Untamed: The Savage: The Complete Series (8 page)

W
hen Chloe came
out of the cabin, clean and unhurt, I was finally able to breathe. I didn’t know how I would have handled it if she had been injured.

When I finally tore my eyes away from her face, I noticed her luggage. And I finally understood that this was it. The end.

Chloe looked up into the trees, searching for me, and whether she knew it or not, for one second, our eyes met across the way.

I’d known this day would come. She had told me five days and nothing more. But to watch her get into that car, holding the flowers I’d collected for her, hurt more than a black bear attack. It was a snake bite, the poison seeping deeper into my body, shutting down my organs one by one.

I turned away, clawing at my chest to get to the sharp ache inside. I never knew anything could hurt so badly.

A
laric
, the myth, the serial killer, the thief, the lover.

I’d left him behind. It was a good decision, the only sane thing I’d done since renting that cabin in North Carolina.

But if I had truly done the right thing, why did my mind keep wandering back into that forest, the fingers of my thoughts reaching into the black of the caves for him? If I was better off leaving him in the heart of the Smoky Mountains, why couldn’t I stop wishing to return?

“
Hello
, Chloe? Anybody home?” Anna snapped her fingers in front of my face, bringing me back to the present, to my white couch where I shared a carton of Ben & Jerry’s
with my best friend.

I blinked a few times and gave her a chastened smile. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“You’re
thinking
a lot lately.”

I shrugged and took a spoonful of ice cream. I waited until it melted on my tongue before speaking again. “I can’t help it. Every time I turn around I see Alaric, but it’s not really him, you know? It’s like he’s a ghost and he’s haunting me.”

“Look, I’m not saying you can’t think about him. But it’s been two weeks, Chloe. They’ve probably already caught him and locked him up. It’s no use pining over an asshole.”

“One, I’m not pining. And two, he wasn’t an asshole.” I bristled, feeling strangely defensive.

“Hate to break it to you, but killing people is kind of an asshole move.”

“But he was nothing but gentle with me. He caught a damn fish for me because I can’t eat red meat.”

“So he’s a nice serial killer. The perfect package.”

I ignored her sarcasm. “Besides, they haven’t caught him. I’ve been keeping track of the news in Bryson City and the surrounding towns. If he’d been caught it would be front page news.”

Anna raised a cynical eyebrow.

“You don’t understand, he’s a legend in those parts. A man who’s so mysterious he’s become a myth. They tell stories about him around campfires, that he’s a werewolf, a ghost. Nobody’s seen him. Nobody but me.” A little thrill shot up my stomach, a little burp of excitement knowing I alone knew the truth behind the myth.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just call the police yourself,” she said, pointing her teaspoon at me. “It’s obvious to anyone that you had Stockholm Syndrome. You’re not going to get in trouble if you turn him in.”

I shook my head. Despite it all, the thought of betraying Alaric made me want to vomit. “And if I’m wrong and he was actually telling the truth? I’ll sentence an innocent man to death.” My chest physically hurt at the thought.

Anna stared at me for a long time, finally taking the higher road and shutting her mouth. We had talked this subject to death, had gone over all the scenarios, and she knew by now nothing could make me call the police.

We turned our attention back to the show on the television, both lost in our thoughts. Anna was right: I
was
pining. Had been since I got back to the city over two weeks ago.

“Let’s go dancing,” I said without thinking.

Anna choked on her ice cream. “You want to what?”

I almost burst out laughing at Anna’s expression. “Don’t act like I just suggested we go rob a bank. I said we should go out dancing.”

“Yeah, but for you, who’s never even stepped foot inside a bar let alone a dance club, it’s one and the same.”

I motioned around us. “Well here we are, two single girls on a Saturday night, marathoning Gilmore Girls
again
. It’s kind of sad. We need a change.”

She shrugged and dug into the carton of Ben & Jerry’s. “It’s what us good girls do.”

I stood up, my limbs filled with kinetic energy. I needed to move, to find an outlet for it. Maybe it was the excess sugar from the ice cream, or maybe it was a revolt from years of being prim and ladylike. “Who said we were good girls anyway?” I asked, tugging on Anna’s hands until she too was standing. “Let’s be bad tonight.”

“Do you even have it in you to be bad? You’re the Senator’s goody-two-shoes daughter.”

“Tonight I’m not.” I slung my arm around her shoulder. “So are you in or not?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. You’re my ride or die bitch.”

“Do you even know what that means?” Anna asked, laughing. I gave her the pout. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

A
n hour
and a half later we stood in line to a club we’d found on
Yelp
, of all places. Anna said it had good reviews. I didn’t really care as long as it served alcohol and afforded me a night to forget everything.

As soon as we got inside I ordered us a pair of shots and long island iced teas.

“Don’t get drunk too fast,” Anna said, eyeing the line of glasses in front of us. “I don’t want to spend the whole night holding your hair back in the bathroom.”

I downed my shot without hesitation. “Isn’t that what bad girls do?”

