GONE

Ricky was dreaming of the Hunt. He was in the forest, chasing Liv, adrenaline pounding, the snap and jab of branches only making his breath come harder, lust and excitement tingeing the forest red.

He could see her ahead, naked, the chain around her neck glittering in the moonlight. Hell, he swore he could smell her, her own excitement and adrenaline pulsing from her like threads that threatened to break each time she rounded a tree and disappeared from sight, and he’d barrel forward, fear licking through him, fear that he’d lose her, and when he spotted her again, that relief mingled with a fresh surge of resolve, and he’d find a little extra speed, determined to catch her before she . . .

Disappeared.

He slowed. Liv had darted around a big oak ahead, and when she hadn’t reappeared, he thought it was his line of sight, but now he’d come around the tree and found himself staring into empty forest.

He weaved one way and then the other. She had to be there. She never went far. This was a chase, not hide-and-seek. That’s what he hungered for and she knew it, as she always knew, absolutely and instinctively. So if she was gone . . .

His heart jolted so hard pain shot through his chest.

No, it’s a mistake. She misjudged and thought I was closer. She’ll realize it any second now, as she looks back to laugh, to grin, to tease . . .

But the forest stayed silent. No questioning cry. Not even the thump of running feet.

“Liv?” he called.

His heart thudded again, and he gritted his teeth against it. Unreasonable fear. Ungrounded fear. Yet he couldn’t help it. If he woke in the night and saw her side of the bed empty, he’d scramble up, dread filling him, a black wave of it that stole his breath, until he’d hear the flush of the toilet or the pad of her footsteps, and he’d sink down again, closing his eyes so she wouldn’t see the lingering fear. He’d wait until she crawled back into bed and move against her, as if in sleep, his heart slowing only when he felt her there, nestled against him.

“Liv?” he called. Then, “Olivia!”

His voice thundered through the forest, and even after it died away, he swore he could hear the four syllables of her name, pounding like hoofbeats. Then it was actual hooves. The ground shook with them, seeming to come from every direction.