Hunter, page 10
part #1 of Hunted Shifters Legacy Series
“I was,” was the woman’s matter-of-fact response. “Now I’m not. And I’ve been met with some fairly exciting news.”
“Nothing exciting about it,” Hunter countered. “Life has been peaceful here as always, and I think you’ll find the excitement you’re looking for when you meet with the boss.”
“I didn’t realize this was your idea of peaceful, Hunter.” The nail retreated, and Sidney made a cooing sound. A second later, the hand was gone completely, back at Leila’s side. She sighed. “And excitement from my brother is the last thing I want to hear about. Anyway…”
A serene smile was beamed in Celine’s direction.
“Until we meet again, Miss Peach.”
Celine tried to answer in kind, but the words were stuck in her throat. Instead, she found herself staring as the woman sashayed towards the door, every movement graceful and almost cat-like.
When she was gone, Celine very nearly collapsed on the spot. Instead of giving in to the urge, she rushed towards the bassinet, eyes taking in Sidney and expecting to find a slash, a pressed nail outline. Nothing. Greedily, she touched her child, the soft skin getting to her and finally making her lose part of her composure.
She trembled, starting from her hand and going up until her body was racked with it. The hand on her shoulder made her jump, ready to fight now. But it was just Hunter—and if anything, the quiet understanding in his eyes only made her feel weaker. Weak in the knees, too.
Desire, in the midst of terror. Preposterous.
Yet she burned insanely with it.
With sheer force of will, she locked her shaking knees in place, refusing to give in to it. She kept touching Sidney, desperately holding on to the small, delicate fingers.
“If you hadn’t arrived on time…”
“But I arrived,” Hunter cut in firmly. Resolutely. “As long as I’m here, no one can harm you, Celine. Not you, not Sidney, not Max.”
This time, her chin lifted. “And when you’re not?”
His jaw clenched, but she knew he couldn’t very well deny that there were days he would be gone. Instead of lying to her, Hunter met her gaze and handed her the truth.
“I’ll teach you how to defend what’s yours, and you lock your room at all times.”
Chapter 13
“Yes, yes, you’re holding it in the correct position. Keep doing that. Grip it firmly, but not too hard. Don’t stress your fingers while you’re carrying it. It has to be natural for you, like breathing.”
“Whoever said this would eventually be like breathing was kidding themselves.”
The slight sarcasm in the words had Hunter biting back a grin, even while the amusement flowed inside him endlessly. Her remarks had been pretty endless, too, but there was one thing to take into account here: that Celine was actually holding every weapon he’d introduced to her properly, and that included the long stick she had with her now. Long sticks were tricky things, especially when the weight hadn’t been chosen and there was no other choice. She held one end of the stick towards him now, her stance braced and ready to counter an attack.
He tested her with a move he’d used earlier: pretending to run in one direction before switching at the last second. He expected her to fall for it a second time around, expected himself to be able to disarm her easily.
Instead, Hunter found himself standing on the other end of the field, the stick pointed at his throat. It touched. She was still standing in place, and there was complete triumph over her expression.
“Not bad,” he rumbled, a quiet approval. She was good—not crazy good like most other shifter warriors, but very good for a human. And yet… “Let’s re-try without weapons. Get into position.”
Celine nodded and threw the long stick to the side, then began her stance again. Casually, he circled her, watching as her eyes traced the movement and her body followed suit. There was something focused about that gaze, eagerly taking in everything like a sponge—studying him, which served to heat him up like she’d been doing lately.
Focus, man.
He kept circling, kept catching her eye. At the last lock of their gazes, Hunter moved forward, then stopped, pleased when every muscle in her body tightened. He nodded in approval.
He leaped, anyway, using the air as his momentum and landing in her path a second later.
True to training, she moved, no longer in the space he landed on. He blocked the punch to his shoulder, attempted a light punch that was blocked, too. Celine used her full body to push him back, making a run for it and jumping back when he leaped again. Hands flew as they tried to tap each other, and he got a few hits in before she managed one herself.
“Find my nerve points,” he called out. “Aim for those first. Take every advantage you can get.”
“I already did,” she grunted, breathing hard through her mouth.
“Ask me questions.”
“Do you have an alias in my world?”
“Hunter Solis. Ordinary businessman, apartment owner. Works as a bodyguard sometimes. Likes to buy lottery tickets and dabble in the stock market. Do you have relatives, other than your parents?”
“I do, but I’ve never been close to them. We haven’t been in contact in years. They don’t even know about Sidney. What’s your pastime?”
“Training. You?”
“Eating. I’m a sucker for good food.”
“After discovering your cooking, so am I.”
More taps, more hits. More questions were thrown, then answered, and fascination weaved in at every little tidbit he discovered.
“By the way, Hunter, did you know deer like to poop on their partners?”
The statement was unexpected, catching him by surprise.
“What?”
And maybe that was the purpose.
In an instant, a force was thrown at him—her body, catching him unaware as he tried to brace himself. But she punched him in the stomach—hard—and used his unsteadiness to keep pushing him, and he fell on his ass with a hard thud. A grin split her lips, lighting up her features, and the long stick was back in her hand and aimed for his throat.
