He stares at it a moment with skepticism before he grabs my hand and we step outside onto the porch. Looking back at my overnight bag longingly, I trudge behind him.
When I look ahead, I find myself squinting at the eyeful of sun I get. It’s a sunny day, but it’s brisk. And the surroundings here are rough and gloomy looking as winter ran long this year. It’s spring but it looks like most of the vegetation around us is still asleep. The house is pretty, but it’s surrounded by overgrowth. This place has been sorely neglected. There’s another building set back. He walks us back there through dead-looking tall hay-like grass and unlocks the wide door with keys in his hand and pulls it wide. I see some farm equipment and tools as well as a red Chevy pickup truck in there with the hood open and a battery charger connected to it. It’s old. Like around maybe 1940s or 1950s old. And mint. This truck has been loved.
He gets the passenger door open for me, so I climb in, thinking about my overnight bag and all the things I’m going to be leaving behind. Two new bikinis, a pair of jeans that I haven’t even worn yet. A super soft robe. The price of those will be coming off my next paycheck at the boutique. Some nice tops. And some high-end loungewear for a chalet weekend, too. Shit. My expensive ceramic curling iron and two bottles of perfume (one of them kind of pricy) will be lost.
Well… can’t be helped. This little excursion has to be over, that’s all there is to it. He slams the hood and gets in. The truck starts right up, and he pulls out.
He gets out, leaving it running, while he climbs out to double back and shut the garage door. And that’s when it hits me. This is my best chance at escape.
Heart thundering, I scoot across the bench seat over to the driver’s side, lock the door, and take control of the vehicle. I take off, squealing down the overgrown field, kicking up dirt as I head out. In the rearview mirror, I see him standing there, hand on the still-open garage door, looking at me.
I squeeze my eyes tight a second at the strange sensation that sweeps through me, that image of him burning into my retinas, and then I make myself focus on the road instead.
***
I haven’t seen a house since his despite driving for at least five minutes. I keep going down this endless country road with no intersections, zero traffic, and nothing but trees to look at.
Feeling a little lost and overwhelmed, I put my elbow to the door and hand to my neck. That’s when I feel it. That spot he bit.
Oh.
Suddenly, I’m totally, inexplicably grief-stricken. Tears stream down my cheeks.
What the heck?
Why am I crying?
Because I’ve been through such a scary twelve hours?
Because I had sex multiple times with a stranger (and liked it)?
Because of that look on his face when I said I had to go?
Because of the likely look on his face now that I’ve left him there, after I’ve stolen his truck?
I choke on bitter laughter while the tears continue trailing.
I catch sight of myself in the rearview mirror and my eyes look so freaking purple. It’s weird. They were always a blue shade verging on purple, but they look so violet right now.
I keep my hand on my neck and feel those teeth marks under my fingers. I rub the spot briefly and my nipples tingle, my sore vagina aches and not just from overuse, either. It aches with sorrowful need if that’s such a thing.
It is such a thing; I feel it acutely.
Glowing green eyes flash in my mind and I get a little dizzy. I force myself to focus on the road ahead. It winds some more, and I find myself coming up to a dead end bordered by a wooden fence. And… several people stand there on the other side of a big willow tree. Four men and a woman.
Oh! I can ask for directions. And since I’ve only been on one road, it’ll mean I have to pass back by his place. Ack. But they can help me get back on a road I’ll recognize and I’m sure from there I can find out where my car is.
I slow right down before I stop the truck and roll down the window. And that’s when I see the guy… the guy that was at the cabin, the one that became the brown wolf. He’d been turned the other way when I slowed but now he’s looking straight at me. Damn, but he looks a lot like Tyson. They could definitely be brothers.
Retreat!
I immediately throw it in reverse and back up. Fast.