She turned back toward camp after twenty minutes on the beach. To her right, she spied a path that disappeared into the thick woods. It led to the tennis courts and stables, she knew. This particular part of the trail wasn’t lit with lampposts, but the faint glow of dawn had started to lighten the eastern sky over the woods. Morning was here. She aimed for the path, knowing it would lead her back to camp.
Despite the dim light of dawn visible on the shore, however, she soon discovered the surrounding trees made it almost pitch black in the woods. Only the paleness of the pavement below her feet guided her. She became hyperaware of the sound of her tapping tennis shoes on the path and her even but escalated breathing.
Another noise entered her ears. She turned her head, her feet faltering slightly on the path.
The source of the sound eluded her. She resumed her former pace. She’d thought she’d heard another footfall aside from her own. It’d been her imagination—or more likely, her own heartbeat thumping in her ears.
Nevertheless, she quickened her pace, some instinct goading her. She thought the stables were just yards ahead. Weren’t there path lights around there? She didn’t ride, like many of her fellow counselors did, so she wasn’t certain.
The darkness seemed to crowd her, the shadows to encroach. A close, suffocating feeling pressed on her throat and chest.
Again, she heard a steady tread, slightly off-tempo from her own.
She stopped abruptly and spun around. Her heart jumped in her throat when the footsteps continued, clearer now that she stood still.
“Who is it?” she yelled into the black forest.
The footfalls ceased abruptly. A shiver snaked beneath her heated skin. The entire forest fell silent. She started when she thought she saw something white flicker in the shadows just at the farthest fringes of her vision.
“Who’s back there?” Alice demanded, anger and panic edging her tone. The white figure remained still. And quiet.
Or wait … was it slowly, silently soaring closer?
Terror shot through her veins. She turned and began to run again, still staring over her shoulder. Yes. Something pale was gliding through the darkness toward her. Whoever it was wasn’t answering her, and therefore wasn’t friendly.
It didn’t even look human.
She immediately quashed the disturbing thought. She started to sprint.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath when she heard the footsteps behind her increase in tempo as well. Yes, it was definitely human. Somehow, the knowledge didn’t help. She was being chased.
He’s going to kill me.
Stop it! she shouted at herself mentally, recognizing the irrationality of not only her thought, but her bizarre certainty that it was true.
She saw some lights ahead through the trees. Thank God. As she took a curve, she also spotted the outline of a building. Even though she’d expressed a firm lack of interest in horseback riding, she recognized the stables. The footsteps behind her grew louder. Her pursuer was getting closer. He was faster than her … stronger. Panic rose in her like a heavy, smothering blanket, weighting her muscles and lungs.
Her breath grew ragged. A stitch started to pierce her side. She made a split-second decision and left the path. If she tried to make the camp, whoever was behind her would eventually catch up … and who knew what he had in mind? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. If she reached the stables, she could possibly barricade herself inside.
The glow of a dim outdoor lamp next to the stable entrance guided her. Panicked, she glanced behind her and saw the murky figure follow her off the path. It was a man … wasn’t it? Only the movement of a pale shirt or garment was clear in the dark gray gloom.
She reached the building and fumbled around wildly for a door. She cried out in desperate relief when the knob twisted—she’d feared it would be locked. If only she could lock it once she got inside. Otherwise, she’d be trapped. The door swung open at her shove.
She ran directly into something large and solid. Someone grabbed her shoulders. She screamed.
“Shhh,” a man said, sounding alarmed. “It’s okay. Stop it, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said sharply when she instinctively pushed away from him, slapping and then punching at his chest.
“Let go of me, damn it,” she seethed.
He grunted and cursed when she landed an uppercut just below the sternum. There was a clicking sound. A light blazed into her eyes.
“Alice?”
She blinked, disoriented.
“Dylan—” she muttered hoarsely, too shocked upon seeing his hovering face to realize she’d called him by his first name.
He stared down at her, his hands still cupping her shoulders firmly. His dark brows were bunched in alarmed consternation.