The Cursed Satyroi: Volume One Collection by Rebekah Lewis

Author:Rebekah Lewis [Lewis, Rebekah]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Rebekah Lewis
Published: 2015-07-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter One

Present Day

The downpour assaulted the supposedly waterproof tent as Lily cursed Donovan’s existence for the millionth time. Not only had she accidently ripped a hole in the top of the tent trying to pitch the thing on her own, but Donovan left her stranded in the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains. She would have duct taped the shit out of the tear to solve the leak issue, but of course the tape was in his pack, not hers. He also had the map. She lost her compass, and her cell phone had fallen into a mud puddle and wouldn’t turn on anymore.

The cherry on top of the worst camping trip from hell? The one she was supposed to be reimbursed for when she turned in the nature photos she’d taken for a supposedly amazing freelance job? Not happening. She’d never make it back to get paid. Probably wouldn’t even make it out of the mountains.

Instead, she’d been dumped that morning. Donovan couldn’t have done it before the trip or waited until they got home. No, he saved it until they were in the middle of the wilderness, on foot, with only two days left of provisions. Maybe he thought if Lily murdered him, she’d be sure to be caught since people knew where they were and when they were supposed to return. But if he went home without her, he could hide her absence for at least a few days.

That’s Donovan, the party pooper extraordinaire, and wringing his scrawny neck would have been so stress relieving. Lily didn’t even have to murder him exactly—she just wanted to watch him suffer. Not that she was a violent woman or anything, but ugh!

Unscrewing the cap of her canteen, she asked the air around her, “What kind of man abandons a woman in the middle of the freaking woods?” The howling wind and rain answered her. She jumped as a massive thud hit the top of the tent and the canteen landed heavily on her bare foot.

“Ouch!”

Lukewarm liquid cascaded between her toes, forming a puddle at the end of her sleeping bag. She heaved an impatient sigh as she put the cap back on the canteen and tossed it on top of her backpack. There wasn’t much water left to drink, so she would refill it in the morning with the rain accumulating in the cup she put outside and the compact frying pan collecting rain from the hole in the tent.

Several more thumps, which sounded like a storm of pebbles, pounded against the nylon. A nickel sized ball of ice dropped into the frying pan with a clack as it slipped through the tear. Lily scooted to the center of the tent, away from the sides in case a particularly nasty piece of hail struck near her head; the last thing she wanted to do was suffer a concussion from a miniature cannonball made of frozen water.

The meteorologist who said clear skies all weekend would definitely receive hate mail when Lily got home.

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