Page 3 of The Hunt
You can’t hide from me, pretty girl.
Once past the treeline, I study the ground for a second, my eyes taking in her footprints. They make no sense, and I smile. “Tricky little witch forgets who I am.” They’re almost in a circle, a few last-minute changes in the direction meant to confuse me, but there’s one set that points straight ahead past our tree.
The only time I’ve lost to her in a skill challenge, we threw knives.
Fifty blades each, and the game? See how many we can embed without them falling out.
My mate cheated, but the blame is mine. The moment her small, delicate hand slid my zipper down and then slipped inside, gripping me, I fumbled the last throw. It’s impossible for me to deny her anything, and more so when those soft lips moan for me.
She won: fifty knives to my forty-nine.
A chuckle escapes me as I pass by the embedded blade that sealed her win and tap the handle. “All’s fair?—”
“In love and war.” Gabriella’s voice comes from a few feet away, and my head snaps up, meeting her eyes. Her slip clings to her skin, soaked silk glinting like shadowed starlight. From her perky tits with hard nipples poking against material, to her wide hips and lithe legs, she’s absolutely gorgeous. A temptation in female form. “Although I don’t think you’re hungry enough.”
“Dangerous words, sweetheart.”
“Or are they honest truths?” At her words, I let out a low hiss. In the past, that sound has made grown men whimper and plead, but my queen merely winks. Slowly. Deliberately. “Did I hit a nerve?”
My cock jerks at the provocation; I feel each bead of pre-come as it slips from the engorged head onto the forest floor below. The demon in me is marking his territory, but it’s not enough.
Nothing but her pinned beneath me or sliding down my cock will ever satisfy this burning need...
Moreover, whatever my pretty girl sees on my face shakes her.
I feel her emotions as if they were my own.
There’s excitement and a little fear, but more than anything it’s...greed.
My pretty girl is just as obsessed with me as I am with her. Lovingly. Brutally.
It’s always us. Only us.
Thunder cracks seconds after lightning strikes the open field behind us, but I pay it no mind.
Nothing and no one exists outside of this moment.
Another hiss slips past my fangs, and she answers with a kittenish sound dripping with approval?—
“Catch me, Theo. I need you to break me.” No sooner has the last word passed through her lips, my little mate turns and runs deeper into the woods. Drops of water run down her lithe body, the fabric stuck to her upper thighs, yet each pump of her legs moves the hem higher and higher until it’s bunched just below the curve of her ass.
Round. Soft. Mine.
Her taunt is both cruel and brilliant. Fire lashes against my skin.
I don’t say anything and watch her slowly get further away from me, a crime in itself, but I’m here to please, and if a bloody chase is what she wants, it’s my honor to draw her blood. My lips curl into a grin that feels more like a snarl, my limbs vibrate with need, and the air seems still with anticipation.
Her magic. My power.
It’s in the mist rising from the ground and the sway of tree limbs, but it’s the heady scent of crimson cherries that drives me wild.
Delicious. So sweet. My cock throbs and jerks, the engorged head sensitive as I throw my head back while a guttural growl builds inside my chest. The sound rolls through the forest, echoing off the trees—her squeal comes a second later.
I take off toward the sound, tracking the trace of her scent and the faint shimmer of our bond. It’s pulsing faintly in the dark, like tiny heartbeats of crimson light that fade as I approach.
A twig snaps a few feet from me, and my head snaps up. “Gotcha.”
“Not even close, King Astor.”
