Page 113 of Haunting the Hunter
“We could say I’m a witch, too. I have been helping you hone your magic. That you told me your situation—but not Cade’s part.”
“So you know I’m hiding from a creepy cult, but not that my brother is out there trying to murder them all?” she says, thinking it over. “Do you really think this could work?”
“Clearly you underestimate me. Fooling a mortal witch is nothing.”
“Well, I could feel you,” she says, and I smirk, hand reaching up to grip her biceps.
“I wanted you to.”
She smiles down at me, and I bring my lips to the top of her forehead. “If I didn’t you never would have seen me coming.”
She pulls out an electric razor at that and flips it on, pressing it to the side of my head without warning.
“It would also explain the magic I still give off,” I add. “I’m limited in this form—but not completely useless.”
She finishes trimming around my ears, then grabs me by the wrist and drags me to the bathroom—shoving my head toward the sink and turning on the water.
“You really love manhandling me, don’t you?” I say, head bent into the basin.
“Maybe,” she replies, and I can hear the damn smile in her voice.
She towel-dries my hair and steps back. I lift my head and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Jet-black hair. Shaved sides. Longer on top.
Aside from the hair?
What a fucking downgrade.
“About that name. Any ideas?” she asks, eyeing me like she just finished an art project and nailed it.
“My friends call me Kai,” I say plainly. It’s true. Where I’m from, names aren’t shared freely, they’re sacred—but it’s the name I’m known by. My given name? Too many humans know it already. It’s almost embarrassing.
I look forward to her brother correcting that.
She squints at me. “You have friends?”
I chuckle and scoop her up, setting her on the edge of the sink. I nip at her collarbone, then trace a line up her neck with my mouth. She laughs softly into me, melting just a little.
“Kai is perfect,” she says, her eyes heavy and full of hunger.
I hear her heartbeat stutter, then race. She pulls me into a kiss, hands already tugging at my shirt, clumsy and impatient. I break the kiss just long enough to rip it off and toss it to the floor, then lift her and carry her to her room like I already own it.
I lay her down and lean over her, kissing her neck—slow and greedy. She lets out a soft moan, the sound driving me insane. My dick is already standing at attention, ready to ruin her.
She grabs my neck and pulls me closer, rolling us so she’s on top. I grin up at her as she straddles me. My hands slip under her shirt and tear the fabric clean down the middle.
She’s already unbuckling my belt—quick, practiced fingers—before she pauses. Holding it up.
“May I?” she asks, sweet as sin.
I groan softly, cupping her breasts and rocking my hips against her. “Yes, please.”
She loops the belt around my neck and pulls—tight but careful. Just enough to claim me.
I unfasten my jeans, sliding them down enough for my cock to spring free. She glances down and grins.
“At least that didn’t change.”
That wicked little smile is going to ruin me.
