Fear.

Fear more vicious on my flesh than the bite of December air, clawing down my spine and sinking into my thighs to scream—Run.

“Run, run, little doe.”

The command penetrates deep through the center of my belly and spreads. Yet, I grip the bark of the tree for dear life, nails scraping on wood fiber.

Not wanting to make a sound.

Not wanting to be caught.

My skin isn’t even my skin anymore. I’ve been transformed by the ruthless panic. I’m puckered and raised, hairs on end.

I’m rough and brittle. It’s not the bitter cold that has my teeth shattering, or my hearing blurred by the rush of pulse.

It’s the hunt.

The woods hum around me, singing its usual song. Birds chirp, and the wind groans. The woods don’t care—this is its usual dance. The wild has no sympathy for me.

Creak.

The sound shatters through me like a bullet. A taste in my mouth, copper as blood. Cruel as the circle of life and heady as a drug. Pumping me full of chemicals.

I explode across the forest floor. Scents of earth and the spice of pine stir around me.

Run, run, run.

I leap over a log. My knees hit the ground. Skin grazes, stings, breaks, but the panic fills me and I can’t slow.

I regain footing, darting between trees.

Nature swallows me whole.

Branches lash my arms and chest, pain peaking and waning with every heedless leap. The crushing musk of dirt and fight stalks me. Cold snaps my surface.

The thump of my heart contracts my body.

Breath sets my lungs on fire. My chest burns. My thighs wail.

I stumble and hit the ground, sinking into a cushion of leaves. Wariness beckons me to lay my head and stay a moment.

Rest.

I blink and gasp. Roll onto my back and glance around. Trees surround me. Bushes. Ferns. Nothing sinister. But the birds…

They’ve gone silent.

I scramble backwards on heels and searing elbows. My panting swirls around me. The forest floor is stirred up from my struggles. Even the most armature hunter could track my path.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart beats louder than my gasps. “Run, run, little doe.” But would a doe notice the disturbance she’s made fleeing?

Would she smell the hunter coming?

Like I do now.

My gaze darts from point to point. Every branch seems sharp toothed. Every leaf a long fang. Every fern, ruffled, slinking fur.

I sniff the air. It’s there—earth, and thunder. That’s what he smells like…

He’s fast. His wolf senses sharper than mine.

I drag myself to the underbrush and curl inside. Deep and safe as I can get. I huddle, wrapping arms around my knees. Torn denim reveals the dirty grazed skin on my knees, and the unmistakable iron waft of fresh blood.

Shivers roll through me. I bite my teeth together to stop the shatter.

Now the cold sinks needlelike into my tingling extremities.

Snap.

My chin notches, and my neck fuses stiff. The cold is the least of my concerns. Frostbite is a meager threat to the one coming for me.

Creak.

My eyes strain wide but all I see is the soft gentle sway of brush. The rustle closes in. Panic fills my mouth like a spoonful of slick fat—I can’t swallow.

Can’t swallow it down.

Yet, it pours down my throat and fills my lungs solid.

The movement passes by.

Air rushes from my chest in a heave.

I roll forward onto hands and knees. Pine breaks under my palms, the sharp scent clean and crisp and filthy at once.

I crawl low, and will myself little.

Little as the smallest creature in the forest…unseen.

My head emerges from the foliage, and my gaze darts around.

I pull my aching body free.

The sound catches me still on hands and knees. A low vibration that seizes my muscles—snarl.

Adrenaline lashes me like the crack of a whip.

I leap forward, up and on my feet again. And run. I dart between trees.

Footsteps pound behind me.

Fear bursts brightly through my veins in a flood of speed. I rush faster. The pounding pursues me.

Closer.

My arms pump, knees rising. I thrum from forehead to feet. The forest blurs to a buzz.

Pain snaps through the back of my skull.

A grip in my hair wrenches through me.

My spine twists and contorts.

I’m jerked off my feet. My lungs flood. A scream bursts from my open mouth, splintering the forest. Shattering me with the force it departs my body.

