respond but the unmistakable sound of his teeth grinding against each other fills the evening air.

I fidget on my feet. Heat clawing up my limbs.

‘Anyone ever tell you you’re a little creepy,’ I ask as my feet move backwards, my heart beating loud inside the mask.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t attempt to follow my steps backwards; he just stares. I don’t even see him blink.

Sweat begins to cling at my brow. Fuck this mask is stupidly warm, how does he not get sick of it. My body feels too warm too.

It’s hardly even spring what the hell is going on.

I inwardly curse Amelia and the echoes of her soft motherly voice lecturing me about the lingering winter colds.

Fuck winter colds I’m about to sweat to death in a Skull mask for fucks sake.

Despite my discomfort, I don’t allow my gaze to wander from the Skull’s, not for a second. The black outline of the eyeholes of the mask framing the deadly man in front of me heightens my readiness for fight or flight.

How has he managed to shift his features from an intriguing, handsome, although slightly rugged-looking guy to a psychotic killer is beyond me. And so is the way he looks at me, like I’m his next meal — nothing but a promise of punishment in his gaze and a satanic smirk across his lips.

He knows I’m scared. It’s like he can smell it.

Adrenaline-laced fear races through my blood, the pounding of my heart urging me on, different to before.

I fill my lungs with oxygen, and on my third deep inhalation, I turn and run. My steps are sure and fast as I bolt into the building ahead of me, running as quickly as I can from the killer who is now behind me.

The killer whose mask I wear and who smells distinctly like home.