We danced. The alcohol seeped quickly into my veins and wound its way through my system, loosening my limbs and the vines around my heart. It felt good to let go, to not give a damn what people thought. For the first time since my return, I felt a slice of the freedom I’d experienced with Alaric.

“You having fun?” Anna mouthed to me.

“Hell yes!” I threw my hands up and let out a laughing kind of shout, a battle cry of sorts. My head spun and I wasn’t entirely sure if I had control of all my motor functions—I might have accidentally backhanded the guy dancing behind me—but I was beyond caring.

Anna, too, looked to be having fun. Until she stopped and fixed her narrowed eyes at something behind me.

“What?” Goosebumps rose on my arms as I turned to follow her gaze. But at the last minute, she grabbed my shoulders and turned me back around.

“No. You were having such a great time,” she said, her eyes wide.

I struggled out of her hold, needing to see. “Is it—?”

I spun around and saw Ethan, the man who had given me a laundry list of my flaws before breaking my heart. Once upon a time I might have been filled with regret and longing, but not tonight. Tonight I was too numb to care.

“Fuck him.” I showed him my back and threw my arms around Anna. “Come on, let’s go get another drink.”

E
than was first to approach
, joining us at the table at the edge of the room a little while later.

“Ladies,” Ethan said with a smile; that dimpled, practiced look that used to make me swoon. Tonight it made me want to gag. “It’s good to see you.”

“Wish we could say the same about you,” Anna said.

“Can I have a few minutes with Chloe?” he asked, never taking his eyes off me.

Anna glanced at me and I nodded. She descended from the barstool. “I’m going to the restroom.” She gave me a look. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.” Ethan didn’t bother sitting down. He just leaned down and set his elbows on the table.

I steeled myself and looked up at Ethan’s handsome, patrician face. “What do you want?” I asked, casually taking a sip of my drink, the third of the night.

He took me by surprise and gave me a kiss on the cheek, the smell of his cologne swirling around me and reminding me of times past. “I’m kind of shocked to see you here. It doesn’t seem like your type of establishment.”

I leaned away in case he was planning any other sneak attacks. “Well, apparently, you know nothing about me.”

He grinned. “We dated for a long time. I think I know a little about you.”

“Dated?” I was sure my eyes were flashing, getting ready to shoot lasers. “Is that you what you call our three years together?”

He took Anna’s seat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to fight.”

“Then why are you here?” I asked. “I was enjoying myself before you came along.”

He touched my elbow, a familiar touch. I yanked my arm back. “Your father called me when you went missing in North Carolina. I was getting ready to drive up there myself when you were found.”

“My father told you?” I asked dubiously. I’d thought my father had wanted to keep the incident a secret to prevent a scandal. The media would have had a field day if they’d caught wind of the Senator’s daughter getting lost—possibly kidnapped and murdered—in the mountains.

“He thought I should know.”

“I didn’t know you two were still in touch.” My father had liked and approved of Ethan when we were dating, but I’d thought all ties had been cut at the end of our relationship. Apparently not.

He set a hand on my thigh and squeezed. “I just wanted to say I’m glad you’re safe.”

I lifted his hand from my leg and threw it aside. “Sarah—you know, your fiancée?—would not approve,” I said with disdain. I finished my drink and stood up, spotting Anna across the room. “Bye, Ethan,” I said and walked back out to the dance floor.

T
he next night
found me at a cocktail party to celebrate the engagement of the daughter of one of my father’s friends. This was the fourth or fifth event—I’d lost track of how many—since my return. It should have been comforting to know that nothing had changed in my old life, yet here I was, standing in a sea of people, feeling adrift more than anything.

But I still had a part to play, so I made the rounds and made the necessary small talk with people. Socializing had once come easily to me, the art of social grace taught to me by the best professionals my father’s money could afford, but tonight every word took thought, every smile took effort. I had to expend real energy to kiss cheeks and exchange pleasantries with people I’d known most of my life. When someone talked about the newest car or thousand-dollar bag, I found my mind wandering.

After I’d said hello to everyone, I took my drink and wandered around the mansion alone, sighing in relief when I left the noise behind. I walked through the enormous designer kitchen and found the back door. I stepped out on to the back porch, welcoming the darkness and solitude that enveloped me.

I leaned my elbows against the railing and closed my eyes, breathing in the fresh air. I imagined I could almost hear a wolf howl.

This moment of peace, however, was cut short.

“May I join you?”

I turned around and found Ethan stepping out from the back door, wearing a tailored suit, looking like a model stepping off the runway. But for all his good looks, he was the last person I wanted to see. “I was just about to go back inside,” I said, trying my best to be polite. His father was still the Chief of Police and my father’s staunchest ally, after all.

“Hey Chloe?” he said before I could leave.

I sighed, feeling the start of a headache between my eyebrows. “Yes?”

“I know I’m not your favorite person right now—”

I snorted, not at all ladylike and not at all sorry for it.

“But I need a favor,” he said. “I just moved to a new apartment in Midtown South. I could use your decorating expertise.”

“Oh.” I tried to think of a reason to refuse and quickly found one. “Wouldn’t your fiancée object?”

