Page 8 of Hunt Me (The Skulls #1)

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Ruaridh

T he absolute nerve of this body of mischief. Not only has she acted like a yo-yo. One second all mouth and sass, then the next little miss shy and innocent. But she has now taken my mask and bolted.

Then, because that wasn ’ t enough she had to go and put the damn thing on. And worst of all she looks good in it.

Too fucking good.

What did I do in return? Stand there like an dafty.

There was nothing I could think of doing, though. The only thing running through my head was to rip her clothes off, everything but the mask, and fuck her here out in the open.

Whatever expression I had on my face at the time must have spooked her. It was evident by the way she clutched at her chest and her wide doe eyes screamed run when she stared back at me.

It felt as if she had been looking straight into my soul.

Now?

Now, she ’ s running from me. Like she ignored everything I said earlier. Fuck knows what she thinks she ’ s doing. Probably up there, in the old museum running for her life. But she can never escape me.

We Skulls don ’ t have a reputation for being puppies and we aren ’ t known for being forgiving. She ’ s probably heard all types of shit about us. About what we are, what we do to those who cross us.

She ’ ll be scared shitless now.

She should be.

That burning hormonal mind I seemed to have developed when I first saw her has returned. Only this time, what is going through my mind is nowhere near as innocent as it was earlier.

I bare my teeth as I walk up the stairs and into the red sandstone building — images of what I will do to my little deer when I catch her flashing through my mind.

I will catch her, and when I do, I ’ ll never let her go.

She is never getting away now I ’ ve had her in my sight.

I am the hunter and she is my prey.

I don ’ t bother to make my movements light. Nor do I bother to avoid the broken glass scattered at the entrance. She should know I ’ m coming. At least then she ’ ll never wonder if I ’ ll give up just like that.

I ’ m a man obsessed.

And I will make her regret ever considering running from me.

The building she ran through is reasonably intact, with only minor signs of being broken into by the smashed glass at the entrance. The furniture surfaces are layered with hard dust, and years of unoccupancy are evident.

It ’ s easy to forget how much we disturb our surroundings when we pass through.

The buildings we built to depend on us and when we are gone, oh how quickly they crumble.

They wither. Not nature though — that didn ’ t wait long until it began to take back its land.

Cracks in the structure give way to roots, plants taking charge and erasing the destruction we caused.

Sometimes I wonder if the world is worse the way it is now or if it has done us a favour stripping back all the bullshit. The virus pulled back the curtains that allowed the truly evil to hide, exposing them plain as day.

My little deer wasn ’ t smart enough to think of the dust. To predict how it would expose her hurried steps and the imprints her clammy hands would leave on the doors she has flown open in her escape.

I head for the double doors that her footsteps lead to, stopping to trace the outline of her fingertips against the wooden frame.

Inside the stone work flooring is eery as it leads to the grand opening of the middle hallway.

Stood old and proud at the front of the concert hall is the organ.

I can almost hear it ’ s haunting symphony from when I ’ d first entered these double doors as a wee boy.

That boy died seven years ago and a monster was born instead.

Patches of dust have gathered on the stones surface and I grin as I inspect the markings my little deer has left in her attempts to flee.

Callouses brush my lips as I cup my hands to project my voice. ‘Better run, little deer. I always love a good hunt.’

The sound of her steps faltering rings out, and a shriek comes from the gallery to the left. I grin, following the sound of her quickening footsteps.

The scent of her fear permeates the air, fuelling my hunger to find her.

She has no idea what she had started when she called down to me in the sewers, but one thing’s for sure: I am going to finish it.

There is nowhere she can run that I will not follow, and there is no limit on how far I will go to make sure she is mine.

I follow the patches of disturbed dust through into an art section.

Straight across from me, illuminated by the full moon that peaks between the shut blinds, is a bearded man looking skyward.

He clutches a phone in his lap, but his gaze is not focused on the screen.

Instead, he looks to something more horrifying, hidden from my view.

The biggest monster is always the one you cannot see. The one out of sight to others but clear as day to your imagination.

My little deer’s imagination must be running wild right now. The need to know what could be running through that incredible mind of hers fuels me on.

She will be thinking of me; I know that for certain, but what else? How long does she want me to wait before I catch her? How far does she want me to take this game we keep playing?

I round each partitioning but have no luck in my hunt for her. She is more devious than I thought, her tracks spinning in circles and overlapping to confuse me.

I’m not easily fooled.

The room stands empty, all but me and forgotten artists standing still in time. Only my mischievous little deer has resurrected us — brought us out of hiding and back to life.

My chest thrums with anticipation as I walk through the archway into the next room.

A skylight above illuminates the room more than the one I just exited from, and I use the extra lighting to look around.

