Unnatural Instinct: Free

9.

You turn from Derrick, whose legs you can see sticking from around the corner of the hut, back to the monster. You look up at him beggingly.

He frowns, then snarls, baring perfect white teeth. Shaking his head, he wrenches his arm out of your grasp, then seizes your wrist, hauling you along behind him.

You could almost cry.

Despite his injuries he's so fast and you stumble along in his wake. Quickly, you race past the huts, your heart thudding in your throat, your eyes flicking all about as you search for any potential witnesses. But the village remains dead.

You stifle a cry as you stumble over a rock. You wrench against his grip as you try to keep your balance. He gives a frustrated growl as he continues to drag you along. At the distant sound of a door closing shut, you both burst into a run.

You dare not look behind. Your feet thud loudly against the ground. Your heart thuds even more loudly in your ears. The forest is growing larger and taller. Come on. Come on. Come one.

Then you're in!

The trees arch overhead and the sky and all its luminous moonlight drowns into darkness. You feel better now, safer, but the monster does not slow his pace, weaving through the trees, being careful not to bang his wings against the trunks or scrape them against branches. How he can see so well is a mystery as you stagger along behind him, his hand still fastened around your wrist.

After what feels like ages, after hearing no one chasing you, after knowing only the pain of your aching body, you can't take anymore. You need a rest. Your thighs are screaming in pain. Your ankles are in agony, sprained and no doubt swollen after twisting them between roots and stumbling over logs and rocks and all sorts of debris. Your throat aches against the coldness of the air as you struggle to catch your breath. 'Stop!' you croak.

He doesn't hear against the snapping of branches—or doesn't listen.

'Stop!' you cry more clearly.

He does and turns towards you, his mouth curved into a sneer. 'Stop and we die.'

Your eyes widen. 'So, you can talk.'

Releasing your wrist, he turns away to continue with his journey.

'Wait!' You hurry after him but trip over and fall flat on your face. Gasping for breath, you roll over onto your back.

Sticks snap beneath heavy feet as he returns. He looks down on you, his mouth still twisted in a snarl. 'Enough of human weakness. We must go.'

'I can't. So tired.'

He gives a growl of frustration. Before you can protest, before you can do anything at all, he suddenly sweeps you up into his arms and slaps you over your shoulder like you weigh nothing. Like you mean nothing.

It doesn't bother you. All you care about is getting away from the village, and from Derrick, as far and as fast as possible. And he is fast! Despite your added weight, he charges through the trees. All you can do is gaze numbly at his muscular arse. His wings arch over you, black and sinister and frightening.

You can't know how long he runs for but it's long enough for the press of the hard bone of his shoulder to really begin hurting your abdomen. The blood rushing to your head makes you dizzy and sick to your stomach. Fortunately, he soon stops before you vomit down his back. You suck in a breath as he slides you to your feet.

Dizzy, you grab onto his shoulder to steady yourself, only for him to thrust you away with a snarl. 'Don't touch me.'

Stumbling, you snap back, 'Fine!'

You glare at each other. Even as your heart beats madly in your chest, even as you hate him for not appreciating the risk you've taken, you struggle to keep your eyes from wandering. The muscle, the size, the height; his narrow hips and broad shoulders. His thighs are long and ropey. His biceps bulge to a size you've never thought possible. His ribs slide under the big muscles in his sides as he pants. And he being so much bigger than an ordinary man, so much more intimidating. He wouldn't need a gun to destroy his enemies. Only his big hands and strong fingers. And his wings—they sit high over his shoulders, making him seem bigger still.

A formidable enemy. Little wonder the men think him a monster.

You've never felt so small and vulnerable before, not even around Derrick, and you can't help but wonder about your foolishness. Were things so terrible back in the village that it was smart to take such a risk?

The answer is obvious: Yes. Yes they were.

Moonlight filters through the canopy in streams, illuminating his dark skin and his gleaming eyes. Where has he come from? Where does he live? Has he truly been stealing and eating children?

Your eyes can't help but drop between his legs. You're not particularly fond of the male appendage, especially after having Derrick shove it in your face so many times. But this one's ... different. For a start it's completely hairless—he's completely hairless—and it's long and thick, even as limp as it is. Derrick's was always small before he became aroused. You didn't think they could be so different.

The monster clears his throat. Startled, you fix your eyes back on his face, heat filling your cheeks. 'What-what do we do now?'

His shoulders sag as he hunches over. 'Rest.' Then he slumps to his backside, his back up against the tree as he presses a hand to his gunshot wound with a grunt. 'Water.'

You nod. 'I-I can do that.'

He watches you as you slowly back away. Then you turn and disappear into the trees. Briefly, you take a moment to gather yourself, your hands braced on your knees as you gasp for breath.

What have you done?