Chaser (2nd Book of the Supernatural Hunters)

The Diner

*A/N: My dear readers; I am not dead! I apologize profusely! I did not expect to take this long in updating! Junior year has turned out to be much harder than I expected, so much so that it's taken me away from my passion: writing. As I've said before, I can't promise a specific updating schedule, only a hope that I can pull through for you guys and update as much as I can! I hope y'all will enjoy this chapter :D. For those of you who read Hunter, prepare for a surprise!*

*Minor Swearing!*

For about the millionth time that day, my stomach growls, signaling the hunger I'm feeling. Attempting to hide it from Ryker, I curl up into myself, pushing my body further into the seat. It proves to have been in vain when Ryker glances at me, an unreadable emotion plastered to his face.

I can't say for sure how long we've been out on the road. Ryker claims I was unconscious for at least the beginning half, but knowing him in these few days, his judgment skills are horrible. Therefore, I don't remember the last time I've eaten. That's what leads me to this position now, my famished body desperately avoiding any thoughts of food.

A body that happens to be in severe pain. Ever since leaving the house, I haven't had a chance to wrap my wound, only to wash it quickly. Glancing down, I observe the bubbled scar, the tissue around the thin scab inflamed. It seems to be getting worse everyday. Could it possibly be the curse? Does it physically affect me before the full moon?

With a sigh, I shift in the seat and lean against the warm window. It completely slipped my mind, the whole me dying in less then a month thing.

When the car stops moving, I gaze up with a curious face. From the corner of my eye, Ryker is scrutinizing me, his eyes looking over the laceration on my arm.

Quickly, I twist around to glance outside the window. A diner meets my eyes, an old fashioned atmosphere surrounding it. Through the dusty windows, a few people are seen to be littered through the place. Timidly, I look over to Ryker with questioning orbs.

"What are we doing?"

Ryker rolls his eyes. "Obviously we're stopping to eat."

As he speaks, he flings the door open to exit, but I place a hand on his arm to stop him. Openly, I scan my eyes over his disheveled appearance, signifying to him that he is no condition to appear in a diner without arising suspicion. Dried blood blotches his skin and clothes, dirt smudged here and there. Rips are located across his shirt, similar to scratch marks.

Ryker takes notice at what I'm hinting to and he cracks a smile. Leaving the door open, he leans back and grabs the duffel bag, dragging it up to the front. With quick work, he digs through the bag until pulling out a first aid kit and a spare shirt.

As he's about to open the kit, I speak up, halting his actions. "Wait, let me. You'll miss spots if you do it yourself."

At first hesitant, he hands the kit over and stares at me expectantly. A faint blush arises to my cheeks and I sheepishly turn away.

"You have to take off your shirt. Your wounds will get infected if I don't clean them all."

"Yeah, but they've been like this since we've left and they still haven't been-"

"Just shut up and do as I say," I mutter, growing aggravated with his protesting.

Ryker sighs and pulls off his destroyed shirt, his muscles rippling with the motions. Red threatens to burst out across my features, but I'm some how able to hold it back (at least somewhat) and pull out disinfectant to dab across the multiple lacerations covering his skin.

As I'm rubbing the cotton cloth across his already scabbed wounds, dried blood scrapes off, causing moans of pain to erupt from the male. And at every bruise, he hisses his breath through his teeth, seemingly trying his best from showing any "weakness".