His hand lingered a moment longer, his gaze dark with some indefinable emotion. "Here, take this for me." He tugged the ring off his finger and pressed it into her palm. "It's my father's, and I don't want to risk losing it." A shiver of alarm ran through her. She frowned and glanced down at the ring.
"Why would you lose it?"
"It's made of silver and won't shift shape with me." He stepped away, and his eyes became hard again.
"I'll be back in a moment," he continued, and turned, making his way down through the trees.
She slipped the ring onto her middle finger and watched him until he'd become one with the shadows. The silence slowly became stifling and seemed to hold an edge of expectancy. She shifted uneasily, her gaze darting through the trees. Though she'd heard no sound, she suddenly felt as if someone was watching her. She glanced back at the cabin and saw Jon move through the shadows crowding the porch. He hesitated at the far corner, then slowly edged around out of her line of sight.
A twig snapped softly behind her.
She spun. Dust danced through the odd, soft-green light, stirred to life in the wake of something passing. Had that something been human or animal—or something in between?
She glanced over her shoulder. There was still no sign of Jon—maybe he'd entered the cabin. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then crossed her arms. If he didn't hurry up, he'd find her down there with him, whether he liked it or not.
Another twig snapped. She jumped, staring at the silent line of pine trees. A shadow stirred. Her stomach flip-flopped, and she licked suddenly dry lips. Something was moving—and she had no intention of hanging around to see what it was.
She headed down the hill. Brush rustled to her left, then something small and brown darted out near her feet. She bit back a yelp and jumped away, her heart thumping loud enough to wake the dead.
The furry form scurried off through the trees. A rabbit, she thought in relief. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and grinned at her own foolishness. Thank heavens Jon wasn't around to see her so jumpy. She studied the cabin for a moment, then continued on down the hill. Surely he wouldn't object to her moving down to the edge of the pines?
Something snapped to her left, and her heart rate leapt again. She hesitated, then saw the rabbit stand up straight and stare at her.
"Pest," she muttered, and ran her hand through her hair. At this rate, she'd be gray by the time she got down to the cabin.
"I do hope you're talking about the rabbit, my dear." She spun, her heart in her mouth and a scream caught somewhere in her throat. Hank stepped out the shadows, brown eyes gleaming with triumphant malice. "I rather object to being called a pest. I try to be so much more." Maddie backed away. She tried to scream again, tried to warn Jon, but no sound came out of her fear-frozen throat. She spun, but Hank jumped forward and caught her arm. His fingers dug down deep into her flesh and jerked her backwards.
"Don't run. I have so much fun planned for us this afternoon," he said, then leaned forward, brushing a kiss across her right ear.
She shuddered and swung her fist. He caught it with his free hand and laughed. It was a hollow, cruel sound.
Images of Brian flooded her mind. She had a feeling Hank's idea of fun was very similar to her ex-husband's. Force was something that seemed to excite some men. Panic stirred the embers in her soul to life, burning through her veins. She kicked out, struggling against his grip. No matter how evil Hank was, she didn't really want to be responsible for his death. If she didn't get away, she just might be.
Something cold and hard touched her throat. "Stop fighting," he warned. "Or I'll cut your pretty throat."
He smelled of sweat and dirt and death, and bile rose in her throat. She swallowed heavily. Being sick would not help her cause right now—though the thought of vomiting over Hank was certainly appealing.
"Let me go," she pleaded softly. The fires burned brighter, heating her skin. She clenched her fist, desperate to keep them under control. She couldn't kill Hank. He might hold the clue to Evan's whereabouts if the teenager wasn't in the cabin.
Hank laughed, a soft sound that sent chills running up her spine, then clamped a callused hand over her mouth.
"Can't do that, sweetheart. But hey, why don't we go down and surprise the boyfriend?"
***
The only sound to be heard was the wind whispering through the trees, yet something felt out of place. There was an edge of expectancy to the silence that worried Jon.
He frowned and edged around the corner of the cabin. Hank's old car was parked a few yards away. He ducked past the window and touched the hood. It was cold; the car hadn't been driven in the last few hours. He quickly scanned the trees. Hank wasn't inside the cabin, so he had to be out in the forest somewhere. Worry snaked through his gut. Maddie might think she could take care of herself, but against the likes of Hank, she wouldn't stand a chance. He took a step towards the trees then stopped and clenched his fists. This might be the only chance he got to rescue the teenagers—if they were in the cabin as Maddie predicted.
He swore softly, then moved back to the window and looked inside. The cabin was small and sparsely furnished. On the side closest to the fire were two chairs and a sofa. A box full of canned food sat underneath the table in the center of the room, and on the far side of this, an uneven clump of blankets. He reached into his boot and dug out a knife. Slipping it into the small gap between the window and the frame, he forced the catch open. After a quick look at the trees to ensure he was still alone, he climbed inside. Heat assaulted him. It was hot, stifling hot, in the cabin. Did Hank prefer it like this, or was the heat some weird requirement for the lead up to their ceremony?
There's too much we don 'tknow, he thought with a grimace. He shoved the knife back in his boot, then walked across to the blankets. Kneeling down, he flipped away one edge. Red hair gleamed at him. Evan. The other teenager, a girl with brown hair, lay quietly beside him.
He felt for a pulse. Both were alive, though obviously drugged. All he had to do was get them out of here.
He studied the room for a moment. He couldn't risk using the door. It was the only entrance and likely to be alarmed, especially given that Hank was wandering around outside somewhere. Which left the window he'd forced open. He wrapped Evan in several blankets and carefully lifted him. The kid was light, considering how long he was. Built slender like his aunt, Jon thought, and felt a pang of anxiety run through his soul. He had to get back to Maddie— something told him she needed him.
He slid the teenager through the window, lowering him carefully to the ground before climbing out after him. The wind moaned lightly through the pines. Tension ran through him. Something was definitely very wrong.