The searing tension in my scalp tugs, tossing me to the floor.

I hit the ground on my side, and roll onto my back.

Fluttering wings flitter through my vision.

My chest heaves.

Where were those bird’s moments ago to warn me?

The looming frame comes into focus, and the next scream dies on my lips.

I know…They never saw a predator like this coming.

He slinks closer.

No warning could’ve saved me. He’d catch me no matter what. There’s no hiding place from him.

His gaze seizes mine. Hunger is a pulsing, blood-hot need set deep in hazel eyes.

He’s an animal.

A complete animal for me…

I scuttle back. The heels of my boots plough tracks in moss.

Now I’m down he comes for me in slow excruciating increments. Every even exacting step, flexes his power.

I hold up dirty palms.

He tilts his head as if taking in my stop sign hands—and his next move is a violent streak toward me.

He grabs my ankle.

A shriek leaves me. I twist, and my boot departs my foot. Then my sock. The icy air on my toes is blade sharp.

“No!” I lunge upright and throw my shoulder against him.

He’s thrown from his crouch, but in an instant thick arms surround me, locking me in. My heart bursts against the inside of my ribs.

I shriek again. My knees grind in dirt but I can’t gain traction to resist. He takes me down.

Hands grab me in a frenzy, tearing at fabric, breaking through cloth.

I strike with balled fists. Pain shudders through my joints as though hitting at rock.

My skin exposes to frigid air. The button pops off my jeans. I scream, flailing and bucking with my whole body. My knee lands between thick thighs.

He explodes with a roar.

The sound resonates to my middle. He seizes my wrists—then they’re above my head. I buck. He’s so strong, he holds me one handed, then my jeans are gone.

He covers me.

I shake my head from side to side.

Terrible energy fills me. Tingling my extremities. Flooding me with rushing brightness.

Every emotion I’ve ever possessed, every repressed sensation, and every unwanted desire, streams through me.

I meet his gaze.

My fingers curl. My teeth set.

I hiss, long and loud and sizzling. The sound vibrates between us—a humming cord of tension no knife could sever.

His snarling mouth and narrowed eyes mirror my rage.

My spine arches.

He reaches down and sets himself free, then hauls my thigh wide. The scent of my own desire hits me in a white-hot wave. He drives into me, cock gliding clean through my wetness in a branding claim.

I scream, then the impact freezes the air in my chest. The flesh inside me stings, burns, and almost breaks around his girth.

Then gives way.

I breathe again and howl. I lunge with everything I have left, and sink my teeth through fabric at his shoulder and into skin. A deeper howl joins mine.

His grip loosens and I wrench my wrists free.

He fucks me even as my fists strike him. His cock drives deep, filling me core to surface to soul. Energy expands through my cells swamping me in need.

I claw at his chest. His shirt rips. Bright red splotches bloom on the tatters.

His cock squelches through my lust.

Pleasure joins the volcanic mix of sensation.

I writhe and wrap my legs around his hips. I buck—attacking him even with my cunt. I want to murder him with my body. I want to eat him. Tear into him with my teeth. Breathe him in and swallow him whole. Mark my territory with tooth, nail, scent, blood, and sex. He’s the baddest beast in this forest, the most terrifying creature of my imaginings, and he’s mine.

Everything inside me and out, gets louder.

I can’t keep myself in. I can’t keep everything in my body and can’t let it out.

He grabs my throat with one hand, and seizes my wrist again—trapping me at the very moment I need to explode. Monster. I shiver and shake and shudder, pinned at wrist and by my own windpipe. My breath in his hand. All there is to do, is take.

He plunges in, and in, and in, and in.

I take, and take, and take.

My head gets bright. Adrenaline is a fast, hot pressure filling my skin brim.

There’s no air.

I burst. Bliss twists me inside out. I convulse. The pressure departs my throat. Oxygen pours into me, and every other feeling flows out. There’s a groan somewhere almost in the distance. Liquid streams on my thighs. But I’m a shuddering mass of pleasure, and all I can do is inhale.