Hunter, page 11
part #1 of Hunted Shifters Legacy Series
“Good thinking,” Hunter grumbled, voice deeper than usual. “This was a smart idea.”
“This was a dumb idea, but who’s counting?” Ovie countered. “I’m fucking dizzy.”
“We can all rag on Levi for that one.”
“Later. I’m really dizzy.”
“And you’re both heavy,” Jessa complained. “Alcohol-lightening medicinal drink, my ass…Celine! Celine, thank goodness!”
The sudden exclamation startled Celine in a frozen state, even while she’d already been staring at them in fascinated confusion. All this time, she assumed shifters had a high tolerance for alcohol, considering they had a high tolerance for everything else.
How dead wrong she was.
“Hey…”
“Here, take Hunter,” Jessa ordered, swiftly rushing forward and close to lurching. She brought the two men with her, who groaned at the fast movement. “Ovie’s about to drop dead, and I can’t handle his damn weight.”
Celine blinked when a huge body was promptly by her side, decidedly too close. She gaped as Jessa and Ovie walked away, hanging on to each other and swaying from side to side. Jessa burped, and Ovie told her she was disgusting.
The body beside her started moving, too, taking one step forward before swaying to the side.
In an instant, Celine was there, draping his arm around her shoulders and trying to support him with her weight. Not an easy task, considering just how heavy and tall the man was. But he held on, head leaning down to meet her gaze. The honey color was dark, slightly glazed.
Still unbelievably beautiful.
“So,” she said.
“So,” he returned, peering at her. “Celine. Hi.”
She smiled, unable to help it. “Hi. You’re drunk.”
“We all are.”
“What brought this on?”
“A lot of tensions.”
“Ah. Wouldn’t a spar have helped?”
“We sparred at first,” he said. “It didn’t…didn’t help. Needed more. Celine?”
“Hmm?”
“I think I’m gonna fall. How embarrassing.”
And Hunter did as he said, swaying on the spot and dangerously close to bringing them both down. Alarmed, Celine planted her feet firmly on the ground and dragged him back up, refusing to crumble under his weight.
“Then get to your feet and let’s head to your room,” she cajoled, keeping her voice light. Teasing. “I didn’t know you were a lightweight.”
“I’m not. Blame it on Jessa. She egged us all on. She’s like this annoying sibling we can’t swat off.”
Somehow, Celine could see it, and it only made amusement simmer now that she knew it was nothing more than platonic. He kept talking in random bursts, decidedly chatty. The walk to his bedroom was painfully slow amid the swaying and stumbling. But alas, they finally arrived, and it took her three clumsy turns of the knob and a kick on the panel for it to open.
Hunter stumbled inside, muttering something about a nice bed and charging his way through there. He crashed on his face, groaning. He rolled to his back, eyeing the ceiling with a miserable look on him.
“I regret everything,” he declared.
Biting back a grin, Celine went to get a glass of water and some headache pills, then proceeded to climb into bed and cajole him into taking them. They argued over it before she pinched his elbow, and he yelped, gave in, and crashed back on the mattress. She took a towel to his face, unable to resist touching the slight stubble on his jawline.
When he groaned softly, she snatched her hand away and very nearly scrubbed the towel—and his scent, faintly cedar pine—into non-existence.
She returned to the bedroom after, stopping in her tracks when she found Hunter had moved at some point, enough to remove his shirt and discard it on the floor…and his jeans. His legs were under a mess of blankets, but his chest was bare, rippled with a sinew of hard muscles.
She swallowed, staring. The last time she’d seen him half-naked was when she’d been treating his wounds, and she’d been too preoccupied. Now he was clean, uninjured, smooth…but not really, because the hard ridges on his stomach were too defined to be called smooth.
Suddenly not feeling so light, Celine decided to just be quick and get away from the temptation presented right in front of her. She climbed back in bed, ready to sweet talk him to crawl up and get himself in a more comfortable position—
A hand wrapped around her hip, lifting her up. She gasped, flung her arms forward—ended up balancing her hands on his chest as he took her body and positioned her on top of him, a move that was more instinct than purpose. All of a sudden, she was straddling him, leaning down when his thumbs rubbed her elbows…feeling what was in between her legs, pressed against her upper thigh and hotly pulsing to life.
Hard.
Huge.
Stunned silence reverberated in her throat, as she felt every inch of that hardness just a whisper away from her panties. He leaned up, mouth close to her ear as he whispered in a raspy, sleepy voice.
“Celine.”
Her name on his lips sounded like a prayer, and a warning.
“Hunter…”
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he growled, thumb moving up. Down, circling around her wrist. Her pulse jumped. “So fucking soft.”
A whimper got stuck on her tongue, as she fought the need to grind down. White-hot sensation flooded her when his thumb traced down her hip, then traced further down to her thigh.
“Hunter…”
“So fucking hot,” he grumbled, a low, guttural sound that made her stomach plummet with intense need. “Your tits…” Another groan, and his other hand moved there and squeezed softly. Liquid pleasure poured over her at the contact. “So fucking soft. Perfect.”
Oh, my God.
