What the Heart Haunts(2)

Nalla let her voice turn sultry as she whispered, “So whaddya say?”





***





Khost shifted in the booth, watching her. She seemed off. Edgy. Wild. He had to roll his shoulders at the last thought. The whole night felt wild to him. Alive. Sweet Herne, but he wanted to run. Not be sitting down here to try and track down some valuable his god had misplaced. He just wanted this to be done and over with.

Don’t let her know what you are, Cissy had whispered, when she’d begged him to do this. He won’t miss you, not tonight. You’re too far down in the pack for him to notice.

But she’d misplaced the hunting horn a few centuries ago and apparently, with the winter solstice on its way, and the correct alignment of the ether-realms...she needed it back or Herne was going to have Cissy’s head on a chopping block. And this woman here was supposed to have it.

She’ll keep it close to her, so all you have to do is make nice.

And apparently go for a walk with her. The thought of stepping outside into the wind, feeling the fresh air in his lungs and Khost wasn’t sure he could keep it together. He shivered. His skin was damn near twitching off the bone. This was the last place he wanted to be. But he’d seen what happened to a Hound that displeased Herne; their god didn’t take nicely to failures and he really didn’t want to see Cissy’s head rolling over a cloud covered field.

Khost leaned back, one hand raking through his hair as he blew out a breath. One walk couldn’t hurt. Then...what? Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this. Make nice? What did that even mean? Maybe a walk would give him time to think. “Yeah. That’d be good.”

Her smile widened enough to flash teeth. With one last tip of her beer, she swallowed another gulp, tossed a handful of bills down on the table and eased out of her seat, sidling closer to him. Heat scalded up his arm, raising the hairs as every muscle in his body jerked to attention. Run, his body screamed. Khost gripped the table to keep his hands off her. If he didn’t watch himself he was going to grab her and haul her after him for miles as he shook off the urge to be running loose in the sky.

Herne might not miss him tonight, but Khost was sure as hell going to miss the Hunt.

He stood up, edging away from her. She just shook her head, wavy blonde hair bouncing around her face, and she led him out the front door, the bells chiming behind them. The cool touch of the night air was like a drug, his reaction instant. Every nerve in his body came alive, burning hot and heavy. Khost staggered a step, drawing himself up short before he could bolt off into the darkness.

“Let me just snatch my jacket from the rig, then we can go.” She tossed him a look over her shoulder, her steps light, fast. Short, quick strides took her straight towards the semi at the edge of the parking lot. A forest stretched out behind the truck, the rumble of a highway nearby the only sound in the darkness.

She jerked open the front door and grabbed a leather jacket, shoving her arms into it before yanking it up onto her shoulders. One handed, she dug her hair out from under the collar, then reached down and tugged on a small gold chain, freeing a necklace that had been hiding under her shirt.

Cissy had to be shitting him. Fucking shitting him.

How the hell was he supposed to get the horn when it was less than two inches tall and hanging from her freaking neck?

Nalla cocked her head. “You cool?”

“Yeah.” His gaze dropped to the gold necklace dangling over her shirt, just a hair higher than the dip between her breasts. The symbols spelling out the Hunt were etched in the side. This couldn’t be a coincidence, a human female wouldn’t know. Damn. A witch, maybe?

“Well, then let’s go.” She swerved into him, her shoulder bumping his and he staggered, anticipation flaring through him. He felt the Hound inside him leap at her touch, felt the dog want to play and he was ready to race after her, barking into the full moon sky.

But she didn’t take off into a sprint. Of course she didn’t. She wasn’t a Hound and humans and witches didn’t have a mad longing to kill themselves by running blind in the woods at night. Khost stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets and playfully knocked back into her, keeping his breathing even. Play along. Wait for an opportunity to snatch and grab.

Pine needles broke under his shoes as he followed her into the forest. Her steps were light, quick, as if she were fighting back a jog. That or it was his imagination. His instincts were screaming at him full tilt. Run, he wanted to shout at her. Shivers trailed through every muscle in his body and his bones ached with the need of it all. Nalla reached up and snapped a branch off a tree, waving the twig in the air.