Hunt Me! (I Crave The Chase) - Page 172

Because in front of me was a clearing.

With a treehouse—recently rebuilt.

“This place used to be my sanctuary,” Jeffrey admitted, stepping to the side so I could stare. I could taste death in the air—something old and lurking—more spiritual than it was physical. With a frown, I twisted to look at him. “It’s also where Lydia found me.”

He cracked himself open, his ribs split wide, his heart in my hand.

He told me about the sun. The way it had shined above on the day he’d been taken. Told me about the months leading up to that day—the gifts, the affection, the lies. Told me about the pretty promises, the compliments. The seeds of doubt planted in his young mind.

And then he told me about what had happened after. The people that had died. The people that he had blamed himself for.

About Lydia and her training.

Slowly, all the pieces that made up Jeffrey Prince fell into place. The tall grass hugged my legs as we moved deeper into the meadow, the barren trees hanging dry and high in the sky. The sun was beginning to sink low, but Jeffrey didn’t seem bothered.

“I’m not…” Jeffrey sucked in a breath. “I’m not weak,” he said softly, like he was trying to convince himself more than me.

“You’re not,” I agreed, because it was true.

“It took me a long time to realize that,” he admitted. And then he tangled our fingers together and tugged me toward the targets that were set up near the tree. “Just…I mean. I think part of you is worried I won’t be able to help you—and I just thought…”

There was a table beside the targets, covered in weapons. I stared at them, confused. Nothing was silver—and I could only assume that was on purpose. Because every weapon on that table was well-worn and obviously used. Some were more blood-stained than others.

Jeffrey released my hand—too fast—and reached for a bow and quiver of arrows. “Come back with me,” he said, jerking his head toward where we’d come. “I’ll show you what I’m capable of. Why you should trust me. That I can keep you safe too.”

I followed dutifully, still not sure what was happening.

But…my confusion quickly melted away.

Because as soon as Jeffrey had me a safe distance away from both him and the targets, he let loose. Arrow after arrow. Target after target. Each arrow hit its mark strategically, effortlessly. His body was coiled to strike, graceful as a panther, the brutality of each precise movement making my head spin.

Jeffrey gestured for me to wait, then headed for the table again.

This time he came back with a handful of knives.

I stared, horrified and enraptured as he let those loose as well.

Bullseye after bullseye.

Knife after knife.

And then he grabbed a gun, and let loose much the same way.

And then a crossbow.

And then an ax.

I only recognized half the weapons he used because they were standard hunting equipment. Because we’d grown up being fed nightmarish stories of the hunters that existed out there—just waiting for the moment we became feral.

Some hunters waited their entire lives to kill an alpha.

They saw it as a game.

An achievement.

When Jeffrey finished, he was sweaty and flushed. His skin glistened, and his fuzzy orange hair was damp. He set his weapons down and turned to look at me again, eyes somber.

“You officially know more about me than anyone else,” he said softly, nervously reaching into his pocket to fiddle with the guitar pick he kept there. “I know it’s a lot—and probably scary—but I promise I would never hurt you.” Obviously Harry’s words had snuck inside his head.