To Run with the Wild Hunt (MONSTERS OF FAERY #4.5) by Mallory Dunlin EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors:Mallory Dunlin
- Language: English
- Genre: Paranormal / Sci-Fi
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 6.1 MB
- Price: Free
Mistakes Were Made
Alexis Sharpe
I thought the most dangerous thing I’d encounter in the Irish countryside
was a Londoner on vacation.
I was wrong.
I pressed one hand to my side as I skidded down the wet, grassy slope,
the stitch in my side screaming with pain and every harsh breath tearing at
my throat. The rolling hills spread out in every direction, endless green
painted silver by the light of the moon, but I didn’t have time to enjoy the
scenery. I had to run, had to get away—couldn’t die like this.
The voices of the hounds howled somewhere behind me, but I didn’t dare
to look back. There were no seconds to waste searching the horizon for the
man I’d seen pointing his spear at me; no footsteps I could afford to
misplace while throwing terrified glances over my shoulder at the black
beasts and red eyes.
I shouldn’t have parked my fucking car a full mile away from the manor
I’d been robbing, but there were cameras along the drive and I hadn’t
expected to be cut off from my getaway vehicle by the fucking Wild Hunt.
And a curvy girl like me really wasn’t made for running.
The wire fence caught me at the hips and sent me flipping over it, tail
over teakettle, my body ricocheting down the slope. I didn’t have time to
rest, and I staggered up to my feet before my vision cleared. The night
seemed to be getting brighter to all my senses. The stars burned with
dangerous clarity and the scents of the earth were broad and inviting
beneath the sharp smell of fear-sweat, but I didn’t have time to ponder the
mystery. I veered to the right, splashing down the rill, some tiny piece of
my mind remembering that you could throw animals off the trail with water.
It was useless. My scent didn’t matter to them. They were running me
down like a deer on the open plain, chasing me until my lungs collapsed
and I died with blood bubbling out of my nostrils.
Something about that thought – running me down like a deer – stuck in
my thoughts as the night grew lighter and my feet found the ground more
easily. I couldn’t shake it any more than I could shake the image of the
antlered figure silhouetted against the sky, but I couldn’t think, couldn’t
think, had to keep running.
My ankle twisted underneath me, a rock slipping out from underfoot in
the treacherous wet, and I went down again, my hand catching my weight
with a shock of pain. I scrambled to get my foot under me, planting my
hands on the ground with the space between my middle and ring fingers
splayed wide. Then I caught a look at my foot, and horror slashed into me
like broken glass.
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