Page 13 of Willing Prey

TEN

Claire

I wake to rancid, warm air blowing on my face. It smells like garbage, like the time one of my students left a slice of pepperoni pizza in her gym bag for two weeks. I’m scared to open my eyes. Whatever bacteria is being exhaled will probably give me conjunctivitis.

It has to be Shane; his weight is still on me. Catching our breath turned into a full-fledged nap. This scent is a stark contrast to the delicious mintiness from last time. I try to keep my face neutral, not wrinkling my nose the way I want to. It might be a medical condition.

Okay.

Be polite.

Don’t vomit from his dumpster breath.

One. Two. Three.

I open my eyes and swallow a scream. Investigating the ground inches from my face is a massive black bear. I can’t control my body. My hand jerks up to cover my mouth. The bear leaps back at my sudden movement, letting out an offended huff.

“Wh—” Shane starts to sit up. My other hand grips the back of his head, smashing his face into my right tit to silence him.

“Bear,” I hiss. “Big fucking bear.”

He cautiously rotates his head to look.

“It is a bear,” he whispers back, sounding stunned.

“Do you think I don’t know what a bear looks like?” I whisper-hiss.

“Don’t. Move.” Shane’s voice is low and calm, but his body is tense over mine.

The bear cocks its head at the sound, ears twitching.

Oh no.

If I reached out my arm, I could touch its paw.

Long, yellowed claws sink into the ground, their length making my stomach tighten.

Our options overrun my mind, frantic and conflicting.

Be quiet. Yell. Run. Freeze. Shut my eyes.

Keep them open. Shane said not to move, so I fight the instinct to put as much distance between the bear and myself as possible.

I stay frozen. Despite what Shane said, I feel his body moving.

With microscopic shifts, he eases both his legs to one side of mine, torso twisting so he doesn’t put his back toward the animal.

He’s moving closer to the bear, not away, and I have no idea what he’s thinking.

Tension radiates from his body everywhere we touch, as if he’s a giant rubber band stretched nearly to the breaking point.

Though his lower body shifted, Shane’s head is still over my chest, hovering above where it rested moments before.

I wonder if he can hear my heart trying to escape my rib cage.

The bear lowers its muzzle, inhaling hard as it steps closer.

Loose pieces of my hair flutter with its exhale.

Awareness coils in my stomach, dread’s tendrils slithering up my throat. I can’t breathe.

Oh god.

My face.

Specifically, my sunscreen, which smells better than any skin-care product has a right to. Sydney’s cat always tries to lick it off me.

Do bears lick?

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuc—

It lunges. I scream, jerking my head away and hands up to protect myself.

Shane’s moving over me, the blur of his hand connecting with the bear’s muzzle the last thing I see before pain explodes through my rib cage.

My brain shrieks, It bit me, oh fuck, it bit me as I roll a rotation and a half.

Shane shouts. The trees stop spinning. I’m on my stomach, trying to get my hands and knees beneath me while my lungs struggle to take a full breath.

Pressing up to all fours, I see the bear’s backside as it bolts into the bushes, and Shane dropping his arms.

Dazed, I rock back on my heels. When the hand I press to my aching side doesn’t come away with blood on it, I’m brave enough to lift my arm and contort my neck to look. There’s a large smudge of dirt on my skin and a red mark that looks like it will bruise, but no bite.

Did he kick me out of the way?

“You punched a bear,” I croak. “Who punches a bear?”

Clad in only black boxer briefs and boots, he’s staring at the brush where it vanished, clearly ready in case the bear returns. “It was more of a smack.”

“Ah, a smack. My mistake.” I let myself take a second to admire his ass, just in case the bear comes back to finish us off. “Well, thank you for not letting it eat my face.” I’m shivering now with some sort of delayed fear response, but I try to keep my voice light.

No big deal, just almost became bear food, that’s all.

He looks over his shoulder at me for a moment before his eyes return to the woods. “You have a nice face; it would be a shame if it got eaten.”

My startled brain can’t come up with a response, even as part of me is preening at the compliment.

Relax, he just said “nice face.”

Are compliments covered in the contract?

Still standing sentry, Shane is unaware of the mental chaos his comment has caused. “Sorry I kicked you. I was trying to get you out of the way in case it got pissed—”

“—when you punched it in the face,” I finish for him.

With a light chuckle, he finally looks away from the woods for longer than a heartbeat. “You okay?”

I give him a thumbs-up and immediately feel silly. Shane grins, his dimple distracting me from my mortification. He’s entirely too relaxed, considering we were seconds from a bear attack.

“How are you not freaking out right now?” I press myself up to my ass, looking for my leggings. Crawling over to them on my hands and knees feels awkward, but I’m so happy to be alive that looking silly is low on my list of concerns.

“I am on the inside.” He tilts his head to the side, cracking his neck. “Pretty sure that took ten years off my life.”

“I think I got a dozen new gray hairs,” I mutter. My underwear is MIA. Pulling on my leggings, I gesture at my backpack. “Your clothes are in there. I think the bear ate my underwear.”

Shane smiles, bigger this time, and that adorable, entirely out-of-place dimple throws me off-kilter again . I look away, not wanting him to see the way it makes me want to smile back reflexively.

He tugs his pants and shirt out of the bag. “Nice of you to leave me the briefs. Would have been a painful chase otherwise.”

I laugh at that. “I didn’t want to completely incapacitate you. That wouldn’t be very sporting.”

“Here.” He tosses me his shirt, already having slipped on his pants. “Lost yours somewhere during the chase. I’ll replace it. And the underwear.” His voice sounds muffled as I tug the shirt over my head. “I owe you leggings too. I’ll start a list.”

