What the Heart Haunts(6)

Herne knew no forgiveness. That much was obvious.

Which meant it was a damn good thing for Khost that she’d walked away. Though her good deed of the century still bugged her. His memory still haunted her, niggled at her brain every time she tried to drift off. She licked her teeth, tasting the memory of toothpaste against her tongue and wished it was the taste of Khost, his kiss against her lips again.

She shivered at the memory of Khost’s body against hers. He’d looked so scared, confused when he’d jumped back from her. He knew Herne’s laws, nothing outside of the Hunt. No friendships, no confidants, no love. But Nalla knew how little that meant when Herne explained it after that first run, with no knowledge of anything else. She’d seen the souls they’d plucked from the earth, those Herne had chosen to become Hounds.

She’d seen them take their first baby steps, life breathed back into them by Herne as he set them in the sky on four paws. She’d seen the blank confusion. No memory of the people they’d once been. No memory of anything at all, except the towering huntsman before them and his Hounds milling at his heels. Then they would run and she would watch as elation and bliss stole through their veins. Sheer perfection. It could make a person whole.

Or so she’d thought.

But with time came interludes between runs, times where Herne’s back had been turned so the god could deal with other problems. Times where Malek had laughed with her. A smile touched her lips at the memory. His Hound-form slipping away to give the image of man, something they’d only been allowed very rarely, and the way he’d told stories of their Hunts and made them seem real all over again. He’d brought the magic of the Hunt and woven it into a friendship.

Her lips tingled at the memory of his first kiss. It’d been months since they’d been allowed to be human and when Herne had whistled for them to gather for another run, Malek had caught her before she could Change. He’d spun her around and like a flash, he’d brushed his lips against hers and then had gone sprinting over to join the others. That night when they’d ran, they’d run together. Darting in and out amongst the tree tops and stars, play bowing and chasing one another.

She’d loved him then, she realized.

And he’d proven everything wrong. Freedom, bliss, wild nights of running...were incredible. But people—which is what their souls always were—were meant for loving. So find someone to love. It had sounded so easy the first time she’d thought that. A few years after pining for what had been, she’d given it a whirl. And Gabriel Truitt had filled that void, until she realized he was going to die and she wasn’t.

Nalla rolled to a sit, her bare feet touching the metal floor and she blew out a breath. No. None of these memories were welcome. Screw sitting here whimpering like a kicked dog. She raked a hand through her hair and shook out the knots, before she padded back for the driver’s seat and the ratty old book she had stuffed under the seat. It was just what she needed on nights like this to forget.

She curved a hand around the chair and started to lean down when a scream ripped out of her throat and she leapt back, slamming into the passenger seat. Khost stared at her through the window on the driver’s side. Bright gold eyes widened and he winced, looking almost guilty as he hopped down from the side of her truck, landing on the pavement below. She stood there, hand on the rumpled, hunter green shirt that hung loose around her waist. Between that and the plaid pajama bottoms were definitely a statement of beauty and Nalla tried to remember to breathe.

How had he found her?

And now that he had, how was she going to walk away again?





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Chapter Four


Khost cursed softly from the parking lot, the night air cooling his sweat slick skin. He’d been down here for days and sooner or later, Herne was going to notice him missing. Back of the pack runner that he was, the god wasn’t oblivious. At least not completely. Sooner or later, Herne would come searching, but Khost wasn’t sure he cared anymore. He’d run like hell from her that first night, but nothing could get him off the ground.

Every time he felt the magic start to pulse through him, he’d stumbled at the memory of her face, wavy blonde hair whipping around the soft curve of her chin. His body went hard every time he remembered her shirt peeling away from her body and it flitting through the wind on its way to the ground. His blood pounded through his veins at the memory of her body bared to him and the night sky.

And the horror in those brilliant eyes as she’d bolted from him.

The semi door swung open and there she was, sitting in the driver’s seat, legs dangling as she glared down at him. “What the hell are you doing here?”