Thoroughly impressed, he attempted a sober expression.
“Weren’t we using hands?”
She kept grinning. “You said to take every advantage. The long stick was there. So I reached for it.”
“Very good. Very well.”
His hand snapped forward, taking the stick’s end and pulling hard. Celine’s eyes widened as she was pulled with it, the momentum too fast to stop and her hands pushing forth to break her fall. He took her wrists and kept her going, then rolled her around until she was flat on her back. Before she could move, his body was already on top, legs and hands locking hers on the grass.
This time, it was Hunter who grinned as he let go of her arms.
“Deer don’t poop on their partners. But nice ploy.”
She didn’t deny it. Instead, she frowned.
“Unfair. You didn’t tell me it wasn't over.”
“Sweetheart, no one’s going to tell you it’s not over. You just have to protect yourself while it isn’t…”
Something dug in his stomach, making him pause. He glanced down…bit back another grin when he saw the pocket knife glinting there. When he looked up, there was no missing the mischief shining in her eyes, bright and gleaming with fervor.
“You’re right, of course,” she said silkily.
“And you’ve been practicing.”
“Sometimes.” The knife retreated, allowing him to breathe easier again. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding it in. “And that was a good knife grip.”
“I was taught by the best.”
Her compliment was soft, sincere. She said it in between deep gulps of air, indicating that despite beating him, she was now slightly winded. Hunter waited, counting her rhythm and satisfied when that held well, too. He began to study different aspects of her body adjusting to the fight, from the way she held herself still to how she studied him back.
Something shifted in the air, but maybe it was just for him.
“Are we training again tomorrow?” she asked.
“Maybe,” he replied, then stopped when her hands curled unconsciously against his. She liked holding hands—holding Sidney’s, holding Max’s. He didn’t expect to like her holding his so much. “Are you cooking?”
“Obviously.”
“Then get some rest.”
“But I cook nearly every day,” she pointed out. “Shouldn’t I get used to practice and cooking without rest?”
“Another day,” he said. “Tomorrow, we rest.”
“Or we can practice,” she shot back, tone turning sweet and cajoling.
His body tightened—an instantaneous reaction that he couldn’t help.
“I have other uses, you know,” he countered, pretending to be wounded.
“Oh? Like?”
“I can help in the kitchen.”
“I prefer cooking alone.”
“I can help out with Sidney.”
“You’re terrified of her unless Max or I are there with you.”
“I’m good with my hands.”
“Massages aren’t my thing.”
“I didn’t just mean massages.”
Too late, he realized what he said and the context of it, and she did, too. Green eyes widened, awareness glinting as she took in the meaning. Then they darkened, a reaction that immediately sent him from tight to aching all over.
White-hot desire flared in his system, pounding an incessant beat when her breath hitched. That breath had hot air flowing against his lips, decidedly close as their faces had moved inches from each other. He smelled her, a scent he’d been avoiding and drawn close to despite himself.
He took that scent in, swallowing hard and feeling the answering shiver of her skin.
The lack of protest didn’t help, making him feel weak. So was the growing softness of her body, yielding completely to his. He leaned down, intending to brace himself at the delicious feel of her.
Instead, he found his mouth a whisper away from her cheek, hers touching his ear and moving.
“Hunter…”
Hunter, yes. Hunter, please. Hunter, faster. All in that soft, raspy tone, all with feverish desire as she held on to him—as she let him kiss her, touch her...slide into her until they were both moaning and fixing this pent up desire. Slide his fingers, then his raging boner, inside her, until she was writhing and moaning out his name.
God. God, what an image. What a desire.
But that was all it was: desire, almost animalistic in its intensity and threatening to set them both on fire. When the fire was gone, there would only be ashes, and he wasn’t sure both of them would still be standing.
It was the douse of cold water he needed, effectively bringing his mind back up. The consequences came into full play of what they were: a guard loyal to his clan, a mother loyal to her charges. Friends defending their own.
He scrambled up, unsteady on his feet and still sporting a hard-on that his long sweater thankfully kept hidden. Before he could reach out, she was already up, too, dusting her clothes and clearing her throat. Once. Twice.
Her cheeks were pink, and she was avoiding his gaze…and damn it all to hell, he wanted to yank her to him and ravish the hell out of every inch of her.
The thought made him shudder with pleasure, so he stepped back.
Cleared his throat, too.
“That was a good practice session. We rest tomorrow.”
“Good idea,” she blurted out, nodding frantically. Backing away, too. Her clothes had gone rumpled, sticking to her skin, following the lines of her curves almost teasingly until he saw it all: the not-so-flat stomach, courtesy of pregnancy, the gentle outline of her breasts. The two hard points in the center of each—
His eyes flew up, his cock harder than ever.
“Alright. Good.”
Before he could give in to his raging hormones, Hunter turned around and nearly sprinted out of there.
* * *
Maybe temptation liked toying with him, or maybe fate just had a nasty way of dangling a carrot in front of one’s nose. Whatever it was, it was working its damnedest on him, rendering him speechless and immobile most of the time.
