Chapter 17 · The King and His Lock

"Get your hands off me!" I snarled, wrenching against Kane's grip.

He slammed my wrist against a cedar trunk before I could pull free. Bark scraped my back. His other hand braced beside my head, trapping me between the tree and his heat.

"Quiet." His face hovered inches from mine. "We're not alone."

A deep beat rolled through the woods.

Once.

Twice.

The ground trembled under my boots.

Kane's fingers tightened around my wrist. His gold eyes flashed in the gray mist.

"What the hell is that?" I whispered.

"Something that followed your blood."

The drumming came again, closer this time.

My breath caught. The air smelled of wet soil, iron, and something rotten enough to coat my tongue.

"Justin said there were hunters," I said. "He never said anything about—whatever that is."

"Justin doesn't know what he's talking about."

"You keep saying that like it's helpful."

Kane leaned closer, his breath brushing my cheek. His voice dropped to a dangerous murmur.

"Hunters track prey. This thing scavenges what's left behind."

"Left behind by what?"

His gaze slid toward the trees.

"Us, if you keep shouting."

I tried to shove him away.