Hunter, page 7
part #1 of Hunted Shifters Legacy Series
And she needed to think like them now.
Celine forced her thoughts to halt when Sidney stirred again, and soon she was the one hurrying inside the mansion and towards her bedroom. She fed the baby, cleaned her, and cradled her to sleep. She fought off the shivers at the sudden coldness that touched her skin, not ready to rest just yet.
Instead, she checked in on Max, relieved to find his head on the pillow and snores coming out of his throat. Fast asleep. She hesitated before she took Sidney's bassinet there, locked that bedroom, and walked the halls, trying to remember the accidental tour Levi had given her once when he’d tried to lead her to the room where they’d kept all their healing balms and health aid materials.
The medicinal kits are kept close to our rooms, especially Hunter's and Ovie's. They’re our top warriors and always outside, and they need it the most when they come back with injuries. We don’t have proper doctors here yet, but hopefully, we’ll get one soon. I’m trained, but not in all aspects. And I’m not always around, either.
It spoke of how painfully small their group was, and maybe she was starting to understand why Edmund was acting like this.
There were only two doors ahead of the medicinal room, and one was slightly ajar. Quietly, Celine strode over and took a peek, expecting to find Hunter asleep, too. Instead, what she found was something else: Hunter on his feet, discarding his jeans until he was only in boxer briefs. Thick, muscled thighs filled her vision, followed by his broad back when he discarded the shirt, too.
She wet her lips. Her core tightened, a sensation that very nearly made her back away.
Then Hunter turned around, presenting her a view of muscled pecs, a six-pack…
A chest filled with slashes and open wounds.
Chapter 9
The gasp pierced through Hunter’s preoccupied mind—the only warning he got before he was letting his claws out as footsteps approached him. His eyes took in the open door, the figure striding over to him with a very guilty expression.
His claws relaxed, settling back into his normal nails. He gawked, dumbfounded, as Celine stopped in her tracks, then backed away and muttered something about being right back.
Maybe he scared her, or the sight of his wounds did. He looked down, frowning at the slashes and annoyed that they weren’t healing as fast as he wanted them to. That was vicious vampires for you—the wild kind, more in tune with their beastly nature and treating everyone as prey. They’d have feasted on his blood if he’d had a moment of weakness, those bastards.
It almost killed him, the thought that the same could’ve happened to Celine, Max, and Sidney.
Before he could do something about the wounds, Celine entered again, bringing a familiar box with her. Realization kicked in, and he stared at the medical supply she opened as she stood right back in front of him. Now she looked determined as she pointed behind him: the bed, his bed.
“Sit.”
His brow rose.
“Please sit,” she corrected hastily.
Hunter kept staring but followed her request. He had the presence of mind to grab a towel and place it above his boxer briefs, though she didn’t even seem to be looking that way. Her gaze was focused on his chest, then the box, already taking some things out of it.
“Do you know what you’re looking for?”
This time, her eyes met his as she shot him a look. “I know first aid. You don’t seem to need stitches, but you need to be disinfected.” A pause. “Are those creatures…poisonous?”
“Still vampires,” he reminded. “And no, not poisonous. But they’re the type of vampires that don’t blend in well with society, and they only come out to feed. I’m sure they only came out that night to get to you, though hell knows how they even found you.”
She remained silent, thinking it over.
“Are they also called nightwalkers?”
“Yes, but they are more vicious. They don’t try to seduce their prey. They just prey.”
“Does that mean they’re still looking for us now? And you’re trapped here?”
“Not necessarily trapped,” he said, detecting the guilt in her tone again. “But yeah, we’re lying low. Keeping our pocket’s access points protected for now until their search dies down. That’s always how it’s been.”
A wet cloth touched the right portion of his chest, making him bite back a grunt when pain streaked. It was just water, her hand following a singular motion that was gentle but firm. Her focus was there, mopping up whatever dried blood she could until his wounds were more visible.
“I’m sorry.”
The apology was unexpected but very much sincere. He studied her bent head. “For sleeping with a person you didn’t know was a vampire?”
She shot him another look. “You know what I meant.”
“Then don’t be.”
“I almost had you killed.”
“Unless you were holding a gun to our heads, then you didn’t. You escaped for good reason. Now you’re staying for the same reason.”
An exasperated noise spilled from her throat. “Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“A savior for humankind, even going directly against your boss?”
Hunter’s jaw clenched, reminded that he still had some business with Edmund. Some menthol ointment was spread over his chest, and a cooling sensation hit him. Combined with her soft hands, it was like heaven.
“My relationship with my boss is a very complicated one. He can be harsh but trust me when I say he holds this clan together.”
She seemed to doubt that but didn’t comment on it. Instead, she dabbed more menthol on her fingers, abandoning the cloth and leaning forward with a frown.
“Don’t move. Your stomach injuries are worse, so I need to be careful.”
Alarm jolted him into almost moving when she stepped even closer, then knelt right in front of him. Her head bent further, close to his stomach, and her bare fingers touched as she rubbed the menthol in soft, circular motions.
