Page 38 of Hunt Me

Yep, just like I thought before, the opposite of sexy. I very much doubt he’s going to bend me over any graves after this.

He pulls the door open farther and signs again, ‘Out.’

I guess I should obey him. I mean, really, who did I think I was? Mata Hari? I step out, crumbs falling to the ground, and I brush at my legs for good measure before glancing around. He’s staring at my chin intently, and I can tell he wants me to look back at him.

‘What?’ I finally ask, and his lips curl up.

‘Come. You’re hungry.’

I frown as I realize my stomach has been growling this entire time. The popcorn did nothing to fuel me, and considering I haven’t eaten since lunch today, my blood sugar is probably through the floor.

He gives me a smirk, then turns and marches off, and I sigh, following him as he makes his way toward his house. I keep several feet of distance between us so I can indulge my need to stare at him. My eyes slide from the back of his neck to his wide shoulders, down to his ass.

It’s a very, very nice one, and I lick my lips, feeling a hunger that has nothing to do with the fact that I haven’t eaten in hours.

As though he senses it, he peers over his shoulder and catches me looking. My cheeks flame, but I straighten my back and purse my lips.

‘You want to fuck me,’ he says, and I roll my eyes.

Of course I do. I wouldn’t be out here, in the middle of farm country, if I didn’t. But he doesn’t need me to say it out loud.

‘Know-that,’ he adds and then turns back around and jogs up the rickety porch steps. They’re mismatched and feel unstablebeneath my feet as I follow him up. The entire house is old, with worn paint adorning the outside and wood rot that desperately needs to be replaced. But it has good bones. It’s sturdy, and when my eyes catch on some blue tarp stapled to the side of the roof, I can tell they’re in the process of renovating it.

I wonder if that means they’re planning to stay a while. The thought makes my stomach clench, and it sends a zinging sensation up my spine.

Before I can dig too deeply into what that means, Arhe swings the front door open and holds it as I step past him. The room opens up immediately to a spacious living area with taped-up moving boxes lining the wall on the far side. In front of the window is a floral couch, and across from that is a TV stand, but it’s missing the TV.

The rest of the house is full of furniture that looks like it came straight out of a 1980s Sears catalog. I don’t think any of it belongs to them, considering the layers of dust on everything, but then again, what do I know? Most of my furniture came from IKEA delivery and bribing my friends with pizza and beer to put those Swedish, adult LEGO together in a way that will keep it all from falling apart in three months.

Arhe hovers beside me, so I look down at my shoes and point at them. ‘Off?’

‘Don’t care.’ He shrugs and then steps forward, leaving me to follow him once more.

The floor’s kind of a mess, so I leave them on as I trot after him, and we move into a spacious kitchen that looks a lot more put together than the living room. It has a large chipped farmhouse sink and mismatched cabinets, which give the place charm. It looks a lot more like a granny’s house than a place that belongs to three probably-not-vampire murderer brothers, but hey, maybe that’s their aesthetic.

Either way, it’s not perfect, but it looks functional, and that’s probably all not-quite-vampires need.

Arhe regards me for another long moment, then opens the fridge and bends down, grabbing what looks like three grocery store packs of lunch meat, some lettuce, and a jar of Dijon.

‘Sit,’ he orders, and I try not to think about how easy it is to obey his commands. I set my ass on a wobbly stool at the peninsula and rest my elbows on the laminate countertop as I watch him grab the cheap bread and begin to assemble what’ll be my dinner for the night.

It’s simple—turkey, cheese, and mustard—but my stomach rumbles all the same, and he must hear it because he glances back over at me, the right corner of his lips tilted up in amusement. He hesitates before turning away, but when he crosses the room with the plate, his shoulders are more relaxed as he slides it toward me.

I stare at his hand, his hoodie sleeve resting at the base of his wrist, and there’s a brown stain on the cuff. Blood?

I try not to think about it as I pull the sandwich closer, though I don’t pick it up right away.

Arhe pushes it closer and with an annoyed huff signs, ‘Eat.’

I manage not to roll my eyes. He doesn’t look scary now. He looks a little pouty and adorable, his curls flopping over his forehead, his lips set in a tiny frown. His eyes don’t leave mine, and it’s not until the tension returns to his shoulders that I finally pick it up and take a massive bite.

‘Wine?’ he asks.

My cheeks are puffed out from stuffing my face, but I nod all the same. I mean, why the hell not? My stalking has been ruined by Arhe finding me first, and it’s not like I’m going to go back to my car and drive home after all this. At least not for a good, long while. And frankly, I could use the drink.

As much as I’ve been pretending all of this is normal, I know it’s not. Arhe is a stranger, and while he saved my ass, the person who went after me is probably still around. I know the worst thing I can do is shove my head into the sand. I did that the first time and ended up with an FBI friend and a court case that went pretty much nowhere, and I told myself I never wanted to do that again.

But I can’t exactly go to the police. Not after what happened in the alley. I can’t walk up to a cop and tell them that someone tried to choke me out after a drag show, and a hooded stranger who has a thing for coffins beat him half to death. The cops don’t take Deaf people seriously on a good day.