Chapter 175. The Stranger In The Woods
Maisie
I couldn’t sleep.
At some point in the last two hours of trying to get some sleep in spite of my body acting like my enemy, I couldn’t help but listen for the sound of Soren’s returning footsteps.
The others had retired to their bedrooms but he hadn’t returned.
I casted a brief glance at Regina, Juliette and Jenny who were snuggled up against each other, snoring softly, and I grabbed the first coat I could find and slipped out quietly, stepping into the night.
The cold air kissed my overheated skin. I didn’t have a destination in mind, but my feet carried me toward the familiar trail anyway, following the faint trace of Soren’s scent on the wind. I told myself I just needed to clear my head. That I wasn’t looking for him.
I had only walked halfway down the trail when I heard a rustle behind me. I turned, brows furrowed, but found nothing.
Wondering if I had imagined it, I started back down again, when another sound reached me. A low, pained exhale, followed by the faint drag of something across dirt and leaves.
My heart kicked hard against my ribs.
I turned fully this time, every sense high on alert as I scanned the trees. The wind shifted, carrying a faint scent on it.
It smelled like wolf. And something else. Something that made my Lycan stir uncomfortably in my chest.
Another scent caught my attention, and when I took three cautious steps forward until I stood just below the crack in the canopy where moonlight spilled through, I saw a dark smear across the grey rocks lining the path.
Blood.
I should have turned back. I should have run straight to the mansion and woken the others. But something pulled me forward instead.
I followed the trail of blood into the trees, moving slowly, silently. The deeper I went, the stronger the scent became. Wilder. And I wondered how it—whatever it was—got past the doubled security around the estate.
And then, I saw it.
It... was a man.
He was crouched low behind a fallen log, half-hidden in shadow. Naked. His skin was streaked with dirt, dried blood, and fresh wounds. Long, matted brown hair hung past his shoulders in tangled ropes. Or maybe that was all the dirt on him making him appear that way. And his nails were curled and overgrown and caked with filth.
He looked half-starved and half-feral, ribs visible beneath his bruised skin, yet there was still something dangerous in the way his muscles coiled.
He must have heard me.
His head snapped up.
For one frozen second, our eyes met, and my frightened yelp came a little too late.
He flinched at the sound of it, cringing back against the log like a cornered animal. A small sound escaped him. Half-growl, half-whimper, and his eyes were wide and wild, reflecting the moon with an unnatural, black shine.
Everything in me knew there was something off about this man. Maybe in more ways than I realized, but when I moved back and he looked at me again, he looked... like a child who was lost, even if I was pretty sure he was older than I was. Possibly a lot older.
"A-are you lost?" I asked.
He blinked at me. I’d never seen anyone with pupils as black as his.
"You smell like a female in heat," he said to me, but he wasn’t looking in my direction at all. His neck was craned like he was hearing things I couldn’t, and he kept flinching at the crickets like they were too loud.
I fought the flush that came over my cheeks, staring at him warily. "Do you know where you are? How did you get here?"
He didn’t respond. He seemed far away, out of touch, really, and when he twitched again, I caught sight of his wrists and bit back a gasp. There were manacle shaped scars on them.
And then I recalled Regina’s words from earlier today. About the red alert.
My heart began racing. Now with a twinge of fear. And I said faintly, testing, "Philip?"
His head lifted and his eyes bore into mine. Hard.
Oh my god, I thought, taking a step backward. It was him. It was really him. What were the odds that I went out for one walk in the safety of my home and ran into an escaped prisoner who had only just killed twenty men earlier today? Really, I had to have one conversation with the Goddess and ask her what the hell was wrong with my luck?
If I ran, would he chase me?
I took one step back.
Then another.
He didn’t come after me. He only watched me, body trembling either from the pain or the cold. Blood dripped steadily from a gash across his side, soaking into the earth beneath him. He didn’t make a move toward me. If anything, he seemed to be trying to make himself smaller, pressing back into the shadows as if he expected me to attack him.
Then he said, "Snake. Your foot."
My soul jumped out of my body when I heard the hiss not too far from me, and I was running back in his direction with a tiny scream that scared the serpent away, and I stumbled on a log, face planting a few feet away from him.
Cheeks burning, I clambered to my feet, brushing the leaves off my clothes.
"Elegant," he remarked, and I wasn’t sure if he was mocking me or complimenting me.
Either way, I was now less frightened than I had been seconds ago, and I watched him sniff around the grass, watching the retreating snake with a hungry look in his eyes. His stomach rumbled, and I thought if I hadn’t been there, he would have caught it and taken a bite out of it.
I didn’t know what to do. Usually, when red alerts were issued, you were supposed to call the authorities immediately.
"Did you really kill those men?" I asked, eyeing him when he began licking the injury on his wrists, mimicking the movement of wolves licking their paws.
He tilted his head very far to the left and I thought he didn’t look at all like a murderer. But these things weren’t often stamped on the forehead. He didn’t respond. His stomach continued to grumble. And his shiver worsened. That coupled with his blood loss, I thought it was very like he passed out soon.
Call the authorities. Don’t call the authorities. Tell my mates. Don’t tell them.
"You’re bleeding," I said. "A lot."
He looked down at the wound like he’d forgotten it was there. Then he looked back at me, and for the first time, I saw something flicker behind the wildness in his eyes.
Fear.
Not of me. Of something else. Perhaps, being found. Being dragged back to wherever he’d escaped from.
There was something about that childlike stare that made me, against my better judgement, shrug off my coat and hold it out to him, keeping as much distance between us as I could. "Here. Put this on. I’ll... I’ll bring you something to eat. And clothes. Just stay here. Don’t move."
He stared at the coat for a long moment before slowly reaching out and taking it. His fingers brushed mine and they were ice cold. He sniffed the fabric once, then wrapped it around his thin frame without a word.
I backed away slowly, heart hammering.
"Don’t go anywhere," I said again, even though I knew how ridiculous that sounded.
Then I turned and sprinted back toward the mansion.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid, I thought as I took the stairs, headed for Soren’s bedroom. He wasn’t in and he had more than enough clothes, I was sure he wouldn’t miss a shirt or a pair of pants. Asking the others would mean explaining to them who I had found, and I had absolutely no explanation for acting like an idiot with a savior complex.
I ignored the scent of Soren all over the bedroom and his orgy sized bed. I slipped into his large closet quietly and I grabbed the first pair of sweatpants and a hoodie I could find, then turned to leave.
Just then, Soren’s door opened and he walked in, covered in sweat like he had been running a marathon.
I froze.
His violet gaze flicked to my hands. "What on earth are you doing, Adams?"