Hunt Me! (I Crave The Chase) - Page 194

I just?—

I was so hungry?—

I just?—

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jules and Harry jerked back against the wall, flattening themselves against it as the room clouded with fearscent. “Fuck. Fuck.” Harry’s eyes were wide, the whites showing. Jules was quaking, skin nearly as pale as the white streak at his temple.

“We’re so fucked,” Jules hissed.

“No, we’re not.” Harry glared at him, then me. I snapped at him, and he flinched back. “We’re—I mean. Oh fuck.”

“Dad can only save him if he’s not feral. That’s pretty fucking feral.”

“I know.”

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

Out.

I wanted out.

I needed out.

Needed mate—needed?—

“You gotta come back,” Jules’s voice cracked. “Mutt. C’mon.” He was the quiet brother, the pretty one. He’d never been the most emotional person—not like Harry, who wore his emotions plainly. “You?—”

I snapped at him and he jerked back.

“Fuck.” Harry’s eyes flicked between me and Jules, and I growled, backing away and then barrelling into the bars again. They creaked. “Fuck. Okay. Okay.” He twitched. “Think. I gotta think. I gotta?—”

“Did they bond?” Jules asked.

“Of course fucking not,” Harry hissed at him. “You can’t bond with a human.”

“Except that you can.” Jules jerked his head at me.

“What do you?—”

“His mate. He has a mate.”

“No, he?—”

“Look at him. Just fucking…look at him.” His voice was low and tight. “The second he found out Jeffrey got hurt he went ape shit?—”

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

No no no no no no.

Their words filtered away, blackness clouding my vision. The hunger ached brighter, tighter. My teeth itched. Retreat, slam. Retreat, slam. Retreat, slam. Over and over I hit the bars, attempting to weaken them with every leap.