It was dirty—and she was more turned on than ever. The feel of his calloused hand over her shirt was heaven, the ache building up until she was restless with it. It had to be the alcohol egging him on, her mind reasoned desperately as it held on to sanity.
“I want to make you wet.”
Sanity flew out the window at that.
She already was. She was unbelievably wet and getting wetter by the second, tremors wracking her when he circled her thighs playfully. His mouth moved against her ear, saying words. Slurring words, but she understood every one of them.
His fingers grazed the edge of her panties.
“Want to feel you tighten around my fingers…cock. Want inside you…so badly. I fucking want you, Celine, you have no idea…”
Except maybe a part of her already did, because she felt the same way—felt way more. She wanted everything he was saying, wanted it all. She'd never felt hornier than she did right now. She’d been a frumpy, pregnant woman for the longest time, lost and confused—then a mother, still lost and confused but determined to focus on her child and new life.
Now, she felt like a woman, and she moaned like one when his fingers traced a line over her underwear, testing just how wet she was. It must’ve been very wet, because Hunter groaned again, pinching her covered nipple.
The white-hot sensation burst, flying out of control. Celine’s body shook with it, an orgasm as abrupt as when it started and jolting her out of her arousal strongly enough to register two things: first, he was drunk.
Second, he’d seduced her without even realizing it.
It had her scrambling back and away…then, standing very still when Hunter said something before promptly snoring. The blankets had fallen off somewhere in the midst of their tangled state, revealing the same thighs she’d been hungry for since who knew when. He wasn’t naked, but the boxer briefs weren’t doing her a favor with how they hugged every curve and muscle on him.
Or maybe it was doing her a favor.
Her lungs took a punch at another new sight: his erection, standing at attention. Jutting out in the air with how hard he was, ready to destroy his underwear, ready to destroy her…
Hunter rolled around, presenting her a view of his backside—of that firm ass, the thigh muscles that flexed as he stretched. Every new sight had her stepping back until her back hit the wall, and there was no other place to go. He groaned, another guttural sound.
She whimpered, out of breath like she’d just run a marathon. Too hot, too unsure, too everything.
Celine solved it by scrambling out of the door and slamming it shut.
* * *
In her room, the sensation didn’t abate as Sidney fell fast into sleep and Celine was left all alone with her imagination. It replayed everything that happened in her mind as she lay in bed, the pillows providing a comfort and a terrible temptation to grasp them tight. Every replay brought about a heightening of sensation, growing and growing until she was nearly losing her mind over it.
Her fingers itched, but she refused to give in…at first.
She recalled the way his body felt against hers, recalled the wonderful scent of man even with the hints of alcohol. He’d been drunk but still gentle, bold but still considerate. Hard, very hard, from head to foot, especially between his legs. He’d been hard for her, hard for a want that he’d been harboring. Hot and pulsing against her clothes, desperate for something that was close, yet so far.
She wanted to touch it—wanted to touch him, to know how he would react if she did. Lord knew her reaction hadn't been that controlled when he'd touched her.
Well, almost touched her.
Good heavens, help. In her eyes, he was the sexiest man in this mansion, and maybe even outside. The sweetest, too, his gruff ways never hiding the fact that he cared, and he worried—that he protected, an instinct and a nature inherent of him, making her feel safe.
There was something else that replayed in her mind, possibly more than the feel of him: his hot, dirty words, whispered in her ear until she was a puddle of goo for him. Every word sincere, every word charged with a desire that made her stomach tighten.
Was it the alcohol? Was it her?
Could it have been anyone else in his mind?
The thought alone was enough to elevate her from crazy to insane. But it was also sobering enough to take her back to reality, and that maybe she was overanalyzing things. Maybe she didn’t need to overcomplicate it all.
Maybe she just needed to give in tonight and let nature take its course, so tomorrow she’d be back to normal.
Her fingers decided before her mind could, already creeping down and slipping inside her clothes. Thighs spread, heating up at the contact, her panties already damp when her fingers touched there. She bit her lip, electricity jerking her body when she remembered how she came to climax earlier—so fast, so abruptly.
So brilliantly.
Fingers slithered inside smoothly, and she stifled a moan. Then those fingers were moving, and every thought flowed out of her like water, turning her mind blissfully blank. Her body went wild, no longer in control as she rocked with the rhythm of her thrusting fingers—as her thoughts reformed, but only to focus on one thing.
Hunter’s words. Hunter’s voice. Hunter’s hunger.
Hunter’s hands on her, calloused and rough and erotic.
It was too much, too fast, and she didn’t brace herself in time. Celine’s body bucked as she came, came so hard that it felt like being battered into nothingness. Pleasure burst, exploding before her eyes and making her a slave to her desire. Then it was gone too soon, her body going back down from its high and slumping on the bed.
She was tired, spent. She had her second orgasm of the night when she hadn’t had one in months—God, she couldn’t even remember the last one, because some damned vampire had glamourized her to forget. And that had been the last sex she had.
Tonight, she’d been satisfied by the same man twice, except he didn’t know it.
How messed up was that?
Celine should be feeling loose, languid. Satisfied. Instead, she felt more restless than ever, the satisfaction a short-term thing that made her feel cold after.
