Page 53 of Just One Bite
Chapter Forty-Three
Olivia
There’s no service on the island. I can’t tell if I’m extremely thankful or terrified. All I want to do is call my sisters. But it’s just one weekend, then I’m free to be back at home alone and sad all by myself.
I stare at the pamphlet in my hands that was handed to me as soon as we disembarked the ferry. We were then separated into groups: hunters and hunted.
As terrifying as it sounds, I was immediately ushered from Parker’s side to an area of women and men who might be the most welcoming people I’ve ever met.
All the girls love me here. Lots of them come from other schools I’ve never heard of, and they’re free from the Doxlothia bias. Though they know all about it.
I never thought I was the type to care about that sort of thing, but when it’s everyone staring and refusing to talk to you while you’re already so anxious your stomach is eating itself, it does start to sting.
But all the new people tell me how well I hide it, and from the outside looking in, I navigate it all with elegance and grace. If they only knew.
We get a goodie bag full of things for our stay in the hotel, including a T-shirt, socks, and toiletries.
I’ve never been to such a luxurious place before.
My room has a queen-size bed and a steam shower.
According to the pamphlet and our guide, tonight is the dinner and the welcome ceremony, Saturday afternoon is reserved for mingling, then The Hunt begins after sundown .
“Olivia! Stand next to me.” I follow the voice of a girl named Tara who has bright-green hair and silver eyes. “Look, you can see Parker from here.”
They don’t list the details of the welcome ceremony in the pamphlet, oddly enough, but after we check in to our rooms and drop off our things, we’re given the option to linger in the hotel until the ceremony, and it’s only the hunted mingling and getting drinks.
My plan was to stay secure in my room, but I was quite literally dragged into the lobby with a group of girls who wanted to hear all about me and Parker.
I have zero skills in that area. It almost reminds me of those slumber parties I saw on TV growing up, only we’re all over the age of twenty-one and sipping drinks.
Once the sun goes down, we’re taken to a garden area. It’s open-ended with sliding doors that lead back into the resort. All the hunters are gathered outside in one place in the center. The birds fly overheard, and there’s a soft breeze.
I take my place next to her. I do want to see Parker. He’s the only thing that’s familiar and safe.
“Wow. You’re a lucky woman.” Tara’s eyes sparkle as she eyes him.
They all think Parker is here for me. They tell me about their theories on why we’re both here.
Nothing could prepare me for the sheer number of people who know who I am.
They say my name like we’re friends. Some have even guessed right about the Secrecy Stone rumored to live at the edge of Languid Lake and my involvement in some type of blackmailing scheme.
It’s like my life is a soap opera to them.
Some storybook unfolding before their eyes, and they want to be the one to guess correctly.
It should be insulting, but it’s comforting to have people believe me for once.
And at the same time, unsettling to know how much strangers are thinking of me and piecing my life together.
They ask me about ballet too and tell me how amazed they were when they saw my leaked entry tapes.
Here, I’m not Olivia Osborne the Mastermind.
I’m Olivia, the ballerina destined to be with Parker Owens, who joined The Hunt to save his damsel.
I wish it were true. That sounds like the best-case scenario, but I’m afraid to let myself dwell on the possibility.
What if he really did come for someone else?
I like their stories. There’s comfort in how trivial it all sounds.
We stand in a clearing in the trees, and all the hunters are being instructed to kneel in the grass.
It’s a mix of men and women. Parker is shirtless and crouches to his knees, one leg at a time, while they run shiny silver liquid over his chest. It falls in ribbons over his pecks and down into the curves of his abs.
Our eyes meet. He can smell me.
“We honor a long-held mating tradition of The Hunt. May each of you find prosperity and the one your heart desires. Hold gaze with our moons and receive your place in the universe in acceptance of what will be.”
Howls erupt around me as Parker lifts his chin toward the sky.
No words come from his lips, but I see the change reflected in his eyes.
They glow yellow, and a deep howl rumbles from his chest. His shoulders stiffen, and veins grow and pop from his skin.
It’s lacing its way into every inch of his body by the second.
His canines grow, and his deafening howl radiates throughout my entire body.
I may not be able to detect what dominance feels like, but I see it in the faces of the crowd as mouths close and backs straighten.
The hairs on my arm prick up, and they move a cup in front of Parker’s face that’s filled with silver powder.
He breathes in, and all the glow runs out of his eyes until they’re pure black.
“Breathe in the new breath of your new reality. You are one with the moons.”
Parker’s body shakes, and his chest shimmers in the moonlight.
I let out a breath, and his attention snaps to me.
His eyes are midnight black, and he rises to his feet, nostrils flared and shoulders back.
I think he’s going to run toward me, but with the crack of his neck, his body begins to shift.
All I’ve ever seen are the pictures in my textbook, but this doesn’t compare.
He grows taller before my eyes as his chest fills and his shoulders broaden.
The hair bursts from his skin, and his forearms swell just before his hands grow larger and claws jut out.
His change springs more until the entire group is shifting, and we’re all being pushed inside the building.
Howling fills the garden. Just before I’m pushed through the door, I see him.
Standing still on two legs, Parker’s werewolf form towers above us, and he’s a few inches taller than the others.
He’s at least eight feet tall, with a long stout nose and rows of pointed teeth.
With glowing eyes locked on me, he licks his lips.
There’s a separation in the crowd, then I see all of him.
He still looks like a man in many ways, with strong muscle form.
I swear I can hear the word in my head. Mine.
The door shuts, closing me off from them, and their howls echo in the night .
“While they’re having their first run of the land, you may all prepare for the feast.”