Page 90 of Hunt Me

22

DENVER

It takesme a moment to figure out why I feel so odd. The moment my eyes open, they find the little digital clock on Archie’s nightstand, which tells me it’s just past seven in the morning.

Did I sleep all night? Seriously? After all that?

But no. I don’t think I did. I have a very vague, foggy memory of waking up to dinner on a tray, Archie hand-feeding me bites of chicken and roasted potatoes, and then feeding me a delightful little muscle relaxer that worked wonders on the tension I was feeling after the whole…

Well,incident.

I remember his powerful hands making long, sweeping rubs over my back and shoulders as I lay there immobile and in almost as much heaven as I’m in when he fucks me senseless. The unfortunate side effect of the muscle relaxer is that my body is loose, like my limbs are made of jelly, and it’s hard to climb out of bed and make my way to the bathroom.

I feel a little more human than I did last night though, and once I’m back in the bedroom, I’m moving a little easier. I have evening classes tonight, which normally I love, but after everything at my condo, the thought sends my anxiety spiraling.

I recall with an almost vicious clarity the blood on Archie—the way I thought it was his and the fear that caused, then the relief of knowing that it came from the monster who’s after me. I’m still not sure if it’s my stalker from before or some asshole copycat who wants to torment me, and I’m not sure I want to know.

At this point, I just want it all to be over, and I don’t care how it ends.

I lick my lips with an impossibly dry tongue, then decide some coffee and maybe a walk will do me some good. I dress in a pair of my sweats and a shirt from Archie’s dresser that’s two sizes too big. It hangs off my shoulder a little, but the comfort of smelling like him is like a warm blanket.

I have no idea where he is, but I’m not surprised to find him gone. I take the stairs up two at a time in an attempt to get my blood pumping, excited to find Archie and get my hands back on him, but that feeling doesn’t last long. The smile forming on my face dies as I come around the corner into the kitchen and skid to a halt.

There are two strangers in the kitchen, and one of them—the younger one—is standing very close to Archie.

MyArchie.

The one on the left holding coffee and staring at me with steady eyes is an older man. He’s very tall, with slightly curly iron-gray and brown hair set neatly like he’s never had a single strand out of place. He’s got a cut jaw covered in a short, very well-groomed beard, and he’s in a button-up shirt and slacks.

There’s something about his face that seems familiar, and I can’t put my finger on it until Archie leans over next to him, and I realize then that they look alike. It’s almost as if I’m peering into the future at what Archie will look like in thirty years.

My heart starts pounding a little harder as I look to his right at the other man. The one who’s touching Archie. In fact, he’shanging off his shoulder like Archie belongs to him, and I feel a sudden wave of absolute fucking anger.

And it’s made worse by the fact that the man is absolutely goddamn beautiful.

He’s tall, lanky, wearing an off-the-shoulder sweater and leggings. He’s got long, dark hair put up in a messy bun, piercing hazel eyes that seem to follow my every movement, and Mediterranean olive-toned skin like he’s been literally kissed by the sun.

He’s watching me too—with a different kind of intensity. It almost feels like Deaf eyes taking me in. And he’s still holding Archie’s arm, almost like a challenge, until Archie steps away from him, but the older man gently grabs his shoulder, and he freezes.

He doesn’t look guilty, but he does look uncomfortable.

“Denver,” Archie says aloud. I can tell he’s speaking from the way his mouth moves, and then he blinks and seems to realize I can’t hear him and switches to sign. ‘Sorry. You were asleep. We wake you?’

I shake my head and want to take a step closer, but my feet feel glued to the floor. I don’t know why I’m so upset. Maybe it’s the trauma, or maybe it’s a reminder that while this place might feel like home, it isn’t mine. And even though Archie and I are something, we’ve only just started getting to know each other. I have no real claim on him.

Archie licks his lips, then pulls away from the man I’m assuming is his father and steps in front of me. His body blocks my view of the kitchen, and relief hits me like a tidal wave.

‘You okay?’

I nod, looking at his eyes and watching his hands move in my periphery. ‘I didn’t know you were having people over. Your friend…’ My fingers hesitate and hover. ‘If you want me to leave?—’

He body-checks me into the wall, and I feel a rumbling growl coming from his chest. ‘No.’

I smile at that. I can’t help it. Once again, he makes me feel safe and wanted. I swallow heavily, then peer over his shoulder, where both men are watching us.

‘Sorry,’ I sign, but I don’t know what I’m apologizing for.

Archie grips my wrists, then pulls my hands to his mouth and kisses each palm roughly. ‘No sorry,’ he signs pointedly when he lets go. ‘Percy asked my dad to come and help with a problem.’