Page 29 of Primal Hunger
My feet dig grooves in the soft mossy ground, my posture hunched as though to protect her from airborne threats.
I march through the forest and steer clear of the sinking pit where she nearly got herself stuck earlier. I wasn’t close enough to see her struggle, but I could smell the whisper of her floral perfume and her perspiration in the air. It was a close call—she’slucky she made it out alive—and I’m not sure how I would have felt if she’d died there.
Disappointed, I’m sure. Robbed of an opportunity.
Dying by my hand is the only way I plan to let this mortal go, but the twinge of something stronger, something fiery, ignites at the thought of losing her to the woods.
I don’t like it.Not one bit.Of that I am entirely sure.
With a growl, I tamp down those thoughts too, annoyed by how much this woman seems to consume my thoughts, but I can’t help it. I’ve never wanted to know so much about my prey before, and the questions come before I can stop them.
I cradle her closer to my chest and feel her heartbeat through my fur.
How did she know where to find the portal?
She was completely unconscious when we came through, and slept until she was tied up in my nest. Does the portal call to her the same way it calls to me every solstice? Can she somehow sense her way home? Or was it a coincidence that she ended up near the only way back to her world?
My instinct says the latter, but my instinct also tells me to protect this woman and keep her alive, so I’m not sure how much I should trust anything at the moment.
It’s clearly trying to mess up the order of things.
The entire certainty of my existence in this world has turned on its head and all because of this slight thing in my arms.
I don’t even know her name. Humans all have them, just as Grim do.
I keep my eyes open and ears peeled for any sign of life as we move through the trees in near silence, but luckily, there’s nothing. I would have thought our commotion earlier would have attracted prying eyes, but it appears they’re all preoccupied tonight. Probably indulging in their captures from the solstice.They should at least be content for a few more nights before they come snooping.
That means I have until then to come up with a plan to keep her hidden.
But why do I want to keep her hidden instead of just eating her and being done?
I grunt, annoyed at the resilience of the thoughts I don’t need clouding my judgment. No matter how desperately I force them aside, they return with renewed vengeance, attacking my brain and forcing me to face these things.
Things I’d rather not face.
I try to think of anything else as I make the trek through the woods. However, there’s nothing pressing enough that can break through the sweaty, gamey, floral-hinted scent of the creature in my arms that’s assaulting my senses so relentlessly.
I should throw her in the bushes and leave her there.
Then I wouldn’t have this problem at all.
There are a handful of other options, and the majority of them are better than claiming her as my own.
But I can’t leave her. I won’t.
I’m not letting her go until I absolutely must, until the hunger becomes intolerable. Until the desperate, primal urge to hunt takes over and I lose myself. Then, I’ll kill her. Savor every bite of her body until there’s absolutely nothing left.
The thought makes my mouth water, and I look down again to see her peacefully tucked against me, lost to unconsciousness.
The curious melting sensation in my chest takes me aback.
Holding her this way shouldn’t feel so natural. Touching a human, tasting her, rutting her in the forest. It’s the opposite of natural—it’s bizarre. Unheard of. This sort of thing does not happen.
Yet here I am, going against everything that’s been embedded in my core for hundreds of years, doing just that. Hereweare.
What is wrong with me?
Try as I might to understand, I simply can’t. I don’t know what’s making me feel this way, but I think it has everything to do with the woman in my arms. She is not the same as any of the other humans I’ve hunted over the years.