In an instant, it wasn’t just his stomach that had hardened, as the feel of her skin’s warmth seeped even through the menthol. This close, he could smell her hair again.
This close, he was painfully aware that if she looked down and scrutinized, she’d see what was aching at her nearness.
A thumb rubbed over a wound, feather-light, before she lowered her head and blew on it. Something close to a whimper nearly rolled out of him.
“This looks like it would hurt,” she said lightly. “They hurt you.”
No, she was hurting him—hurting him in a way he hadn’t expected at all. He’d always found her pretty, was fascinated by the contrast of her strength and vulnerability.
Fine, maybe he'd been attracted to her at some point.
But not like this.
Her hand glided further down, bypassing his navel. With a choked growl, his hand snapped out and circled her wrist, taking her hand off. The only thing that stopped him from shooting straight up and backing away was the towel and his erection.
Mostly his erection.
“That’s enough. You’ve done enough. Thanks.”
Celine looked up in confusion, noting the tense look he had on. Those green eyes flickered with awareness, darkening…dawning with understanding, which turned her cheeks a tinge of dark pink.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I forgot you were naked…almost naked.”
If anything, the word only had her reddening some more, and he’d be damned if the sight didn’t arouse him further.
This was preposterous. Hunter cleared his throat, watching as she stood back up. He stood, too, as slowly as he could.
“Give me a minute to shower.”
“Your wounds…”
“The menthol’s a special one. It’ll stay. I just need to get any leftover blood and dirt off.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ll take my leave, then.”
“No, wait for me.”
“I’m fine—”
“I’m taking you back to your room, Celine. Please. Let me accompany you.”
Celine sighed, then sat on the edge of his bed to show him she was going to wait. Crazy how dangerous she looked perched there where he often slept, but he tried to take it off his mind as he went for the quickest shower of his life. It was a pain-filled process, but bearable enough as he toweled himself dry, gentle with the wounded parts, then donned sweatpants and a plain white shirt.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, he was baffled to find her still there—even more so that she was already lying in his bed and breathing softly.
Her position was close to falling, which would be the case if she so much as rolled over. He crossed the distance before she could, inserting his hands under her and hefting her weight up. He was reminded of that first night as she remained unmoving, though he knew it was from tiredness this time instead of the gas.
But it wasn’t just tiredness.
She was also warm—growing warmer by the second and shuddering from it. As he crossed the quiet halls to her sleeping quarters, she began to grow almost feverish.
The non-feverish Celine would never have let her guard down so easily.
In her bedroom, everything was quiet, and Hunter hurriedly took Sidney's bassinet back to Celine's—using a lock pick, of course. Max had mentioned that this was habitually Sidney’s downtime, and she next woke up just before sunrise for milk. Perfect time for Celine to rest, really. Hunter took her to her bed, where she slumped on top of her blanket and began shivering violently. That wouldn’t do.
This time, it was him preparing the things needed to help her, and he was soon rushing out, then rushing back to her room with a basin of warm water, some fever relieving drops of oil and a sponge. Her eyes remained closed when he glided the sponge over her skin, though she said unintelligible words under her breath. He kept to his task, ignoring the accidental touch of his fingers as he sponged her—ignoring how her skin felt like silk: an addictive texture. It took him an embarrassingly long time to finish, feeling clumsy and rough over her inherent softness. But she sighed, contented, unconsciously moving closer to his touch before she fell asleep again.
While the shivering had subsided, she was still pretty hot. That made him worry, especially knowing she was alone here, and Max was knocked out cold. He watched her sleeping form, a debate swirling in his mind as indecision warred. Then it cleared, and he realized what he needed to do.
Hunter only took a few minutes to return the basin to the medicinal room and toss the sponge in the trash. Then he was covering Celine up and crawling at the other side of her bed, careful to keep himself on top of the blankets. For good measure, he placed a pillow between them, understanding all too well the horror she would probably feel if she woke up not alone. He was determined to keep that distance, and so far, the pillow was helping: keeping him from touching her, keeping her scent away. Keeping them at a distance that made it clear what he was doing right now: an acquaintance watching over her in her feverish state, and nothing else.
This was going to be easy.
* * *
It wasn’t easy.
Hunter didn’t know at what point he fell asleep, but he woke up somewhere around dawn, still in the same bed that he’d slept in.
No pillow beside him, but a warmth that was pressed tight, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
Sleepiness made him pull that warmth closer before he realized tangled limbs were involved…and no, they weren’t the limbs of an old lover. It cleared the sleepiness enough for semblance to come, along with a painful awareness of who was in his arms.
Celine was still asleep, the pillow now under their heads…her hand on his stomach, where his shirt had ridden up along the hours. His hand had taken her in, her head cradled against his upper arm. The feel of her palm there was a jolt in the system, but it was nothing compared to the scent of oranges, of woman, and the warm mouth steadily exhaling against the side of his chest.
It was a dangerous position, one he needed to get out of quickly. He tried flexing his muscles, hoping the hardness would get to her sleepy state and she’d roll the other way. She moved, alright—right towards him, her mouth touching his chest. Soft babbles spilled out of her lips, something about the baby and it’ll be okay, it’ll be okay.
The words didn’t make sense, but that didn’t matter. The same arousal that had gripped him earlier hit him now, a slam to the system that wrecked his body. His stomach tightened, and he was abruptly sporting a hard-on that needed relief. He was aching everywhere, the urge to turn and face her a temptation that rang in his mind.
Not just to turn.
He didn’t know her. He knew information from a file, yes, but those were written documents, not the flesh. Not discovery. He didn’t know what her dreams were, what her goals were. He didn’t know her history, what made her tick and made her laugh.
He didn’t know what made her breath hitch, what kind of touch made those green eyes blur.
It stupefied him that he wanted to know now, that he wanted to ask her all kinds of questions unrelated to his task here, and her purpose here. It stunned him that she was getting harder to resist even without knowing things, and the way her scent was assaulting his senses made it very, very hard to think clearly.
Something else stirred besides her, alarm ringing through Hunter before he was shooting up and off the bed. He blinked, realizing the movement had come from the bassinet. There was a soft cooing sound, repeated twice, before Sidney settled right back into sleep.
Celine cooed in return, unconsciously, before she turned the other direction. Her hand skimmed up the bassinet opening, holding on in a protective stance even in sleep. Her reason—her only reason—for being there.
It was the slap to the face he needed, allowing Hunter to gather composure and slowly get the desire out of his system. Just to make sure, he touched her skin again, found her no longer feverish. He eased out a sigh of relief, a direct contrast to the desire still stubbornly pulsing through him. That alone forced him to accept the truth: he was attracted to her, intensely so.
And that wouldn’t do.
He slipped out of her bedroom as fast and as quietly as he could, looking around to make sure nothing was amiss and no one was lurking in the corners. He kept walking with a purpose now, heading towards an office where he knew a certain someone was awake, too. He knocked.
Three seconds later, he was asked to come in.
Edmund still wore the same clothes he had on last night, head bent over his desk and looking like he was having a fine time of it. That was a talent in itself: the man’s ability to look cool and polished all the damn time, which made him very good at hiding things. The clan leader looked up, eyeing Hunter before raising a brow.
“Is everything okay with the escapees?”
“You know very well they’re okay,” Hunter replied. “Boss, I’m not here for that.”
“Ah. Then…?”
“Give me something to do. A task. I need to stretch my legs.”
Edmund could’ve responded with a suggestion that he stretch his legs out on the back fields, but the man didn’t. In fact, Edmund seemed ready as he took a paper from his pile and placed it in front of Hunter.
“As a matter of fact, I do have a task. It's a pretty heavy one.”
“Count me in.”
Chapter 10
It was probably the biggest kitchen Celine had ever seen in her lifetime—the prettiest, too, with its hardwood floors, marble counter, and breakfast table made of old, sturdy wood.
Of course, that didn’t count the broken dishes piled on one side and burned food stacked on the other.
It was the oddest sight, really, as the plates seemed pretty expensive, too. Fascinated, she trailed inside the empty space, bringing her dish with her. The plate was unbroken, but the food on it was close to charred, making her wonder who was the one in charge here.
“Hello?”
Wandering around determined no one was close by. Unable to resist, she began digging around, confirming her suspicions when she opened the fridge: stack after stack of microwaveable food, along with some boxes of chocolates. The freezer wasn’t any better, stacked with frozen goods that included the chicken nuggets she was served for breakfast.
Huh.
Save for that delicious dinner on her first meeting with Edmund, was this how they all ate?
It just wouldn’t do. Determined to find something else, she began to rummage around the pantry, where she found a staggering amount of stored canned goods and what looked like army meal packets. But there were some fresh eggs on the counter, some flour and seasonings in the cupboards. Some butter, jam, peanut butter…
An idea formed in her mind.
Before she could lose her guts, Celine took a deep breath and was already moving, setting aside the nasty first: burned food and broken plates in the trash, everything else washed. After, she began grabbing what she needed, dumping them inside a big, shiny metal bowl. The lump began to take form, and it wasn’t long before she had something baking in the kitchen and something else frying in the pan. The smells were divine, putting her in a good mood. If no one else loved it, at least Max would.
But God, she hoped they at least liked it. She hadn’t been kidding when she said she’d make it up to them, and this was the department she was at least confident about.
It was when Celine was hip-deep in creating her sauce that she finally heard voices drifting outside the kitchen.
“Are you sure you've checked everywhere?”
“I checked their bedrooms, and the offices. The library, too. Max was with Sidney. I don’t think there’s anywhere else she’d be…”
“Unless we’ve had some magical ghost make itself useful in the kitchen…fuck, what is that fantastic smell?”
Three figures stepped in the kitchen, and they all froze at the same time. Then they stared, something Celine already expected, considering here was probably the last place she should be in. She saw Levi, his brownish red hair a mess and obviously uncombed. Beside him was the light-haired man who’d saved her last night, and beside them was a female she hadn’t met yet, one who was gorgeous with her silky blonde hair and steely curves. It was the latter who’d made comments about the scent, and now she was sniffing the kitchen and eyeing Celine curiously.
