Page 9 of Hunted By Fae

His jaws sags.

It’s something I’ve seen before.

Death on a face.

In all the films I’ve watched, all the portrayals of death on a screen, it’s never been entirely accurate. Deathslackensthe face. It doesn’t part the lips, the jaw slips aside, the mouth hangs open.

It is always ghastly.

A violent shudder wracks me.

Tesni’s breathy question comes from behind, “What?” The rustle of her jeans and crunch of dirt beneath her boots, it tells me she’s inching closer before her next words are a warm breath on my shoulder, “What is it?”

Words are trapped in my throat, a ball that’s lodged and thumping with the beats of my heart. I swallow, thick, but it does nothing to dislodge the lump.

I just stare at his face.

A familiar one.

The same guy who was pawing at Tesni on the hood of the truck.

Tesni’s boots are soft on the dirt as she pushes onto her toes to look over my shoulder, and down at the lump just an inch or two from the toes of my boots.

The cut of her breath is sharp, a gasp that’s too short, too harsh.

She sees him.

Recognises him, even in the slackness of his face, his hanging jaw and mangled limbs.

I flinch as her touch grazes my wrist.

I blink at her, at her stunned freckled face, as her hand forms a grip on my wrist.

The sharp, hollow gleam of her stare spears down at the man. Blue eyes, pale like crushed glass, flicker with the flutter of her long lashes—and she watches, transfixed, motionless, as the dust settles over him.

Again, her lashes flutter, then her gaze slides to the source of a wheezing sound, something that sounds so close to a moan, but one that’s losing its power.

I trace her stare.

Like this guy at my boots, the one over there is mangled.

Only this man is older, larger, stronger.

And he’s still alive.

Grip on my wrist, tight like a shackle, Tesni draws me closer to him. Her steps are uneasy, nervous, her shoulders set as firm as mine, but she approaches him like he might spook—or she might.

And I am in a daze.

I blink, I see death.

I breathe, I taste blood.

I listen, I hear moans.

I follow Tesni, and I see the veil parting for this man.

His breaths draw through him like a serrated knife, gargling at the end, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth.