Page 22 of The Hunt
Clever, stubborn woman.
I’d had a nice surprise for her tonight, but this changes things.
Turning from my desk, I stretch my neck as the runes along my spine flare, adjusting to the missing calm. Each mark vibrates, as does the physical counterpart on my desk, feeding off each other while my sense of rationality dims to near nonexistence.
I’m not weakened by this, but rather freed.
You made a grave mistake, dear wife.
A big one. A very angry one.
I step into the hallways, head tilted to the side, listening for any sound of life, and find nothing. Silence greets me; no footsteps, no heart, no breaths but mine exist. Something that would be impossible for a coven as loud and full of life as ours, but quiet like this can only mean one thing.
Anaya.
The royal house is always open to our people. Since the fall of Larue and his criminal court, the witches and the fae have lived in peace amongst each other. Two worlds bound by a fragile, hard-fought trust. We have an open passage between the two lands, a give-and-take friendship forged from loss.
Hope blooms where once there was none.
The upstairs is empty and so is the downstairs, but a door near the back is wide open with what looks to be lace crumbled on the ground. It’s lavender, my mate’s favorite color, and I pick it up as lightning cracks in the distance. In my hands, I hold a pair of worn underwear, her scent on the gusset fresh as is the spot of her arousal right over where the cleft of her pussy touched the fabric.
Delicate and tiny and meant to tease.
She’s leading me. Guiding me.
I answer the call through our bond, sending a pulse of desire to her, but curling around that hunger, there’s ire. More so when she doesn’t answer me. Pocketing her panties, I gaze around the back gardens, a glow of faint silver under the moon. The pathway is lit by solar fairy lights, the light breeze making them appear like lazy, drifting fireflies.
Past the garden, and her scent deepens…
Strawberries and cream. My favorite dessert.
Then wings, distant but distinct. A feather-light giggle riding the wind.
My pulse pounds, and the wards along the familial property hum as I pass them into the woods. I catch sight of blonde hair and violet eyes staring at me from behind a cluster of trees, but I blink and it’s gone.
An illusion. Yet her laugh doesn’t disappear; it lingers.
It carries through the breeze, then swirls around me, tugging at the invisible bond that keeps us connected. I stop walking and shrug off my shirt, fold it once, and drop it on a chair that absolutely should not be sitting in the middle of the forest.
She’s playing.
Not hiding, but unafraid.
Another flicker—her silhouette in lavender, dancing beneath the dark sky. She’s wearing a short dress in the same shade of purple as the panties inside my pocket, and I growl her name low as her hands skim down her sides and to the hemline. Anaya seductively sways her hips, knowing exactly what she’s doing to me.
My mate lifts the fabric higher with each slow roll of her hips until bare pussy lips come into view.
I’ve been blessed by the Gods. My eyes catch every sinuous curve and the wetness shining on her inner thighs—I take a step closer, but she disappears again. I shake my head to clear it, the humor slipping away as my need grows and cock jerks behind the zipper of my jeans.
The taut skin digs into the metal teeth as my side of the bond is yanked, pulling me in her direction. I don’t know where she is or how far she’s gone, but I can feel her close. Amused and proud of herself.
That sets off the second wave of agitation. My blood heats up at her glee-like edge.
She’s outright daring me. Not in trouble, much less afraid of the consequences, but she’s going to be when I find her. I wander deeper into the forest and away from the absolute silence of our home. I’m not far from our land’s edge?—
A hard thump in my chest stops me cold as her much-earned, humor-laced punishment turns into heated anger.
From playful to I need to find her before I burn everything around me to a crisp.
