Hunted in Holly

Chapter 7

Don’t breathe .

I laid prone beneath the snow, utterly still, not even wanting to blink, as I heard the crunch of a footstep outside my den. My lungs clung to stale air, and I cursed the thumping heartbeat that sounded like a drum line in the soundless woods. The treacherous organ would give me away at this rate. The rapid pace had my brow covered in sweat, and it was only my own frost magic that kept my cavern from melting from my rising body heat.

A thousand tells, all of which a skilled hunter might notice.

My exhale was slow, strained, and only out of absolute necessity. I held my empty lungs for as long as I could before allowing another desperately controlled and quiet inhale.

Another crunch in the snow.

He was right beside me now, inches from putting a boot through the top of my small cubby beneath the powder. I could practically feel his presence, while his scent of chocolate and nutmeg was strong enough to penetrate my burrow.

“Where, oh where, could my Sweet Noel have run?”

A tree branch rustled as his footsteps neared ever closer. I hoped the pulse in my ears wasn’t as audible to anyone outside them.

“My fragile dove, so clever, and so quick. It’s no wonder she’s Queen of the South.”

I swallowed, but the lump in my throat remained. He had to know I was here. He wouldn’t be saying these things if he didn’t.

But even if he’d figured out my false footfalls and sensed I was in the area, it was unlikely that he’d pinpointed my exact location. My instincts wanted to run, but my logic told me to hold my position. If I sprung from my den now, I might be able to evade him for a little while, but with his long legs and superior stride, I couldn’t outrun him forever.

I had to bank on the slim, near zero chance that his taunting was a bluff, trying to provoke me into revealing myself.

“I can’t wait to have you for myself, Caroline.” He quit the theatrics and addressed me directly. I dug my teeth into my lip, suppressing any timid noises that might spill from my fear. “A woman with the cunning of a fox.” Five fingers scraped through the snow layer just above my head. “And the survival instincts of a cornered animal.” The sound of his gloves cutting through the powder moved along the cover above my back. “I hope you’ll fight me when I catch you.” His low chuckle injected pure adrenaline into my bloodstream, which was already flooded with terror. “Just the thought of watching you break for me,” his next inhale was sharp, “Gods, you make it so hard to be patient.”

Dead silence followed. This time, for a moment, it felt as though my heart truly did stop, as I strained my ears for any clue at all as to what he was doing now. No sounds betrayed his movements. No more words of provocation helped pinpoint his location. I couldn’t even hear his breathing or find his scent as I remained a statue, locked in a coffin of ice, waiting out my own bitter end.

Then I heard ice crunching under a boot. It seemed distant. A few feet further away than I expected him to be.

Had he given up? Had I won?

Three days was all I needed. I could wait in this hole for three days. There was no reason I shouldn’t be able to do this.

I was safe.

I’d outsmarted him.

I knew this would work.

Relief shook itself across my lips, lifting the corners in a tentative smile.

And a hot, brutal hand shot through the snow and wrapped around my ankle. I barely had time to scream before my body was ripped viciously from my safe haven.