Like right now.
Celine was in her bedroom with Sidney, which would have been a normal enough scenario—except it wasn’t, because she had one strap down, the baby’s lips on her nipple, and the rest of her breast out, plump and so soft-looking. He told himself to stop looking, told himself to turn around. Instead, he stared fixated, mind dimming from thoughts, mouthwatering at the faint idea of what she would feel like.
With a sharp hiss, he finally managed to turn around, hearing her gasp.
“I’m sorry. I knocked to check up, and l…”
“I didn’t hear you,” she said in a faint voice.
“And that’s my fault. But please, lock your door next time.”
“Hunter—”
“I’ll talk to you later.”
Except he probably needed a whole day to stay away, as his arousal wasn’t going to go down anytime soon. It was ridiculous how he sported a hard on nearly every day now, and how it was getting harder to get rid of every time.
Training. He needed training, some physical exertion to help keep him distracted. A mission.
Hell, something at the other end of the world.
But the thought of being so far away also brought an ache, different from the intoxication of being so near her. It was a hell of a ping-pong in his system, and it was getting more difficult.
“Penny for your thoughts…or do you even need a penny?”
The loaded question wasn’t missed, and Hunter shot Jessa a look before walking by her. Because he grew up with her, he knew what was next: the woman following him, relentless in her discovery like she often was.
And that was what she did.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“We’re on lockdown.”
“Then somewhere.”
“Jerking on it?”
“Don’t be crude,” he warned, shooting her a glare. She returned it with a smirk and a curious expression.
“I’m always crude,” she countered. “Also, jerking isn’t going to help. Do you want to know why?”
“Why?” he asked testily for the hell of it.
“Because the source of your desire is right around the corner, and your sordid need is never going to be satisfied with just a hand. Minds have a way of fucking us up.”
She was right, but it didn’t make him feel any better. He growled. “Suddenly you’re an expert at sex? Where are you getting all this?” Before she could respond, he cringed and held up a hand. “Never mind. I don’t want to know about your sexcapades…or lack of them.”
“Shut up, you bastard,” she said with feeling. “If you must know—”
“Jesus. I don’t want to know.”
“Fine. No more sex talk. Let’s spar.”
“No, I don’t want to spar with you.”
“Why not?”
Hunter gave her a pointed look. “You talk too much, Jessamine. I’m not in the mood to talk.”
“Okay.”
But she kept following him anyway, not saying a word as he roamed the halls and looked for something he couldn’t define yet. A figure turned a corner and approached them, and Jessa hailed up a hand.
“Hey. What’s up?” Levi asked, eyeing them both.
“Oh, nothing much,” she chirped. “Hunter?”
“Go away, Jessa.”
“I’d rather not. How about a drink?”
“No,” Hunter snapped.
“Why?” Levi asked at the same time.
They eyed each other, then turned back to Jessa. She grinned.
Hunter scowled. “Jess…”
“Hunter, we haven’t gone drinking in a while. I’m old enough to hold my own now,” she said proudly, straightening her shoulders. “It would be fun.”
And he recalled what happened the last time Jessa had too much alcohol in her system: her mouth becoming louder than ever, her temper getting the best of her. It had resulted in a drunken fight with Andrei St. Charles.
Which, of course, resulted in broken antiques everywhere, infuriating Edmund thoroughly. The man had been in a sour mood for a good week, which was never a good thing. A pissy Edmund meant petty tasks, and no one liked that.
Another figure turned the corner, walking closer as Levi and Jessa began to argue about drinking. Hunter focused on Ovie, waiting until the man was within hearing distance before he voiced out what he needed.
Well, not exactly. But it was a good alternative.
“Let’s spar. No holds barred.”
Chapter 14
It took Celine a long time to find Hunter, as he wasn’t in his usual spots: not in his bedroom, not in the fields, not anywhere she was used to finding him. There was no one to ask as the halls were decidedly empty, and she made sure to avoid the ones Edmund or Leila would be in: office, or their bedrooms. The forbidden areas in general. As a last-minute thought, she snuck to the prison area, relieved to find the vampire boy there and sleeping soundly—looking healthier, too, as he’d obviously been fed blood and treated better than most.
She was just rounding the halls a second time, knife in her pocket and ready, when a door to one of the bedrooms slammed open: Jessa’s bedroom. Out stumbled Hunter, arm around Jessa. Hers was around his waist, and she giggled at something he said.
Something ugly reared up from inside Celine at the sight, and she almost stepped back and turned away instantly. Before she could, Jessa tugged, dragging another person out of her bedroom and putting her other arm around his waist. Ovie was muttering something unintelligible, looking very red in the face and slurring his words.
In fact, all of them weren’t speaking straight.
“Levi! Get out of my room!” Jessa called out, then moaned in despair when no sound came from inside. Beside her, Ovie shook his head.
“He’s knocked out cold, Jess. You did that.”
“I didn’t make him drink,” she shot back. “But, ugh, I don’t want to sleep beside him. He snores. It’s disgusting. Sleep…” Jessa’s eyes lit up, turning bluer. “I’ll sleep in Levi’s room!”
