Page 16 of The Hunt
Loved so thoroughly and deeply that it feels like the first time all over again.
“Last chance, female. Come to me.”
“No,” I call over my shoulder. We’re almost there, but I made a mistake, taking my eyes off the prize. He’s closer than I expect, only two steps behind me, and I stumble a bit. Not enough to fall, but the second wasted righting myself lands me in his grasp. “Oh shit!”
“Gotcha.” I’m tossed in the air, a scream ripping from my throat before Xadiel catches me. His fur is soft and so warm against my bare flesh, his chest vibrating with a purr that promises retribution. At seven feet tall, he stands proud and hard—every sinuous muscle flexing for me in a show of strength.
Black irises look down at me, the small ring of gold a reminder of his human side, but even that disappears when his nose twitches, head snapping toward the cave entrance. His steps are large and imposing, eating up the space quickly before he pushes open the thick, velvet curtain aside. It’s in the same shade of green as our pack’s crest.
Through our bond, I sense his confusion, but the moment we step over the threshold, it all changes. Once inside, the golden glow of a well-stoked fire greets us. The chimney was built to lead the smoke out the other side of the cave, invisible to anyone on this side of the dwelling. Its glow is warm and inviting, while a large mattress sits at the center of the room atop a plush rug.
There’s a cooler with food. Plenty of fabrics and pelts to keep us warm. A small stream runs along the left wall for fresh water…
His scent and mine are intertwined, creating a comforting perfume that soothes his beast and my witch. Us.
“Goddess, Isabella.” His black eyes turn molten honey for a second, soft and full of love. “What a special little treasure you are.”
“You like?”
“I have no words for how much this means to me,” he says. The deep timbre of his voice runs through me, and goosebumps rise across my sensitive skin. It’s a tone I know: love and wonder tangled with something heavier.
Gratitude. Awe. Pride.
Xadiel looks around slowly, as if memorizing everything inside—from the smallest item to the intimate touches throughout the den. The flicker of firelight paints his features in gold, softening the savage edges. For this small moment, my king isn’t the predator, but a man stripped bare by something simple and given with love.
I swallow hard, heat burning behind my eyes. “It’s yours. For when the rut takes hold.”
This isn’t our alpha home, not the polished halls where we rule here or in England. No. These walls belong to something older. Wilder. Without barriers or rules.
His gaze finds mine again, tender and full of need. “A den.”
I nod. “A sanctuary. A special place where you never have to hold back.”
“You built me a place to lose control.” Xadiel takes in a deep breath again, chest expanding as he swallows hard. Furs and stone, the faint sweetness of jasmine threaded through it, while a woodsy note rounds out the scent. “And you made it beautiful.”
“I love you, Xadiel.”
“You are my heart.” Holding me close to his chest, he walks toward the running stream and drops to one knee. He situates me on his raised thigh, grip careful as one arm cradles my back and the other hand washes my feet with reverence. Slowly, he cleans one, then the other, before moving us to the bed.
There, he retakes his place on the floor in front of me, using an old shirt I pilfered from his hamper—it’s unwashed and smells of him after a workout. I’d tucked the white piece next to my favorite fuzzy blanket, and now that scent is being dragged over me from my feet to my legs until it’s dropped and my thighs are parted.
Large, clawed hands grip my thighs, the tips breaking skin as I’m pulled to the edge. The sting drags a soft whine from me—a sound that pulls at the beast lurking just beneath his surface. And like I yanked his chain; Xadiel answers the call. One heartbeat, he’s my loving mate; the next, he’s a beast born of hunger and the need to claim.
His wife. His female. Me.
“Look at me,” he rumbles, voice roughened by restraint. His eyes are dark again, no gold this time, and the black staring back at me is all-consuming. My wolf. Even on his knees, while I sit on the bed, he towers over me—crowds and overwhelms—but I love it. It makes me feel small and delicate against his much harsher planes. “Every breath you take belongs to me tonight, Little Moon. Every sound.” His timbre drops again, vibrating through me. “I own your pleasure. Your pulse. Your heart.”
“I’m yours.”
“Forever mine.” One of his large hands skims from my thigh to ribcage, his touch almost featherlight, until he grips my hair and yanks my head back. My lips part on a gasp, the sting settling where I’m most sensitive, but that quickly turns into a moan when his lips smash to mine.
This kiss is possessive. Dominant and all-consuming.
My alpha kisses me hard enough to steal the breath from my lungs—demanding my surrender, one that I give willingly. I moan, a keening sound he responds to with a grunt, while those clawed fingers wrap around my red hair—grip tight.
Another pull, the pain mingling with the pleasure of his tongue, a sensation I’m helplessly addicted to. His taste is no different. Purely male. Pure him.
Xadiel tilts my head to his liking; his fangs drag across my kiss-swollen lips. The sharp canines break the skin, and a few drops of blood pool there, but before they fall, he licks each one. His growl at the taste is deep and guttural, like a predator savoring his prey.
