Page 45 of Primal Hunger
A second later, the curtain over the door rips aside, and Syros glances around before finding me on the floor. He has a cluster of plants gripped in his clawed hand. He curls his claws aroundthe stems hard enough to grind them into dust, and his red eyes zero in on me.
Then he asks the one question that has my heart dropping to my toes.
“Who are you talking to?”
Chapter
Sixteen
Syros
Her guilt is palpable and adds another intoxicating layer to her scent.
Erin, my delicate human, kneels over the radio, her hands hovering over its surface like she’s afraid to touch it.
Her eyes dart around the room, betraying her nervousness. I can’t help but feel a pang of annoyance. What is she doing touching my things when I’m not here?
Stranger still, I swear I heard voices just moments ago. Human voices. Amale'svoice, distinctly, but there’s no way anyone else could be here.
The portal is closed, sealed shut for another six months. Yet, when I approached the room, I heard it—an unfamiliar sound coming from within, faint yet unmistakable. My keen senses pick up on every nuance. My ears never lie.
Unless Erin is somehow able to change her voice to such an extent as to be unrecognizable, then she was speaking to someone else, through that radio.
I briefly wonder if there was some way another Grim had lost their meal and there was another human running amok in our world. But that's highly unlikely. My kind are not known for our clumsiness and we certainly do not wait once we have our prey in hand.
Until me.
We are bloodthirsty and hungry, but we are well-equipped for this world. Killing machines. Clumsiness would give us away and make our hunt less successful. It would also make us more susceptible to the invisible beasts lurking in the trees, ready to pounce.
“I said,” I restate, taking a step toward her, “who are you talking to?”
She swallows and I watch the way her throat works as she struggles to speak.
Erin stares at me, eyes wide and posture stiff, as if I’ve caught her doing something I won’t like. But whether that something is touching my things or trying to plan another way of escaping, I don’t know. And one of those I can forgive. The other will get her killed, either by me or another monster.
I bite down on my jaw and wait for her to answer.
She mirrors me and clamps her mouth shut, glances at the floor, and my irritation briefly switches to… to… I’m not sure. Appreciation, maybe?
Very few would dare stand against an angry Grim.
She is a beautiful creature, even when she’s scheming, and too stubborn for her own good. It takes me off guard how much the emotion strikes me. Yes, beautiful, in a world of pure danger and ruin.
Two pillow soft lips, an oval face, arched dark brows, and a tiny nose… she’s the most stunning human I’ve ever come across during my trips to earth, and I’ve been around alongtime.
The attraction should not be there, especially if she is scheming against me.
What are my plans for her, truly?
I wish I could answer that question, but I really don’t know. I don’t think I could eat her now, even if I tried. Thinking about how she feels against me, thinking about the way her pussy grips my cock and milks me… I don’t want to give her up.
But a human in my world puts us both at risk. There aren’t many of my kind left, but other Grims will be able to lock onto her scent. They’ll find her and they won’t be as kind and accommodating as me.
That’s where the gollilock plants come in.
Nearly forgotten, I glance down at the handful I’d gathered from around the swamp. One of the first things I’d done when finally deciding to end my nomadic lifestyle and settle in one place was plant a lot of these. They’re the best tool when wanting to block your scent from other Grims, or nosey creatures who may take a liking to my dwelling and want to steal it for their own.
The fragrance of the gollilock is potent and overwhelming enough to be used as a shield.
