Chapter 27: Chapter Twenty-Seven--The Hunters Are Here

My pen scribbled over paper at jaguar worthy speed of light, maybe more.

Stream of consciousness writing was something my first shrink taught me to do, when stress got to be too much, or I needed to straighten my thoughts. A habit I’d never parted from the age of nine.

When the world becomes too much, grab a pen, and put the words on paper. No thinking. No worries if you hadn’t spelled anything correctly. Whatever your thoughts, no matter how chaotic, free-write them. Allow them to work themselves out in a constructive manner. If only he could see me now, look over my shoulder for one millisecond, read the alien sentences on the page.

One minute, I’d be on the beach, the next…

I’d be locked up. For life. When all else failed, fall back on routine. Live the routine, love it, pet it every day. Sure, I understood I was crazy. Certifiably nuts.

I reread the last paragraph I’d written.

“My mind is a dark place, where shifters survive in coexistence with humans. Somewhere along the line, I snapped. At this exact moment, I’m strapped in a hug-me jacket in a rubber room somewhere, imagining all of this. One day, I might wake up in my drug induced world, to learn my name isn’t Katrina Campbell. I wasn’t born in BF Nowhere. I’ve never been to the mountains in my life. Unfortunately, let’s be realistic. My imagination isn’t that good.”

As I’ve said, I was insane. An outsider would probably figure that out at the beginning of my story. However, shifters did exist. I could comfort myself with pretty lies, swaddled in cute little bows. I could rationalize everything I’d seen. But underneath any wrapping I slapped on, the facts stayed the same.

Kalvyn was a jaguar. I was his predetermined mate.

The lake water lapped at my calves and lower back with soothing consistency. Never failing. At least something remained normal. Once again, I read the sheet of paper, shaking my head. What if anyone ever found this?

Ripping the paper from the sticky pad, I set it on the surface and flicked the edge to float on the waves. Water seeped through the paper, blue ink spiraling outward in a series of star-burst patterns.

I climbed to my feet, achingly slow. I tossed my pad and pen over my shoulder, wading into the water, before diving under the surface, effectively cutting the world off. Yes, I was alone for a fifty-yard radius, if I was lucky. My new protectors ensured that. But further up the incline, they watched. They babysat me. Forbid I be permitted to be alone. Bianca or a bear might eat me.

Kalvyn must’ve given them orders not to leave me alone. Then again, he was up there. Somewhere. I felt him. Waiting. Always waiting. For to me come to terms. To accept my fate. I refused to talk about the revelations of this afternoon after the haze of almost sex worn off. I merely requested to go back to the familiarity of Summit Lake.

He didn’t deny me. He denied me nothing. So far.

With each stroke, I neared the center of the lake. I’d plunge deep, held my breath until my lungs burned and forced me to seek relief. The constant cleared my head, lulled my anxiety.

I kept my eyes opened underwater. To close them meant I envisioned a glorious, sleek cat with a vivid green gaze. So what? Kalvyn wasn’t human. He wasn’t yesterday. Wouldn’t be tomorrow. The fact of the matter: if I was honest with myself, how did I feel about him?

Infatuated. Engrossed with lust, and naughty thoughts every time I saw him. Craving. Need.

I surfaced. Then checked for boats. Deep breathing. Submerge. Repeat. Intrusive thoughts broke my joy while being it he water.

Gorgeousness aside, Kalvyn’s attentive manner beguiled me. His nature intrigued and excited me.

Surface. Check for boats. Deep breath. Submerge.

What about this whole marking/bonding business? A part of me, the small, insecure part, was terrified. The larger part, was innately pleased, savagely thrilled even that I had the chance to own a wild mountain cat man. Who wanted me. Desperately. Without question.

Surface. Barely breathe. Submerge.

He defied all logic and reason. His culture defied modern society on every level. And I found comfort in the aberration inside of a civilization that never accepted me in the first place. The metaphorical “fuck you and your conformist, average views” to the world.

Surface. Deep breath. Scream.

Get hit by a speed boat.