Page 2 of The Hunt
Every single one is mine.
My footsteps are slow at first, boots heavy against marble, and each one is deliberate as I move closer to the staircase landing. There, I stop. From the highest floor overlooking the elegant foyer, I find her…
Hair a blaze of red against gold and black décor.
Her back is to me, and her head is tilted to the side.
A slow shiver runs down her spine as lightning cracks outside the windows.
I smirk at the tiny beauty. Compared to me, she’s a doll.
A very naughty one, as my nose twitches and eyes focus on a trail of sanguine beads stopping at her feet. There, they create a small pool; I notice a cut on her wrist where she’s nicked herself on purpose.
And when she turns, looking at me from over her shoulder, I find my answer.
Challenge in her eyes. Lips stained red and curved up into an alluring smile.
A hybrid. Part witch. Part vampire.
The best of both worlds, and her small fangs slick with blood, is a challenge I accept.
“I love you, Gabriella.” My voice is deep, the visceral manifestation of the demon she’s taunted. “You are my world and the owner of this dead heart, pretty girl, but tonight…” I trail off, my chest vibrating with her purr as I remove my shirt and then pants, the tattered remains landing on the floor. I’m naked before her. Every inch of me is hard and throbbing. “Tonight, I will fuck you like my whore and bathe you in my come. I will feed from you, my mate. I will hurt you.”
Her smile is as dangerous as she is. Red lips are lush. “I’m not afraid of you, Theodore. Do your worst.”
“Good girl.” My lips curve into a smug grin, but it drops a second later. My little prey has made a brave, yet very silly mistake. Eyes on mine, Gabriella lifts her wrist to her face and drags the bloodied mess down her cheek and the curve of her throat.
Over her pulse point.
The scent is powerful and rich. The literal definition of provocation.
“Are you okay, my king? Is there something you need?” she sing-songs, but I don’t respond. Instead, I fight back the need to satiate this pulsing hunger. Not yet. Because if there’s anything a monster enjoys more than his meal…it’s the chase.
To stalk. To revel in the scent of fear.
For one hundred and twenty seconds, I just stand and watch her.
I catalog the changes in her breathing and the nervous twitch of her fingers. How her breathing accelerates and the smirk on those red-stained lips becomes a pout.
Plump fucking mouth.
“Run.” One word. A promise and a threat.
And it has its desired effect. I’m not her mate and husband at the moment.
The door slams open, banging against the wall as my pretty girl sprints through the rain. There’s a small, kittenish sound that leaves her as I count to ten. I let her put distance between us. Feel the thrum of her powers as her magic tries to weave false trails, yet the bond between us denies each one.
There isn’t anywhere in this world my pretty girl could hide from me.
“Eight…nine…ten.” Then I move as the world narrows down to her scent and the soft padding of her bare feet running across the wet field heading toward the forest. A rush of adrenaline pulses through me at that; I grip myself and give two slow pumps, savoring the moment. Pre-come beads and slips from the engorged head, the drops staining the marble floor as I slowly walk down each step.
A twist of my wrist and then the slide of my thumb heighten my need as I listen to her run.
I fuck my tight fist until reaching the final landing, and only then do I let go.
“Sanguis venari.” Blood hunt.
Shadows bend around me as I run out the door, making it to the center of my guard’s training field as she crosses into the crops of trees lining the forest. She hides within its darkness as the light mist turns into steady rain, small peaks of red catching my eye as the moon slips through the cropping. Gabriella is cunning and clever, I give her that. She’s trying to mask herself again, but the decadent bloom of wetness pooling between her thighs is a beacon no amount of magic can hide.
