Page 21 of Alien Huntsman

“Couldn’t.” He flexed his fingers, watching his claws extend and retract. “Too many memories. Too many ghosts.” He shrugged. “I took up bounty hunting. Turns out I’m good at tracking things that don’t want to be found.”

Hunting down his mother’s killers had taught him that.

“I stayed away for years. Moved from place to place. Job to job. The money was good and I liked being on the move.” He glanced around the cabin. “I used this place sometimes between contracts.”

“What made you come back?”

“Seren asked me to come back. He said he needed me.” It had been more complicated than that—messages passed through mutual contacts, rumors of growing tensions with humans, Seren’s vision for something better. “I figured I owed him that much.”

He felt her watching him, her gaze steady and unwavering. Most people looked away when he spoke of his past—uncomfortable with the darkness they glimpsed there. She didn’t.

“Do you still hate all humans?”

“Some days.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, and he felt her start to withdraw,

He couldn’t prevent himself from taking her hand in his.

“You’re different.”

“Different how?”

His hand rose to his cheek, to the spot where her lips had touched earlier. The memory of that brief contact still burned hotter than it should have.

“You care. About those pups. About people who aren’t kind to you.” His voice roughened. “You see things others don’t. I don’t hate you.”

The confession hung in the air between them, raw and honest. She studied him silently, her fingers still warm against his.

“Do you think you can learn to live with humans?” she asked finally.

His first instinct was to deny it. Humans were violent, unpredictable creatures. He knew better than anyone that they brought death and destruction in their wake.

Yet sitting here in the quiet, holding her hand, the truth hit him with unexpected force.

“I already am.”

CHAPTER 9

Tessa smiled at Korrin, caught off guard by his statement.

“I suppose you are.”

She’d grown so used to him being there, to his brooding looks and growly commands—it was hard to imagine a time when he hadn’t been part of her life.

I don’t want to imagine a time without him.

Her chest ached as she glanced at his profile, strong and sharp against the firelight. She shouldn’t feel this way about the male who’d taken her from her home on her stepmother’s orders. And yet… the gentleness with which he treated the pups, the way he’d saved her from the ravine, how he seemed so pleased to provide for her—those things spoke louder than his gruff exterior.

“You know,” she said, keeping her voice light, “for someone who claims to despise humans, you’ve been remarkably patient with this one.”

His mouth twitched. “I told you—you’re not like the others.”

“But I am human. Not all of us are the same, just as not all Vultor are the same.” One of the pups scrambled down off her lap and climbed back into the basket with the others. “People are shaped by their experiences, their choices. What happened to your mother was terrible, but it doesn’t define all of us.”

His jaw tightened, and she wondered if she’d pushed too far. But she needed him to understand.

“The men who hurt your mother—they would have hurt me too. They’re not my people any more than they’re yours.”

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