Into Their Woods (The Eerie, #1)

I stand in the bathroom, steam slowly gathering around me, feeling adrift. All I can think about is the look of elation on Perth’s and Ruger’s faces when I first woke up. Ellery screamed something about fading when he freaked out in his office after I said my head hurt. I thought he was being overdramatic. But he was talking about this.

They weren’t just shocked and happy that I was awake, they were relieved.

I sigh at that realization. The guys didn’t even know my name. Didn’t know what kind of person I was or how my presence would impact their lives. But I have no doubt that they would have done anything, given anything to ensure I made it. And if I hadn’t, they would have mourned me, felt my loss in a way the rest of the world never would.

I felt so safe that morning I woke up in their bed.

That truth got lost in the chaos of everything that came next, but I remember feeling wrapped in secure contentment. It was warm and gentle and unassuming.

I can’t recall any other time in my life where I’ve felt that way.

Somehow, I found something precious with this den of strangers after waking up from the most horrifying, insane night.

Of course the universe would throw the worst and the best things at me simultaneously and say, here, fucking catch.

I’ve spent all this time wandering. Never connecting with people, or jobs, or places. I’ve been searching aimlessly for this thing I needed but couldn’t explain or even identify. Yet here it is. It’s been waiting right here in Howling Rapids this whole time.

My wolf.

Them.

Peace.

Stripping out of Perth’s shirt, I step into the shower. I squeeze some body wash into my palm but hesitate to scrub myself clean. I don’t want to wash the scent of Perth or Gannon off me. I analyze that strange thought for a minute and then force myself to stop being weird. Soap is good, especially in a house where everyone’s noses would give a bloodhound a run for its money.

I think I hear Ellery and Ruger in the hall as I step out of the shower and dry off. I brush out my hair and toss it up in a messy bun, and then I pull on a crimson sports bra and undies, leggings, a tank, and an oversized hoodie. I shove my feet into a pair of wool socks and stand.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps running down the hall. I freeze, staring at my closed door. My heartbeat quickens as another flurry of sounds go by, like someone is rushing past my room. I hurry over and crack open my door, peeking out.

I watch and listen for a few breaths, the large hallway quiet and painted with the palate of sunset. The den’s rooms are all on the other side of the house, while this side is reserved for a few guest suites and a large office that the den seems to use at different points. I hear Ellery’s voice come from a closed door at the end of the hall. An instant later, my sock-clad feet are moving toward him without a second thought.

I suddenly need to see him.

You’d think he and Ruger had been gone for weeks with the way excitement and relief shoots through me. My new wolfy instincts are making me way too obsessive for my liking.

On a scale of one to stalker, I usually prefer to hang around a four. But with all the shit that’s been happening, I’m hovering between eight and nine. I’m fully giving into this need to cling with zero shame.

I push the door to the guest room open and am immediately inundated with the scents of fear and anguish. The sharp bite of pained longing is so overwhelming that it burns my nostrils. The hair on the nape of my neck lifts with ominous warning, and a pitiful whimper greets me as I step in.

My eyes land on two large shifters as I enter the room—a tall blond with shoulder-length hair who looks like he could easily be a Hemsworth, and a guy with worried hazel eyes and caramel brown hair that’s been pulled into a knot at the back of his head.

I don’t spot the third guy in the space until I follow the sound of a menacing growl to the shifter that’s sitting on the bed underneath the comforter, baring his teeth at Ellery. He has black curly hair that’s all over the place, and his cinnamon-colored eyes are lit with warning while his large arms gently hold a limp woman like she’s the most important thing in the world to him.

She has a light gray sheet wrapped around her, but it’s dappled with large patches of sweat. Pale ginger hair is tangled around her face, and there’s an ominous blue tint to her lips and eyelids.

I gasp as cold recognition washes over me, my stomach dropping with realization and horror.

“I know her,” I whisper, completely stunned.

Everyone’s eyes snap in my direction, everyone’s except for hers, because her gaze is trapped behind closed lids and her face is contorted in pain.

“From the diner, right?” Ellery asks, his gaze jumping from the woman to my dumbfounded face.

“Yeah, Zara. I met her at Droolies.” My shocked stare meets his as I recall how happy and bubbly she was.

Oh god. She mentioned the Hunt to me. I didn’t understand then what she was talking about, but she was so excited, and nervous.

Fuck.

She must have run in it…and now she’s here.

Now, she’s pale as death.

A weak, fluttering scent hits my nostrils, one that smells like sickness. It’s a scent that’s accompanied by a sharp taste, like biting into a clove of raw garlic, and it turns my stomach.

My shifter senses overwhelm me, and I wish for the first time since they grew stronger that I could turn them off. Especially when all of this forces me to recall how my mom had that same hollowed out look to her cheeks and blue-tinged pallor. That same smell just before—

I shut down my thoughts and clap my hand over my mouth, trying to hide the intensity of the distress amassing beneath my ribcage. But it swells until it feels like there’s no more room for my ribs, the misery causing swift jabs of pain with every breath.

I’m eleven years old again, tiptoeing silently into my mother’s room. I’ve had a nightmare, the kind only her presence can chase away. Carefully I scoot into bed next to her. She hasn’t been feeling good lately, always tired and drained. So I make sure I’m gentle and don’t wake her up. When I rest my cheek on her arm, I’m surprised by how cold it is, and that’s when I realize she’s breathing funny. Each inhale and exhale is accompanied by a scary rattling sound, and then, all of a sudden, the sound just stops.

My eyes sting as I blink the memory away.

Is she going to die?

I didn’t mean to project my thoughts, but I know that’s exactly what I’ve done when Perth strides across the room and pulls me into his chest.

Ellery tugs off his jacket and hands it to Ruger before he moves toward Zara, announcing, “Not if I can help it.”





32





NOAH





“Don’t look at her like that,” the guy from the bed snaps, his cinnamon gaze fixed angrily on me. “Don’t you dare look at her like she’s already lost. She isn’t going to die. That’s not going to happen. Don’t come in here with that fucking negativity, do you hear me?”

Ivy Asher, Ann Denton's books