There is an eeriness to this room that the last did not have.

Stuffed animals stand tall behind glass cages as if being trapped during their years alive were not enough.

They have to suffer for all of eternity behind invisible walls.

My little deer’s markings on the floor are more clumsy ahead of me, and I follow, intrigued at what game she is playing this time. The dust is dry on my fingertip and I avoid the splattering of mud next to it, unsure of why she intentionally made a mess. I stand to look around.

The back of my head knocks something solid, and I bolt backwards, hands raised in a defensive stance.

My body tenses as I take in a stuffed bear's outstretched claws and sharp teeth, his eyes looking directly at me.

Poor guy has been stuffed in a fighting stance for the rest of his existence, and people wondered why humans were the worst creatures to walk the earth.

I think back to my little deer’s earlier scream and grin. Did she stumble into the big bad bear and get a fright? Maybe that is why her markings are messier than her calculated ones next door.

She’s scared.

I’m hunting her and she’s scared.

I breathe deeply, feeling I can scent her in the air, taking sick satisfaction in her fear.

Various objects are on display. From where I am standing right now, they are mainly stuffed animals, but in the centre, a dozen marble heads stand on top of boxes made for display.

With the evening light, they look sinister, the eyeless stone watching my movements as I scan for any sign of my little deer.

To my luck, I spot her next to one of the statues, one that ironically seems to be looking directly at her as if it was made to give away her hiding spot.

I don’t make a move to go to her; I watch, waiting for her next move.

Her eyes are wide open, searching the grand room, but she doesn’t see me. The bear hiding most of my body from her. Her gaze lingers in my direction as if sensing the danger it holds. She must put the feeling down to her earlier fright as she shakes her head and creeps towards the grand staircase.

I wait, not wanting to move too soon in case I spook her into staying on this floor.

Once she is halfway up, stepping around the collection of buckets placed years ago to catch leaking water, I begin to step out from the shadows, standing in the centre of the marble heads facing her fleeing body.

‘Hello, little deer.’ I say, my tone low.

She spins around and immediately reels backwards. I know I’m scary but that was not the reaction I expected.

Her gaze does not come to me though. Instead, she looks straight ahead, above me, and I follow her line of sight.

Extending from the ceiling are dozens of floating heads, each one with a different facial expression.

Most of them are high up, but a few have dropped lower, extending from a section of the ceiling that has caved in, causing them to fall close enough that she can reach.

My little deer scrambles back, terror etched behind the mask. My mask.

I begin to laugh manically, and her eyes finally fall to me.

Her expression changes, but I’m not sure how. It’s still one of fear, but something shifts in her eyes, and it has me longing to get to her.

She turns from where she had fallen on her arse, and using the strength of her arms, she scurries up the remainder of the stonework steps.

I sprint after her, taking two steps at a time, and round the corner, seeing her running down the balcony that overlooks the ground level we just came from.

My little deer tries to run as fast as she can, her arms pumping at her sides, but she isn’t fast enough, and we cross into the same section I know to be where the organ stays, a haunting presence watching from the head of the balcony.

My hand reaches out, grasping her by the collar. Our bodies slam into the cold stone of the balcony as I tip her over the edge.

She screams, the symphony of her fear ringing out around us.

I press into her ass as I bring my mouth to where her ear will be beneath my mask. ‘I told you I would catch you.’

‘You’re a psycho,’ she pants, but I don’t miss the way her fighting causes her ass to grind against the front of my trousers.

I groan.

Her body goes ridged in response, and the only sound is our panting breaths as we stay like this, both waiting for the other's next move. Then she does something I don’t anticipate. She arches her back, causing her pert ass to push further into me in the process.

I grip her neck, bringing my other hand down to grip her hip as I flip her around and rip the mask from her head, allowing it to flutter over the edge and drop down to the lower levels floor.

My little deer’s cheeks are flushed, and a thin layer of sweat coats her skin, creating a perfect glow in the nighttime light. Fuck she looks perfect. The way her parted lips allow for her panted breaths, the warm air fanning across my lips.

I look to take in her expression, but all I find is her gaze glued to my mouth. Her chest rises in sync with my own as I lean us further into the balcony, the grip on her neck steadying her as I tip her further over the edge.

She gasps, looking into my eyes, but instead of looking away, she meets me, her gaze equally satanic as she silently challenges me.

I see you and all your mischief, baby.

I slide a palm behind her, cupping her ass, and she lifts her thigh to wrap around my leg, giving me perfect access.

‘Tell me to stop,’ I whisper into her parted lips.

Her breath is hot against my lips as she answers, her gaze glued to mine.

‘I can’t.’