Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Aubrey.
I stop dead in my tracks. There it is again. I swear it’s my name, and I swear it’s Lainey’s voice.
Is there something really out here or am I losing my mind?
I look around the swirling white, seeing lights on in the barn and the main house, which makes me feel slightly less scared. I should go back inside and get my gun. Or hell, just go back inside, lock the door, and go back to sleep because at least nightmares can’t physically harm you.
But I keep walking, heading toward the pen, toward the sound of my name that I don’t think is there at all, just a trick of the wind and snow howling off the mountains.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m ducking between the fence planks into the pen, walking out to the middle of it, my ears straining to hear more, my eyes scouring the dark pines that wave back and forth, black silhouettes against the white.
Then something catches my eye.
Makes me come to a halt.
At first it’s just a feeling, like something very bad has suddenly appeared. I can’t see it or smell it, but I can feel it. It’s the gooseflesh rippling over my skin, every hair standing on end. A feeling of heaviness in my bones, making movement seem impossible.
It is dread.
Pure fucking dread.
I’d say there’s no rhyme or reason to it, but then I see it.
There’s something by the trees on the other side of the pen. Something large and black, darker than anything else. It moves slowly with a predator’s grace, but it’s tall.
I swallow hard, my throat drying out in fear.
Is it a bear? No, too thin. A cougar or wolf? Too tall.
An abrasive snort sounds out.
It’s either a cow or a horse, and yet…it doesn’t move like either of those.
It wants to harm you. An alarm bell goes off inside me, making my breath hitch.
It wants to eat you.
I need to head back. The longer I stand here staring, trying to figure out what it is, the less safe I am. I need to run back to the cottage, lock the doors and—
Suddenly a terribly whinny sounds, sounding both like a horse and something monstrous.
The black creature leaps over the fence with a burst of raw power.
It’s in the pen with me.
I open my mouth to scream but it’s strangled in my throat, choking me.
“Aubrey!”
It’s my name again, this time coming from Jensen.
I turn my head slightly to see him running toward me from the barn but when I look back to the horse, it’s almost at me now, galloping fast, head down low, white teeth bared and eyes a haunting shade of ice blue.
Like the baby’s eyes from the dream.
I yelp again and try to move but the horse is upon me, cold eyes locked with mine.
It’s going to kill me.
The horse’s mouth snaps open and shut with a gurgling, growling sound, and lunges for me. I twist around just in time for it to bite at my side, teeth going through the robe and clamping over the skin beneath my ribs.
I scream but it’s carried by the wind and I fall to the earth in a heap, rolling out of the way just before the horse rears and stamps its hooves near my head. I stare up at it, the cold blue eyes meeting mine and I know this is it, it will stomp the life out of me.
But suddenly it snorts and pivots and starts running off in the direction it came.
“Aubrey!” Jensen yells again and suddenly he’s kneeling at my side. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I manage to say as he wraps his arms around me and hauls me up to my feet. “No. Maybe.” I look up at him, pressed against his warm chest as he quickly looks me over before his attention goes back to the trees. “What the fuck just happened?”
He gives his head a shake. “Feral horse.”
“More like rabid fucking horse,” I tell him. “He bit me.”
Jensen’s gaze is sharp as it returns to mine, his eyes widening slightly in fear. “Bit you? Where?”
“My side.”
“Fuck,” he swears. “Come on, let’s get you looked at.”
He keeps his arm around me as he leads me toward the barn. I want to tell him I’m fine, that I can walk, but there’s something about the strength of his arm that makes me think he might be holding me together.
We get to the barn and he leads me into the office, flicking on the lights and standing me against the wall for balance. He goes to a drawer and takes out a first aid kit, putting it down on the desk, then comes back to me.
“Take off your shirt,” he says.
I stare at him, my face scrunched up in confusion and pain. “What?”
“I need to see the wound. Take off your shirt.” His voice is as gruff as ever, his expression grave.