Whispers of Winter

5

Jo

Carter was screaming.

The man still hadn't stopped staring at me.

I couldn't feel my feet. I couldn't feel my hands. I couldn't feel anything besides the blood pumping through my head, the man's hand on my arm, and the intensity of the man's gaze.

I wasn't sure I was breathing.

Naomi and Ed's bodies screamed at me. They consumed my vision. The deep, scarlet red drenching their necks seared itself into my brain. I didn't think I could look away even if I tried.

Naomi's eyes were still open. If Ed's were, I couldn't see them; four ugly, deep gashes cut across his face, mutilating his features beyond recognition. Whatever had cut him had slashed through to his skull, leaving shallow gauges carved into his bone. I didn't want to think about what was strong or sharp enough to do it.

Both of their throats were so, so red. I could hardly see anything through the carnage of loose skin and glimmering scarlet blood, but the vacant space in the shredded remains of their necks told me enough. Their throats had been ripped straight out.

Ryan was shouting and tugging at my arm. Carter was still screaming.

The man hadn't moved. He was silent and covered in my friends' blood and holding me in place in front of him. The blood on his hand was smearing on the sleeve of my jacket.

His hand was warm.

He was covered in the blood of my friends – who he definitely murdered – and there was still enough room in my mind to think about how warm his hand was.

Something was wrong with me.

The man's eyes finally left me, dragging to Carter. Something within them shifted, something dark and damning, and Carter ceased screaming with a choked gasp. I heard her stumble back into a wall somewhere behind me, sobbing wetly. The man kept his eyes on her for another breath, and then they slid back to me, and everything dark within them that had gathered when he looked at Carter, vanished.

The ground beneath my feet disappeared. His hand on my arm and his eyes on mine were the only things tethering me to the earth. My heartbeat slowed. My head stopped spinning. Something warm and stronger than anything I could muster within myself simmered in my belly, spreading through my chest.

Ryan tugged at my arm again, and my momentary euphoria collapsed as fast as it had built. The man's grip on my arm slipped, and my heart skipped a beat.

A . . . growl? escaped the man in front of me, and he snatched my sleeve and tugged me free of Ryan's hold, pulling me closer. Ryan stumbled after me, but the man blocked his path, tugging me behind him and stepping in front of me. I pressed myself to the door, holding my breath. Naomi and Ed's bodies left a glaring red mark in the corner of my eye, demanding to be stared at, but I stared determinedly at the back of the man's head. Carter was staring at me, wide-eyed, cowering against the kitchen doorway.

"You lay one fucking finger on her and you join your pack."

A cold shiver rang down my spine. The man's words were laced with primal protectiveness and authority. Not a threat; a promise.

Ryan swallowed thickly, and he clenched his fist in the open space between us, then, slowly, drew it back to his side. The man watched him carefully, still gripping my arm, and lifted his chin.

"Talk."

It took me a moment to realize he'd spoken to Ryan. I shifted my weight to peer at him from around the man's back, and the man's grip on my arm tightened slightly, sensing the movement. His grip verged on painful, but, when I winced, it instantly loosened. His thumb rubbed over my arm, just once. An . . . apology?