Page 60 of Hunt Me

I feel his hand on my back, his fingers trembling, and I turn to face him. ‘I don’t think anyone’s here, but I want to check first.’ I couldn’t hear movement, but I’m not letting him wander around without being certain.

He swallows thickly, then steps past me and sucks in a breath so sharp he starts to cough. I can see the pain in his face as he grips the wall, and I quickly take him by the chin, guiding his breath so he calms down.

‘Better?’

He shakes his head, but I know he means the shock of it all.

Reaching into my back pocket for my larger folding knife, I press it into his hand. ‘Wait here,’ I tell him. ‘Hurt anyone who gets close to you.’

He pales but nods as he curls his fingers around the weapon. He looks good like that, wearing my clothes and holding my knife. If these were different circumstances, I would pin him to the wall and fuck him just like this.

But there’s time for that later.

Taking a deep breath, I push away from him and do a quick search of all the rooms. Luckily, there are only two bedrooms with a single bathroom off his, and not a lot of closet space, which means there aren’t many places for this fucker to hide.

No one is under either of the beds, and the linen closet is all but empty, so by the time I make it to the kitchen, I let myself relax as much as I’m able, considering the circumstances. I don’t know if anything’s been taken, but I’m not sure we’ll get the chance to find out right now.

Denver’s in the living room with his back pressed to the wall, his eyes a little dazed. He’s definitely in some kind of shock again, and that leaves me freshly pissed off at the person doingthis. But he’s also steady on his feet, which means my brother’s probably right. There’s more to this story than he’s told me so far.

‘No one here.’

His shoulders relax a fraction. ‘Okay.’ I’m tempted to ask now what’s going on, but I think he’ll be more open if I bring it up once we’re home. ‘Look around. Was anything taken?’

He’s still trembling as he does what I instruct, but he also obeys beautifully. I trail him into the kitchen, then into his bedroom, then into the guest room.

When he gets to the bathroom, he stops and frowns.

I tap him on the shoulder. ‘What?’

‘My soap. Cologne. Shampoo. All gone.’ He gestures to the door on the bathroom sink cabinet that was left open. ‘I have extra. All gone.’

‘What else?’

‘Shirts,’ he tells me. He pulls me into the bedroom and points to an open drawer in his dresser. ‘Pajamas and T-shirts. Gone.’

I begin to make a list, and in the end, he’s missing boxers, socks, one dress shirt, two pairs of shoes, and a single coffee mug with “coffee” in ASL drawn on the side.

It all seems random, but I know it’s not. I just don’t know how to connect the dots yet.

Glancing over, I see Denver’s shaking again, so I back him against the wall and carefully take his hands in between mine. I know better than to restrict his communication like this, but the more I squeeze, the more his shoulders relax.

I think he might do the same if I were to press my hand over his mouth or his throat, but I can’t do that until he’s a bit more healed from his injuries.

When he’s breathing easier, I kiss each palm before dropping them. ‘What do you need to bring?’

His eyes seem a little hazy as he shakes his head. ‘I don’t know. It all feels…’ He hesitates. ‘Dirty. Tainted. Wrong. Don’t want to touch.’

I think I get it. Someone, some nameless, facelessthing, has violated him in one of the worst ways. They’ve attacked him at his most vulnerable. They’ve hurt him.

And now they’ve been inside his home.

Leaning in, I press a kiss to his hammering pulse, which slowly calms down under the pressure of my lips. I breathe in the scent of him before pulling back.

‘We will get new things.’

‘Can’t afford,’ he tries to tell me.

I lift a brow. ‘I can. For now, wear my clothes.’