Page 98 of Haunting the Hunter
“Ah yes… Your little crusade to save your sister. Very noble of you.” She sneers as she winds the clamp, crushing my other hand. “Your agenda is flawed. He will have his offering and I will be the one to deliver her.” She stands up straight and goes back to the bag, pulling out a soldering iron.
“Who is he?” I groan, doubting I’ll get an answer. “I’m dead anyway. I just want to know the name of the God that claims my only blood.”
She turns the iron on and the tip begins to heat up, glowing softly. She keeps her back to me.
“He goes by many names—only showing himself when needed. I have laid eyes on him only once.” Her voice is quiet and filled with reverence.
“What doyoucall him?” I ask, steeling myself for the pain as she adjusts the iron in her gloved hand, studying the heat as it glows red.
“There,” she says softly, almost admiringly. “Hot enough to leave a lasting impression.”
She kneels beside me, a knife in her other hand, and slices open the fabric of my shirt with clinical precision.
“You’ll carry his name,” she murmurs to me sweetly. “Right over your heart. As it should be.”
The iron touches my skin and the sound—flesh searing—rips through the room.
I’m barely able to stay quiet, sucking sharp, hissing breaths through my teeth.
Each letter burns slowly, and she moves with methodical precision as she engraves the letters into my skin.
“I want you to look at it,” she tells me finally, stepping back to admire her work, a twisted smile on her face. “And remember who owns your bloodline.”
CHAPTER 29
CALLISTO
“Calli! You need to come back!”
Alabaster’s voice slices through the dark like a blade. My vision blurs, body too heavy to hold upright, and I slump back into the mattress.
“I know where he is!” I gasp, trying to stand—only for my legs to buckle, the room spinning. Alabaster catches me before I hit the floor.
“Easy,” he murmurs, cradling me to his chest. “You’re bleeding.”
It’s the way he says it—gentle, careful.
My eyes sting, my face wet. I glance toward the mirror and freeze.
My nose. My eyes. Blood streaks down my cheeks like tears in a horror film.
“What is this?” I ask, voice trembling with a hand frozen halfway to my face.
“You pushed too hard, stayed too long. Magic always takes its toll,” he tells me, his own voice steady. “Your body wasn’t built for what you just did.”
I groan, resting my head against his shoulder. Karma comes up, rubbing against my side. “What does that even mean?”
“It means you have limits.” He says it too gently, like I’ll break if he raises his voice. Then he looks down adoringly at Karma. “She really was worried.”
I look up at him, narrowing my eyes.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m fragile. I’m fine,” I snap, lifting a shaky hand to wipe at my cheek, my free hand caressing Karma’s soft fur.
He doesn’t flinch at my tone, his golden eyes steady on my face.
“No, that you are not.” His tone stays flat, but there’s softness buried beneath it. “Just take it easy, pretty girl.”
He carefully leans me back against the headboard and leaves the room for a moment. I hear the water turn on and off again, and he comes back in with a wet hand towel. Then, without asking, he starts gently cleaning my face.
