Chapter 4 #2
The man, Pearson, shouts something from the trunk followed by thumping as he beats against the interior.
Seems he managed to get the gag off, the fact becoming apparent when he yells a string of obscenities that would make a saint blush.
Too bad for him, a storm is rolling through the area, and from the looks of the lot and camping grounds, the place is deserted.
Getting out of my vehicle, I strain my senses for any hint that someone is close by, but there’s nothing but the local wildlife. Grinning, I pop the trunk and drag the limp dick douche out of the vehicle by his lank hair.
I drop him in an unceremonious heap on the gravel, wiping my hand on my pants. His hair really is as greasy as it looks. Fucking disgusting. How he managed to get vetted and approved to use the brothel is a mystery. Terry typically has better taste in clientele.
Grabbing his arm, I haul him to his feet and begin marching him into the forest. He fights against my hold, his feet scrabbling against the gravel as I drag him forward.
“What the fuck are you doing, man? All I did was rough up some bitch and a fag!”
I let go of him and spin, a snarl falling from my lips. “You assaulted my employees on my property.” The growl that reverberates from my chest has him falling backwards onto his ass. “There’s an old cabin by a stream. You make it there, you’ll live.”
His mouth falls open in disbelief. “What happens if I don’t find it?”
“I’ll get to see how well you taste with onions.” I give him a sinister smile, my fangs already lengthening.
The arrogance is gone now. Nothing but terror seeps from his pores and it’s intoxicating. His heart accelerates at the realization that I’m not joking and I barely have time to slice the zip ties from his wrists before he’s darting into the trees.
I don’t rush as I strip out of my clothes and throw them in the trunk. The park is over five hundred acres with very few roads. And he’s either blind, stupid, or so terrified that he can’t see straight because he rushes past the crumbled cabin in his haste to get away from me.
Why do humans always do that? Just assume that whatever target I give them is deep in the forest, when it’s standing only twenty feet away?
I roll my shoulders, goosebumps rushing over my skin, followed by black fur.
The change is swift, the pain of breaking bones and shifting muscles barely even registering as I draw the man’s scent into my nose.
The terror and adrenaline makes me salivate and my dick throb as it slides from its sheath.
Hunting and fucking go hand in hand for a lot of predatory shifters and it can take years before a shifter can differentiate between them.
But I never bothered to separate the two desires.
I’m messed up enough in the head that I’ve fucked my prey before killing them many times.
Or during group hunts, I’ve mounted the first packmate I come across after a fresh kill.
But I have no desire to fuck this man. Seth is the only one I want to sink my dick into.
I drop to all fours and take off into the forest. All I want to do to this man is kill him and bathe in the copper-rich taste of his blood.
I run through the trees, nose to the ground as I follow the man’s trail deeper into the forest. Barely half a mile in and I don’t even need to scent him anymore. He’s making so much damn noise, between crashing through the underbrush and cursing, that I can just pad after him in a trot.
I spot him through the brush as he tries and fails to clamber over a fallen tree.
Losing his balance, he falls and lands on his ass and I chuckle, the sound coming out as a raspy whine.
His head shoots up, eyes locking with mine before letting out a god-awful screech that has me pinning my ears to my skull.
Jesus, the guy has a set of lungs on him.
I lunge at him, my teeth catching on the fabric of his shirt as he throws himself backwards. His shirt rips as he twists and flees, but he doesn’t get far. I swipe his legs out from under him with one paw and he collapses onto his face.
I tower over him, my tongue lolling from my mouth to drip saliva on the back of his head. I’m not even out of breath and this guy is panting like he just finished a triathlon.
“Please, please don’t kill me,” he sobs into the dirt. The scent of urine permeates the air and I sneeze, my lips curling in disgust.
This is by far the most disappointing hunt I’ve ever had. Too easy. Too pathetic. The bloodlust that had been flooding my system is absent, and it’s frustrating. Yes, I can still rip him apart and literally bathe in his blood, but it just seems anti-climactic at this point.
I back away from the crying man, teeth bared. I’m not letting him leave this forest alive, but the urge to sink my teeth into him is gone.
Sniffling, he sits up and rubs at his eyes, smearing mud around his face. There’s hope in those watery blue eyes, but it’s short-lived. With a chuffing growl, I grab the fallen tree he had tried to climb over and toss it at him.
His shrill scream is cut short as the heavy trunk lands on him with a meaty, wet sound. His legs convulse for a few seconds before going still, and my lips furl as the smell of fresh shit drifts over to me.
I stand there for only a few minutes before I head back toward my vehicle. If I’m lucky, someone will find his body and his death will be written off as an accident.
The shift back to human form is slow and painful. Without the adrenaline of the hunt, or the post-kill high, I can feel every crack of bone and rip of muscle. With a groan, I get dressed and pull myself into the vehicle just as the sky opens up and the rain pours down.
I lean back against the headrest, staring out the windshield as the rain makes the outside world ablur.
I want nothing more than to go back to Seth’s apartment so I can fill my nose with his scent and my tongue with his taste.
But he will still be at work and there’s hours left before he goes to sleep.
Hours of dealing with frustration, disappointment and the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever had to deal with.
Throwing the vehicle into reverse, I pull out of the parking lot. The least I can do is let Terry know the greasy fucker has been dealt with.
A heavy sigh escapes my lips, and as I drive through the downpour, I allow my mind to drift to Seth. I don’t even bother fighting it anymore. I want him. And after today, I deserve to know exactly what it feels like to have Seth’s ass strangle the head of my dick.