Page 11 of Alien Huntsman

The familiar scents of damp earth and evergreens filled his lungs as he climbed higher into the foothills. Something tight in his chest began to unwind with each step that took him away from the human village. This was where he belonged—not brooding in village taverns or dealing with scheming women like Lenora.

One of the pups yipped softly, and Tessa stirred in his arms. He froze, but she merely sighed and pressed her face against his shoulder before falling still again. The warmth of her breath penetrated his vest, sending an unexpected shiver down his spine.

“What am I doing?” he muttered to himself, resuming his climb up the rocky path.

He still hadn’t decided exactly where to take her. Somewhere safe but distant, that had been the plan. Yet as the mountain trail opened before him, familiar peaks silhouetted against the star-filled sky, he felt an odd sense of rightness. As if bringing her here, to his territory, was exactly what he should be doing.

CHAPTER 5

Tessa drifted slowly back to consciousness. Her mouth felt dry, her tongue like sandpaper against the roof of her mouth, and her head felt fuzzy. She tried to move her hand to rub her temples, but her wrists refused to separate. Panic jolted through her body as she realized both her wrists and ankles were bound with strips of soft leather—tight, but not painful.

The night air carried a chill that hadn’t been present in the village. The clean scent of pine trees floated by on the breeze, and overhead, stars glittered more brilliantly than she’d ever seen them. She was somewhere in the mountains, far from home. But where? And why?

The last thing she remembered was the woodshed, the pups, and then… golden eyes. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she blinked away the remnants of whatever had been used to render her unconscious.

A soft whimper drew her attention, and relief flooded her as she spotted the adyani pups huddled together in their blanket nearher feet. All seven accounted for, their tiny bodies rising and falling with sleep. At least they were safe.

A sudden shower of sparks drew her attention to a campfire. Beyond the dancing flames sat a huge, broad-shouldered figure. His face was partially hidden in shadow, but there was no mistaking the golden eyes that seemed to glow in the firelight—the same eyes she’d seen in the village, the same eyes that had been the last thing she’d seen before darkness claimed her.

“You’re awake.” His deep voice carried across the small clearing, neither threatening nor particularly welcoming.

She struggled to sit up, her bound limbs making the task awkward. He neither objected nor offered to help, simply watching her with those unreadable eyes.

“Who are you? Why have you taken me?” she asked once she was upright, trying to fight back a wave of panic. She was afraid she already knew the answer.

“…need her gone. You understand?”

“What you’re asking for comes at a price.”

She was the one Lenora wanted gone. Her stepmother had hired this man—this Vultor—to get rid of her.

“You’re the one Lenora was speaking to. She paid you to take me, didn’t she?”

The Vultor’s expression remained impassive as he reached for something beside him. She tensed, fear momentarily overriding her anger. But instead of a weapon, he produced a small bundle wrapped in cloth.

“You should eat.”

“I don’t want food. I want answers.” She struggled against her bindings, wincing as the leather tightened and dug into her wrists. “Where are you taking me? What does Lenora expect you to do with me?”

Even as she asked the question, the realization washed over her, as chilling as winter rain.

“She hired you to kill me, didn’t she?” Her voice trembled despite her best efforts to control it..

The Vultor’s golden eyes reflected the firelight, his expression unreadable, but his silence was confirmation enough. Her stomach twisted into knots.

“How much?” she asked, anger giving her strength. “How much did my stepmother pay you to make me disappear?”

He ignored her questions, moving around the fire with a predatory grace that made her pulse race. She tried to scramble away as he kneeled beside her, but his big hand closed around her forearm, his palm warm against her chilled skin. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating from that big body and catch his scent, clean and somehow wild.

She started to pull away again, but his fingers tightened.

“Stop fighting me,” he said, his tone mild, as he extended his other hand. She gasped as sharp claws emerged from his fingertips. “Now hold still.”

She obeyed, her pulse hammering in her throat as he let go of her arm and reached for her bound wrists instead. He cradled them in one big warm hand, then sliced through the leather bindings with his other hand, his claws never once grazing her skin.

“Drink,” he ordered, handing her a waterskin.

She gave it a suspicious look but her mouth was too dry to resist. She drank thirstily while he watched.

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