Wanderlust by Skye Warren

Author:Skye Warren
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: captivity, stockholm syndrome

CHAPTER NINE

The Niagara River flows at approximately 35 miles per hour.

“Where are we going?” I asked, climbing down from the truck.

He grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Wait and see, sunshine.”

Hunter had pulled off a wide dirt road. Parking was always a challenge anyplace but a truck stop, so we stopped in some grass. It was surely illegal but no one seemed to be around. We were in the middle of nowhere, and the thought occurred to me that he could dump my body easily.

But I wasn’t afraid.

He was just too…cheerful, almost. Brimming with anticipation to show me something. Like a kid.

Silly thought.

We hiked along a trail and reached a tall metal marker: Enchanted Falls, 1 mile.

I froze, mouth open. “We’re going to see waterfalls?”

He suddenly seemed bashful. “Figured since we were passing through.”

Squealing, I threw my arms around his neck. He caught me with a small oomph of surprise but after a second, he pulled me to him in a bear hug. It had only been on impulse, but he embraced me as tightly as if he’d been waiting just for this, as if it meant something when it couldn’t.

I backed up, blushing. He cleared his throat and ducked his head, so that despite his foot and a half on me, I was looking at his profile from the top of his head. His hair was curly, I realized in the yellow-bright sun. It was cut short, but light reflected blond strands pulled through the darker brown.

He seemed more human in the light—less sinister. I imagined him in some innocuous setting. We could have met on a trail like this, just two people enjoying the beautiful setting, the smell of pine and gentle sound of water in the distance.

“It’s not too far,” he said gruffly.

We continued along the path. It wasn’t too uneven which was a good thing, considering my shoes were basically ballet flats. I felt the shape of each pebble and twig beneath my feet almost as if I were barefoot, although less sharply. The path turned rockier as we approached, the sound rising to a roar in my ears before it even came into view.

Eager, I quickened my pace. The trail continued at its full width forward, but I heard the waterfall to my right. I began to round a small bend obscured by the trees when Hunter yanked me back.

“Careful,” he warned.

Curious, I cocked my head then turned back to the path. We crept forward together, and I understood his warning. The trail ended on a bluff overlooking the waterfall. We weren’t at the bottom of the waterfall but at the top.

My heart squeezed at the sight. Water streamed down in rushes too fast for the eye to process. Mist rose up like tendrils of steam, the wetness kissing my face as I stood there.

A tall wooden fence, rotting, was all that separated us from a downward hill that met up with the shore far below.

“Can we get to the bottom?”

“Eventually.”

He continued along the main path, and I followed him.

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