Unnatural Instinct: Blood Run

20.

You slow to a walk, the pain in your feet quickly catching up with your racing mind. The trees crowd around you as you stagger and lurch, tears pouring down your cheeks. You swipe them away, angry at yourself. You shouldn't be crying. You should be running!

Your feet slap through puddles. Leaves shower you in water as you push through branches. The forest is eerily quiet, the monkeys doubtless taking shelter against the spitting rain. Your hair is plastered to your head. Your skin is covered in goose bumps. Now that the panic has worn off, you can feel the air's icy chill burying into your muscles.

You turn with a gasp at the sound of a snapping stick. You freeze, listening hard for several moments, but whatever it is, it isn't what was once your mate.

What was once your mate. You bite your lip tearfully.

It doesn't ease your fear. You know he's going to find you, just like every time before. Perhaps you should take a leaf out of his book. You try to snap off a branch but any that's thick enough to be useful as a weapon withstands your strength. It doesn't help that your muscles have seized up and your fingers are numb.

You look around you, unwilling to give up, before finally picking up a large, heavy rock. You shiver as you look over your shoulder, recalling the shocking incident. Despite all he's done to you, you hadn't thought him capable of such a thing. He's killed his own kind. He is a murderer! And you can't help but wonder as you gaze down at your rock: Could you really do the same thing to him? You are the same species, after all. You must have that same violent streak in some deep, dark place you've never dared explore before. If you've learned anything over the past few days, it's that you're more similar to his kind than you've ever thought possible.

You remember how you licked him. You remember how you stroked and touched him and ached to have him inside you.

You turn your face away, trying to forget. The rock weighs down your arms and you quickly realise that it's much too heavy to be of any real use. So you replace it with one that fits into your hand. It's jagged on one side. You stroke its sharp tip with your thumb.

The rain has started to clear by the time he catches up with you. Like before, you sense him before you hear him. Your skin prickles. Your heart lurches. You turn around.

And there he is, watching you between the leaves. He steps towards you, revealing himself fully. He's still blood-spattered, made worse by the rain. Red water drips from his nose and trickles down his abdomen. Clots of it even stick to the hair of his groin.

You step away, hiding the rock behind your back. 'You stay away from me.'

He frowns. 'Cold.'

You're shivering, your teeth chattering, but it's not from the cold. 'No.'

He looks you up and down. 'Hurt?'

'No. How—' you lick your lips '—how could you do that?'

His frown deepens as he pulls his fingers through his wet beard. 'Help.'

'You didn't have to kill him! What is ... what is wrong with you?'

He shakes his head. Holding out his hands, he takes a step towards you.

'Stop!'

He doesn't listen.

'Stop! Or I'll ...' You raise the jagged rock. 'Don't come any closer.'

He pauses in his approach, looking at the rock, then at you as he lowers his arms. You're breathing heavily and your hand is so numb you hardly feel the rock at all.

His eyebrows lower over his gaze. He shakes his head as he pounds his fist to his chest. 'Love.'

'No.'

'Help.' He points at you.

You shake your head, taking another step back. 'You're a ... you're a monster! You didn't need to do that. You didn't need to kill him.'

Shaking his head again, he takes another step towards you. Then another. 'Stop,' you say, thrusting out your empty hand. Your mind tells you to swing the rock, but your arm remains frozen in the air. 'Stop,' you mumble as he continues with his approach. The rock slips from your limp fingers. 'Stop,' you whisper as he takes you in his arms.

What is wrong with you? Fight him. Fight him. It's no use; all you do is sag. He holds you against him, your hips pressed up against his as your back arches over his arm. You're completely flaccid as he holds you up with his astonishing strength. You stare up into the canopy as he lowers his face into your breasts. With a little whine that fills your eyes with tears, he rubs himself against them.

You grab at his head, knotting your fingers in his hair as you will yourself to yank him away, only to fail, simply holding him as he begins lapping at your nipples. You gasp as he wraps his mouth around your right breast.

You're sticky. You're wet. You're hot. Your heart pounds but no longer in fear.

What's wrong with you? All thought has fled. You can't move. When he picks you up, you don't resist, lying uselessly in his arms as you gaze up at him. Blood drips from his beard but it doesn't disgust you. More trickles down his arms from the ends of his hair but you think nothing of it. You try to recall why you ought to hate him.

Nothing. Your mind is blank. All you know is the burning between your legs and the warmth in your chest. Something's happening. Who are you? Where are you? How did you get here?

Does it matter? You touch his chest, curling your fingers through his hairs. He lowers his face to look at you and his hazel eyes have never seemed so bright. Those little gold flecks almost seem to sparkle. He speaks to you. And for the first time you can understand him. His grunts and growls, once so empty and animalistic, suddenly start to make sense.

You're safe with him. He's telling you not to fear. It's so startling a tear trickles down your cheek.

The rain starts to ease. By the time you reach the shelter, the sun is drifting brightly between the clouds. After easing you back to your feet he turns to the little stream and starts washing himself off. You watch him for a while, feeling numb, then eventually turn your eyes to the rest of the scene. You blink. Everything seems so different, like you're experiencing it all though somebody else's senses. You can see things, smell things, hear things; things that you've never noticed before. There are so many smells on the air. You can smell yourself. You can smell him. You look above at the sound of flapping wings, only to see empty sky, the birds high up and hidden behind the clouds.

Impossible.

You look down at your feet and twist them in the grass. The ground is wet and yet it has never felt so warm. It seems to vibrate through your soles: earthworms, grubs, ants—you can feel their rapid, busy movements. The ground vibrates harder again against the thudding of his footsteps. It seems so impossibly loud in your ears.

You lift your face to his. 'What's happening to me?' You clutch at your throat. Your voice doesn't sound right. It doesn't sound like yours at all. And the words—though they make sense in your brain, seem so queer and are hard to understand out loud.

He grunts: Don't be afraid.

You tighten your hand around your throat as you grunt back: I'm so afraid.

Smiling, he pulls you into his arms.