“No.” He looked down at the drink in his hand for a few moments then back up to me. “Will you do it?”

I contemplated this man I’d once thought I’d marry, and wondered if I could work with him and the woman he left me for. Hell, a month ago just the idea of seeing them together forced me to flee to a cabin in the middle of nowhere. How would I do seeing their home day after day, knowing she had taken my place? “I don’t think so, Ethan. Sorry.”

“How about this,” he said quickly. “Just come over and look around. Decide if you want to take the job.”

I sighed. Because I was a sucker, I said, “Okay. I’ll take a look.”

T
he next day
I arrived at the Skylane Apartments, a modern high-rise building made of metal and glass in the trendy side of Midtown. As I rode the elevator I prepared myself, switching to designer mode.

Ethan greeted me at the door of his fourth floor apartment. “Chloe.” He stepped aside and held out his hand, inviting me in.

I went inside and examined the sparsely decorated space. Dark wood floors, exposed cement ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows. Clean, modern.

Ethan walked up behind me. “What do you think?”

“It’s a very masculine space,” I said, looking around. “We’ll have to add feminine touches to soften it up a bit, add more color for Sarah.” I almost chuckled to myself. A month, a week, hell, a day ago, I would never have thought I’d be here mentally decorating an apartment for the man I thought I’d marry and the woman
he
wanted to marry. It wasn’t easy, but for the first time in two weeks my thoughts weren’t on an alleged serial killer. Lesser of two evils and all of that.

Ethan stepped around in front of me, one hand wrapped around the back of his neck. “Actually, about that,” he said with a sheepish smile. “Sarah and I are done.”

I opened my lips to express my sympathy but only a soft “Oh” came out.

He let out a long breath. “She and I were just too different. We didn’t really belong together.”

I looked down at my shoes, unable to speak.

“Not like you and me.”

My eyes flew back up to his face, searching for the truth.

He let out a nervous chuckle at my expression. “You don’t agree?”

I turned away, walking over to the bank of windows overlooking the street, still mulling over what to say. “I believe you said I was too much work,” I said, turning back to him.

“I did say that. But the other night at the club I saw a different side to you. And I realized how wrong I was to judge you so harshly.”

“No, you were right,” I found myself saying. “That girl you broke up with was a naive control freak. That much is true. But that girl’s gone. I lost her in the mountains of North Carolina.”

He came to stand in front of me, lightly touching my elbows. “I’d like to get to know you, if you’ll let me,” he said. “Will you let me take you to your father’s fundraising gala?”

I turned my eyes to the street below, a hurricane of emotions inside me, messing up what I’d already organized. I had already placed him in a neat little box and sealed it shut, and now he wanted me to open it back up.

I gasped when my eyes landed on the sidewalk below, on a tall man with long hair and dark eyes looking up at me. Every nerve in my body came alive in response, goosebumps blooming over my skin.

“Chloe?”

I forced my eyes to Ethan, to ground myself in reality, and turned back to the street below. But the man was gone.

“Are you all right?” Ethan asked.

I blinked once, twice, and tried to steady my erratic heartbeat. “Yeah.” I looked at the street again. “Ethan, I have to go,” I said, hurrying to the door.

“I’ll call you later,” he said, but I was already heading out and down the stairs, bursting out onto the sidewalk. But Alaric was not there. It was nothing but another ghost following me around.

I
felt
off the rest of the day, the shock of seeing those haunting dark eyes lingering in my system. I knew it hadn’t been Alaric—I
knew
that
on an intellectual level—but the need was so fierce, I could almost make myself believe it was him.

And then the guilt snuck in, reminding me that I was pining for a cold-blooded killer, someone who murdered people with his bare hands and then lied convincingly about it. It was wrong on all levels to want him, but I couldn’t help it if I tried.

Alaric had unlocked something in me, had freed me in so many ways, and for that and many other things, I had fallen in love with him.

“I am so screwed up,” I told my reflection in the mirror that night. After brushing my teeth I tied my hair back and bent over to wash my face. Behind my eyelids a memory came to me unbidden, of washing my face at the foot of a waterfall, of a man’s deep voice telling me I was beautiful.

It was during that moment, when my eyes were still shut, that a strange feeling washed over me. There was no noise, no movement, but I suddenly felt a solid, warm presence behind me. I hurried to wash the soap off my face and opened my eyes.

Nothing. Nobody.

I let out a shuddering breath, my stomach still trembling. “It’s official: I’m losing it,” I said with a humorless laugh. “Alaric is not here. He never will be.”

I padded to my bedroom, not bothering to turn on any lights. These days I preferred the darkness, felt more comfortable in the shadows.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I caught some movement by the window. I froze, my eyes pinned to the dark area by the curtains. A shadow bled away from the walls and moved in front of the window, a massive silhouette of a man.

I couldn’t blink, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even breathe.

This isn’t real. He’s not really here.

But the form kept moving, getting larger and larger as it advanced towards me.

“You’re not real,” I said out loud.

The shadow smiled, his teeth visible in the dark. “I am.”