Left for Wild - Harloe Rae Page 0,12
bearings isn’t necessary. Once that injection plunged into my veins, I was at the mercy of all powers that be. It’s somewhat of a surprise that I woke up at all. The skyward view of solid forest explains why.
Where in the frozen hell did they dump me?
Nowhere civilized, that’s for certain. A frigid snarl in the air cracks across my face. The slab of ice I’m sitting on guarantees that my temper can’t overheat. All that greets me are evergreens and silence. It appears that I’ve managed to be released from one prison only to land my ass in a more lethal one. How foolish am I to believe freedom had been granted? That’s a mistake I won’t be fortunate enough to make again.
A sharp screech pierces my eardrums, and I whip my head toward the sound. The cry is distinctly feminine. My theory is further proven when another pitchy wail breaks into the vast stillness of this natural blind alley. Counting my regrets can wait. I’m not alone in this purgatory.
Finding her takes less than thirty seconds. The bastards responsible for this disaster didn’t bother separating us. She lays frozen on the ground, as if caught in a nightmare. Shit, that’s an illusion I don’t need my imagination for. We’re trapped in the middle of nowhere, as she’ll soon realize.
The moment I lean over her prone form, the force of a sledgehammer crashes into my gut. I know this woman. How could I forget? She’s been playing on repeat in my dreams for years. I wanted to claim her as mine from that initial glance we stole, and with each fleeting opportunity that occurred since. It seems I’m finally getting a chance to linger in her presence. The length of our acquaintance depends entirely on her reception. Minutes tick by without another peep from the brunette beauty. The urge to shake her is strong, but that seems like a horrible idea considering the potential harm.
As if suddenly aware of my leering, her eyes snap open with a gasp. Relief dumps over my head faster than a torrential downpour. “Thank Christ. I was beginning to think you’d never wake up.”
A raspy squeak rips from her throat. “Who the hell are you?”
That’s one way to kick off our introduction. First impressions are everything, right? I give her some space, crouching in the slush beneath my knees. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Halder.”
The woman—Blakely—props herself upright while continuing staring at me. Her presence in this crime against me is a beautiful curse, far more twisted than anyone should be capable of. Her expression softens with a flicker of recognition. “Wait, we’ve met before.”
“Not officially.”
That bit of eased tension returns to her already rigid form. Her blue eyes are blown so wide I’m worried she’s going into shock. “You’re from Streebston Correctional Facility. I’ve seen you there quite often. The guy who was just released.”
I nod along with Blakely’s choppy statements. The fact she’s able to recall our very minor connection probably means there’s no significant brain damage impacting her memory. Would it be better for my reputation to start with a fresh slate? Without a doubt. But the less severe injuries we have impacting us, the better our chances will be.
Silence hangs between us as the weight of our predicament settles in. With a long inhale, the rattling edges of my attention sharpen. The drowsy effects from whatever was keeping me under is wearing off. A glance at Blakely shows her gaze focusing, and the expression she wears is more lucid than moments ago.
Looking at her isn’t a choice. She feels similar to a compulsion, a deeply ingrained need. But freaking her out with my blatant interest will only cause alarm. To her, I’m a stranger. A nameless felon amongst the sea of orange jumpsuits. Not out here, though. I’m a free man. A corralled chuckle bubbles in my chest. Shit, the harsh truth of that statement is almost comical.
Without any sort of warning, yet completely unsurprising considering where we are, Blakely’s chest begins rising and falling in erratic beats. She looks to be on the verge of hyperventilating. The list of possible ailments is getting longer, not that I blame her.
“Hey, look at me.” I motion between her face and mine with two fingers.
She clenches her eyes shut, sucking in several lungfuls of air as if suffocating. Her body begins to tremble. The icy dirt below us almost seems to shake with her movements. Instinct