My good mood sobers slightly. We were lucky. I know bear attacks aren’t common, but we were sleeping. Naked and smelling like sex and sweat and all sorts of things a bear might want to taste.

Including sunscreen.

I shiver. The thought of walking all the way back through the woods makes me uneasy.

Checking my watch, I see we dozed for about twenty minutes, not including the bear showdown.

The sun will be setting in a half hour. The hike back will take far longer than that.

I brought a flashlight just in case, but I don’t want to be out here in the dark alone, not after seeing the bear.

As I’m weighing whether I want to ask if I can go with him or suck it up so I’m not a burden, Shane slings my backpack over his shoulder.

“You ready? The farther we can get before dark, the better.”

I blink at him. “Didn’t think you did this.” I gesture vaguely between us. “You know, since it kills the whole mood. That’s why it’s chase, fuck, leave . I’m pretty sure that was in the contract.”

Rubbing a hand across the stubble on his jaw, he gives me a look like I just suggested we try to find the bear and invite it for a threesome. “Do you want to walk back in the dark alone?” he asks incredulously. “Knowing there’s a bear around?”

“No,” I huff, sounding like said bear for a moment. “Of course not. It just surprised me.”

“I’m not sure what that says about me if you’re surprised I don’t want you roaming around the woods at night with a bear.” He sounds thoughtful. Something about it makes me feel like he’s a tiny bit serious—as if he cares what I think about him.

Interesting.

“There’s a flashlight in the bag,” I offer.

“Good thinking.”

I shouldn’t feel a little thrill of pleasure at the praise in his voice. I also shouldn’t care that he gives me an approving look. But I do. Though I may not have won today’s hunt, I’ve impressed him with my preparedness. It’s something.

Despite loving the woods, walking through it in the dark immediately after a bear encounter isn’t my favorite activity.

It’s enjoyable with Shane, though. He tells me about the property, how he bought the house five years ago and renovated it.

That his brother, Caine, and sister, Delaney, each own a small part of the acreage.

As an only child, that sounds fun, and I tell him so.

I wait for him to mention their parents, but he doesn’t, and I don’t ask.

He’s steering the conversation away from family when there’s a rustling in the bushes in front of us.

We halt, Shane training the flashlight on the bushes.

They shake and shift, the branches rattling.

Shouldering his way in front of me, he stands up straight, clearly intending to intimidate what I assume is the bear coming back for a second sniff.

While I can appreciate the gesture, it doesn’t seem like a great plan.

I step up beside him, pressing close, hoping we’ll look like one formidable beast.

The bushes rustle louder, the movement closer.

“Get behind me,” Shane hisses, trying to shuffle in front of me again.

“We’re scarier together,” I hiss back, moving with him.

Before he can respond, a creature emerges from the bushes, freezing in the flashlight’s beam.

A raccoon. One who looks like it’s regretting every choice that brought it to this encounter.

Eyes shining yellow, it pauses for a split second, then turns to rush back into the brush.

We stare. The raccoon makes so much noise in its escape that I laugh, even though my heart rate hasn’t dropped yet.

Shane relaxes, his shoulder bumping mine. Then he’s laughing too, a deep rumble that makes my stomach tighten.

“You were willing to fight a bear with me?” He nudges an elbow into my side as we begin to walk again.

“I wasn’t going to do the actual fighting. You’ve proven you have that covered.”

He chuckles, and we fall into a companionable silence.

Shane stays close the whole way back, our arms brushing.

His skin is warm against mine, but I feel even warmer on the inside.

Cozy, despite the circumstances. There’s a sense of otherworldliness being surrounded by trees, enveloped by the dark.

Crickets serenade us with their nighttime song the whole way back.

At the house, we part ways. The porch lights steal the night magic of the woods, any comradery gained by our brush with the bear left among the pines.

We’re employer and employee again. I try to ignore the sensation of loss settling over me.

This is the natural cycle. I shouldn’t mourn it any more than I’d grieve the setting sun dropping below the horizon. But a small, foolish part of me does.

· · ·

As I shower off sweat and dirt, I try not to think about how fun it was to walk back with Shane, how almost couple-y it felt. Being woken up from a post-sex snooze by a bear would be one hell of a first date.

A man doesn’t leave you to get eaten by a bear, and you think it’s a date?

He did say I have a nice face…

I can’t let myself think tonight was anything more than basic human decency.

I’ve learned I can’t trust my instincts.

I never doubted Keith. Looking back, I can see what should have been warning signs.

The way he was never home, the way his phone was always in sight, how he was always a little too friendly with women.

But I was sure he loved me, so I didn’t question the red flags. I just let those fuckers fly.

I’m contemplating what the future looks like sans Keith as I wrap myself in a towel and start to brush out my wet hair.

I’ve convinced myself that it’s going to be good when I feel something suspicious on the back of my skull.

Abandoning the brush to explore with my fingertips, I probe the tiny lump.

It shifts from my prodding but doesn’t come free.

Damnit.

I don’t have to see it to know what it is. A tick. Lodged directly on the back of my head, sucking my blood, and, considering we’re in Maine, possibly giving me Lyme disease. Despite the near- bath I took in bug spray before the hunt, I’ve been invaded. I weigh my options.

Try to remove it myself, or find Gretchen or Margot and ask them for help.

It’s an easy decision. The idea of breaking off the body and leaving the head embedded in my skin is horrifying. I need help. Throwing on a pair of sleep shorts and a hoodie, I grab tweezers from my makeup bag and head out of the bedroom.