Chapter Three
Nate
Soft hands ran over my body. They applied pressure in all the right places. One hand rubbed my balls. Oh fuuuck. I groaned and spread my thighs to give the hands better access.
“Are you dead, frat boy?” a voice cut through my dream, and I yelped.
In a heartbeat, I was on my feet and backing away. I stumbled over the gnarly roots that cut through the ground and landed on my ass, slamming my head into the rough bark.
“Ow, fuck!” I huffed, but the impact sobered me up a little.
My eyes landed on the stupid trap I’d put up and I screamed.
The joke of a net under the flimsy branch was no longer empty.
No fucking way.
My eyes had to be playing tricks on me.
Under the net sat a big as fuck creature with both of its feet planted firmly on the ground and elbows resting on their knees. They had their beak propped on their clasped hands and regarded me patiently out of their unusual eyes.
After a few long moments they said something, but my brain finally had enough. It blanked.
What the fuck is this thing? And why on earth does it sound Canadian?
“What did you say?” I asked in a voice that betrayed how close I was to fainting again like a damsel in distress.