One fact rang in her mind, loud and clear: that something had almost transpired between them, but it didn’t. That almost had so much potential…so much danger.
That almost was going to break her heart, if she dove in headfirst and blindly.
She closed her eyes, willing the thoughts away. Determined to wake up solid, energetic, and as normal as ever, because Hunter didn’t deserve a cold shoulder and her fumbling avoidance.
He needed her independence, and she would give him that.
Chapter 15
Waking up with a hangover? Easy, and nothing an aspirin and a good amount of breakfast would fix. Hunter wished remembering what happened the night before was just as easy, but it seemed like his brain was determined to block it out and taunt him. Frustrated, he gulped down a couple of glasses of orange juice, then stumbled back in his room for a hot shower.
When he got out, dressed and semi-prepared for the day, Ovie’s was the first face he saw. The man looked positively cheerful for someone who didn’t smile much, which only made Hunter narrow his eyes.
“What’s up with you?”
“Nothing. Slept like a baby. Probably unlike you, since you were the most wasted last night.”
Wasted, yes. He remembered that part. Obviously. He would’ve liked to say it was Jessa’s fault, but he hadn’t been keen on rejecting a drink or two. Then three, then more, until it became countless and all four of them had practically drowned in it.
“Jesus. How are they?”
“Oh, they’re fine. Jessa dragged me right into my bedroom and practically threw me into bed. It's a miracle she managed to stumble her way to Levi’s room just fine. He took her bed. And you…Celine took very good care of you, I presume, since you don’t look dead.”
Celine.
All of a sudden, whatever had been missing earlier slammed to the forefront, bombarding him with streaks of random images. Stumbling, a lot of talking. An embarrassing load of burping, and then…
Her in bed, because he’d dragged her there. Her skin on his, her body on his, his hands on places they shouldn’t be on. He didn’t know where exactly, didn’t know what he said—but he recalled enough to know he hadn’t behaved last night, and Celine had been the victim of such misbehavior.
Dear God.
Damn it all to hell.
“Where is she?” was the question that came out before he could stop himself.
“Fields. I—”
“Later.”
He was headed towards the back before he knew it, the apology already at the back of his throat. He opened the double doors, slipped out, and kept walking.
The apology didn’t come as he stared at the two figures ahead, decidedly close and…touching.
“Yes, yes, that’s how you hold it. Now, throw it hard.”
Levi was there, teaching her in place of him. Levi had his hands on Celine’s elbows, maneuvering her to the correct stance in throwing a dagger—throwing, not just swinging. A part of his mind registered this was good, this was progress, but…
Levi had his hands. On. Her.
Hunter began seeing red. Not just seeing it, but it coated him, too, as he knew all too well how those elbows would feel. How soft her skin would be. That close, the shifter guard could probably smell her scent, her hair. Levi could probably see every fleck in her green eyes, how prettier she was the more one watched her. Grew close to her.
Something inside him jumped, clawing at his flesh, his claws growing. He took a step forward, edgy and ready with the intent to leap and defend what was his.
Celine threw the dagger, and it flew in the air with a whizzing sound before it hit the target Levi had placed there: a long wooden plank, pushed to the ground. She hit the edge of it, when most humans would’ve missed.
Her fists pumped in the air, energy bursting out of her as she exclaimed happily. “Score!” She turned, probably to celebrate with Levi.
She spotted Hunter instead, and the smile only lit her up all the more.
It was too much, too fast. His chest squeezed tight, warring with the intense jealousy he was feeling and making him a mess of a bastard. Belatedly, he realized Levi was also looking at him, gaze curious and observant.
He also realized his claws were still out, and he was still poised to attack.
Shame mixed in with the other two emotions, jarring him back a step. Another. He nodded in their direction, an approval to her and an assurance to him. Whether Levi bought it or not was a mystery, as the man was good at keeping his expression in check.
“Good job, Celine. Keep it up. Would you like to try it one more time?”
She nodded, still wrapped up in her excitement, and positioned herself again.
Hunter backed away and returned inside the mansion as she threw her second dagger.
* * *
He should’ve known it wouldn’t be easy to avoid the woman, considering she wasn’t keen on doing the same. Celine found him just around late afternoon, wandering the deeper halls of the mansion—the area he’d once told her to never visit.
“What are you doing here?” he growled in greeting, then winced at the harshness of his tone. But instead of getting offended, she merely kept walking until she was near enough.
Near enough to touch.
Near enough to pull towards him, damn it.
“What are you doing here?”
“Doing security check.”
“No, you’re not. Levi and Jessa are assigned to security checks, and they’ve done it twice already. You’re usually out and about, checking in with Max, with the vampire boy, with Sidney…with me.”
The last one was said in a whisper but filled with stubborn determination.
“Jameson,” he muttered. “That’s his name.”
Surprise flickered in her eyes, stopping whatever tirade was about to flow. “He said so?”
“No. He still can’t speak. But it didn’t fit well for him to be nameless.”
"Oh."
They were talking too much, in an area of the mansion that should be left uncharted. Because she still seemed inclined to talk, Hunter decided to fix it by taking her wrist, ignoring the spark that simple touch brought.
