Page 101 of Corpse Roads
Ignoring him, I hop down onto the sand before he can protest again. The promise of water calls to me, beckoning through the loud gale. It’s like the wind is screaming my name, welcoming me home.
“Harlow!” Hunter shouts.
Stopping to toe off my leather boots and socks, I sprint straight into the sea without a care for the falling snow. Freezing cold water soaks into my cuffs, burning layers of skin until my bones ache.
I’m being cleansed in fire and ice.
The sea is setting me free.
My senses feel alive for the first time in years. Sloshing my bare feet around, I marvel at the touch of stones beneath the water. Their sharp corners cut into me, breaking through the numbness.
Wild wind sears my cheeks, whipping strands of hair out from my beanie. The taste of salt and ozone from the arriving storm are welcome reminders of nature’s callous touch.
Splashing marks Hunter’s arrival in the water. I spin around to find him sloshing closer towards me, his tailored charcoal trousers getting soaked. He doesn’t look mad, somehow.
“Mind if I join you?”
I gesture around the deserted beach. “We have the place to ourselves.”
Standing together in the darkness, shoulder to shoulder, we’re both shivering all over. The storm clouds roll ever closer, begging to unleash their destructive force.
“Do you recognise this place?” Hunter shuffles closer to take my frozen hand.
It feels so natural to curl our fingers together. He’s the single source of gravity in this lawless place. We could drown in the tide, but I know he’d still save me.
Not even God could avoid Hunter’s wrath. He wouldn’t allow me to die without his signed approval, and even then, I’d be beholden to his rules and regulations.
“Yes,” I admit, catching wet snow on my tongue. “I’ve been here before. I know I have. Why did you bring me?”
His grip tightens. “I have a story to tell you, Harlow. It isn’t a pleasant one, but you need to hear it regardless.”
It feels like we’re the last two people alive out here—trapped in a bubble of cold air and secrets, far from the chaos of criminal investigations and obligations.
And still, the past clings.
“I’m scared,” I make myself admit.
Grasping my chin, Hunter raises my eyes to his. They look black in the darkness of the storm, but warmer than ever before. Emotion stares back at me for the first time.
“I know you are, sweetheart.” His thumb strokes over my parted lips. “Come inside. Please.”
Nodding, I let him tow me back to shore. The cold sinks deep into my core as we hobble back up the sand in sodden clothes. Relentless wind bruises us, angry and out of control, until we reach the hotel.
“You should warm up,” Hunter worries, still holding me close. “I think I saw a fire in the bar area.”
We pass the reception staff’s gaping stares, dripping water through clusters of chairs and tables. Firelight fills the quiet bar, with only a small handful of people sipping wine and talking in low whispers.
“Want a drink?” Hunter asks.
I slide into a plaid armchair next to the open fireplace. “Do I need one to hear this?”
He hesitates. “Yes.”
“Then I’ll have a drink.”
Disappearing and returning with two glasses, he takes the seat next to me. I eye the measure of dark-amber liquid.
“What is it?”