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yellow bird.

The bird seemed to be struggling and flapping its wings, trying to rise. In the process, it was battering the alien beneath it.

For a few moments, she wasn’t sure what she was seeing.

She wasn’t sure if the alien was dead but then he groaned again. The sound only seemed to incite the bird even more as it flapped its wings harder.

She was also pretty sure it’d dug a claw into the alien’s skull.

In the next moment, the bird seemed to shake itself free and took flight, rising into the air and leaving the alien behind.

Cleo’s eyes widened.

The alien lay motionless, his eyes closed and a bloody wound was on his forehead.

Her pulse hammered in her ears.

Was he dead? Dying?

Her question was soon answered when the alien groaned and sat up, his hand going to the wound on his head.

Cleo stiffened, moving behind the leaves even more as she watched him.

She was close. Probably too close.

Close enough for her to notice the alien’s broad shoulders and the fact he was obviously lean.

The simple white shirt he wore was thin. Thin enough for her to see the definition through it and her eyes widened a little bit more.

As her eyes moved up his body, the lump in her throat grew to golf-ball size and she fought to swallow it down.

The alien had a strong, defined jaw and even as she watched him now, she could see the muscles ticking there.

He was agitated?

Well, welcome to the club.

His brows were furrowed and she couldn’t see his eyes but he was scowling at the blood now on his hands.

His nose was a little wider than a human’s, the bridge appearing flatter than normal, and every now and again, it twitched, giving the impression he was sniffing.

His head of dark hair, black like oil, was tied on top of his head and out of the way but that only brought attention to his surprisingly handsome face.

Of all the things she’d anticipated, she hadn’t expected that the hunter would be attractive.

Not that it mattered.

She still had to get rid of him, or away from him, before he got rid of her.

With one startling movement, the alien yanked at his shirt, ripping a part of it away.

Staring as if mesmerized, she watched as he reached into his bag for a tube and squeezed some of the contents on the wound. Then, he bandaged it.

A sinking feeling developed in her chest.

He wasn’t leaving.

This wasn’t enough to make him leave.

As anxiety began to build within her once more, the alien stood and turned slightly to retrieve his bag.

Behind him, something swished.

He…he had a tail.

A furless tail except for a patch of dark hair at the end—much like a lion’s tail was.

Forcing herself low in the bushes, she held her breath as the alien began moving once more.

His steps were light, almost as if he was floating across the ground, and if she wasn’t looking directly at him, she wouldn’t have known he was there.

Not even a twig snapped with each step he took, and the leaves hardly moved as he brushed past them—even the air seemed undisturbed.

Like the reaper, he was. Coming for her silently.

The last thing she’d expected was that she’d find the reaper that came for her attractive.

Frowning at herself for noticing his looks instead of focusing on the fact that he had come to frickin’ catch or kill her, Cleo grit her teeth.

He was heading in the opposite direction, so at least that was good.

It would buy her some time so she could find a way to save herself.

She was thinking about this when the alien stopped walking suddenly and sniffed the air.

At the same time, the bushes rustled to the alien’s right and some of the little jungle-penguins she used for food walked out in front of him.

They stopped to look up at him in much the same way they’d stopped in front of her the first time she’d met their kind.

They were such innocent animals, and for that, she hated having to use them for food.

Only, she didn’t have a choice.

She couldn’t exactly live on the flora of the jungle.

She wasn’t stupid enough to try.

That would have been the fastest way for her to get poisoned and die.

Number one rule of living in the wilderness: Never try the plants unless you know them.

Wawa was content with eating the little birds too, so it worked out for both of them.

Now, the family of jungle-penguins stood in front of the alien and Cleo found she was holding her breath as her eyes moved back to him, wondering what he was going to do.

Only, his gaze wasn’t on the little birds.

As a matter of fact, it didn’t seem as if he even saw the animals.

Something about the way he was standing, unmoving, made every hair on the back of her neck grow legs and stand up to look at him too.

That was all the warning she got before he spun and looked right in her direction.

What the actual fu—

Even from so far away, she could see his eyes were a brilliant, captivating green.

Fuck.

She was far enough away that he shouldn’t be able to see her.

Yet, there was not a doubt in her mind that he wasn’t looking directly at the clump of

bushes in which she hid.

The alien’s eyes widened perceptibly and for a second, she didn’t dare to move.

She saw his lips move as he murmured something she couldn’t hear and then he took a step forward.

Her heart stopped.

FUCK!

She moved so fast, she didn’t wait to see if he was in pursuit or not.

Ducking behind the bushes, she ran.

Shit.

Heart in her throat, she backtracked as fast as she could.

This wasn’t going to plan.

This wasn’t going to plan at all.

She couldn’t allow herself to get caught.

As she ran, it felt as if her world was imploding.

Suddenly, everything seemed temporary. Too temporary.

Her life…her existence.

Problem was, for the first time in a long while, she didn’t know what the fuck she was going to do.

She was out of plans and

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