Page 23 of A Hunter Born
Glancing over her shoulder at Travis who was still sound asleep, Morgan smiled fondly. She loved him. The realization came as a surprise and she took a moment to analyze her feelings just to be sure she wasn’t mistaking infatuation for something deeper. After all, she hadn’t exactly been exposed to the emotion growing up. They also hadn’t known each other very long and her first instinct upon meeting him had been to kill the threat he posed, but now, the thought of him being injured or killed brought forth a protectiveness that had previously been exclusive to her team. She also could no longer imagine her life without him in it and she hoped he would take her up on her offer of joining the Hunters.
Never had she allowed herself to imagine she’d ever find someone to love. It wasn’t like she’d grown up in an environment that encouraged that sort of thing. The majority of the Born, in fact, held nothing but disdain for the emotion they considered a weakness, easily exploitable, a tool to be used as leverage against lesser species. Little did those of her kind know, there was nothing soft or weak about what she felt. Did it create a vulnerability that could be used against her? Yes. But her love for Travis, as well as the familial love she felt for her team also gave her another source of strength to draw from. They provided something to fight for. And she would fight to her last breath for each of them. How many of her kind could claim that?
Shaking her head in awe at the discovery, she reached blindly for her phone and unlocked it. Only to find nothing. No snarky text from Kane. No missed call notification or pending voicemail from Jamie. A creeping sense of fear slithered up her spine and she quickly shook Travis awake. “Something’s wrong.”
Travis sat bolt upright, immediately wide awake and alert. “What is it? What’s happened?”
Morgan hastily pulled her clothes on, pausing only long enough to throw Travis his jeans before she slammed her feet into her boots. “I haven’t heard from my team. I know something’s wrong. I have to get back to them.”
To her eternal gratitude, Travis didn’t dawdle, nor did he attempt to assuage her fears with a bunch of ‘what if’ scenarios. She knew her team best, and he didn’t question her authority on the subject. He dressed, armed himself, and grabbed his keys. “Let’s go.”
Alert for a possible attack, they made their way quickly and quietly back to Travis’s truck but there was no sign of any of the vampires that had followed them into the bayou earlier that evening, the wolves having quite effectively taken care of that little problem.
“I won’t be able to get past Rodolfo’s gates,” Travis said once they were on the road. “But I might be able to find a back-way in, slip by unnoticed.”
Morgan shook her head. “Don’t. You can’t risk it when we don’t know what’s waiting for us.”
His jaw tightened to the point where a muscle jerked in his cheek. “I can’t let you go in there alone. Rodolfo is a savage – the things he’s known for…”
Had anyone else told her she couldn’t do something, Morgan would have bitten their head off before making a reckless show of doing it anyway just to prove them wrong. Travis’s concern for her wellbeing, however, actually made her heart thump harder as a warm feeling spread through her chest. He cared about her, even if he hadn’t yet said the words.
Stilling his hand that was tapping impatiently on his thigh with her own, she pointed out, “If something goes sideways, you’re my ace in the hole. Rodolfo won’t be expecting you and we need to keep it that way.”
She could practically see the internal battle he was waging, but in the end, he knew she was right. With a sharp nod, he agreed. “I’ll stay close by in case you need me.”
∞∞∞
Destin Jourdain’s heart was heavy as he walked home from visiting yet another grieving family. This one, for a young man and a talented witch who had just celebrated his twentieth birthday. He’d sat for hours with the grief-stricken parents and their one remaining child as they released their pain with wailing cries, held each other, and then finally, shared tearful memories of a boy who had been a shining light in the world, extinguished far too soon.
The killings had to be stopped. A vampire glutting him or herself on the power-laced blood of a witch, while abhorrent to him would at least be understandable. This was murder, targeted, unprovoked and regardless if he ever learned the why, he needed to put a stop to it, even if that meant owing favors to one of the Born – a position in which he never thought he would find himself.
Morgan Rhys had not been what he’d expected, a fact that might prove a blessing. The Born tended to classify themselves as the superior race, above human law as well as above all others that existed within the supernatural world, yet she hadn’t once looked down her nose at him and not just because of his superior height. There had been no provoking remarks, no disdain in her gaze, no thinly veiled bigotry. She’d met him as an equal, displaying little hesitation in investigating her own kind. He’d witnessed firsthand the truth behind the rumors that surrounded the first of the female Hunters. Morgan Rhys was truly a breed apart. But if she didn’t find something soon, Jourdain would be forced to take matters into his own hands and damn the consequences.
Letting himself into his home, Destin had barely seated himself behind his desk when a crackle of power in the air had him glancing up. A piece of paper appeared, fluttering to land on one of the leather-bound tomes upon his desk.
He glanced over the swirling script written in heavy black ink, frowning at the sequence of words that sent a chill through his heart. Before he could read it again, the missive burst into flames, scorching the expensive hand-tooled cover that concealed a near ancient grimoire.
With a curse that would have had his mother boxing his ears were she awake to hear, he slapped at the book while simultaneously pulling out his phone. Alastair, the head of the coven in Massachusetts. Always such a showoff.
“Explain,” Destin barked as soon as the call connected, in no mood for the usual exchange of pleasantries.
“We’ve lost seven witches in as many days. All of them low-level, talented mostly in sleight of hand and parlor tricks, but still.”
His heart feeling as if it had turned to stone, Destin closed his eyes. The talents and gifts of any witch made no difference, nor their position within the hierarchy. These were his brothers and sisters, his family, and someone or someoneswere butchering them. “Vampires?”
“They weren’t fed upon.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Destin gritted out. “Were the killers vampires?”
Alastair hesitated, perhaps considering his words before he said, “Two of the killings, yes. We’re not sure about the others. The first few looked like accidents, but in hindsight…” the man trailed off, letting Destin come to his own conclusion.
He’d been wrong. This wasn’t some game to amuse a bored Olivier Rodolfo. Whatever was going on went much deeper, was much more insidious. He would need to check in with the other leaders across the country as well as the covens around the world, but his gut was telling him that the vampires had quietly declared war on the Order of Witches.
“Impose a curfew, effective immediately until I get to the bottom of things.”
Disconnecting the call, Destin Jourdain let a tear fall in mourning for those who had been lost, those that might still be lost should something not immediately be done. Then, he sucked in a bracing breath and released his pain in a roar that shook the floorboards. The vampires had no idea of the hell they had just unleashed.
Chapter Eighteen
