Page 5 of The Hunt
“Isa…?”
“They’re not alone tonight,” Isabella says, voice low and full of emotion. She’s not looking at me—her gaze is fixed somewhere beyond, straight through me—but whatever she sees makes her happy. Almost deliriously so. That same warmth floods through me, rippling across my skin until I swear I can feel our mother’s joy. My father’s pride. “Others are speaking.”
The water inside the bowl begins to swirl while the stones within the circle begin to pulse. They represent their offspring; a trace of our magic is embedded in each one.
Isa jerks forward, gasping. “Oh Gods.”
“What do you see, Sister?”
“Blood.” Her voice trembles, bathed in excitement. I move closer and place my hand over hers on Dad’s grimoire. I don’t ask for her to elaborate. Instead, I give her a moment to blink a few times before her gaze settles on mine. The irises are gold before they flick back to her natural, baby blue. “New blood, Gabby. Three heartbeats beneath the next full moon, and they bring new gifts.”
At once, the candles extinguish one by one, plunging us into darkness. Our parents’ presence also vanishes, leaving my sanctum cold.
“But that’s…” I stare at her, my chest tight. “And three?”
“Yes.” Isabella nods, her smile radiant in the dark. “Three different cries.”
“How soon? To whom?”
“A gift created beneath the next full moon and born to the three Wiccan royals…”
Present
The ground seems to tremble beneath my feet as Theo stalks behind me. He’s letting me run ahead, amusing me by falling behind as I try to put some distance between us. I’m slipping between trees, ignoring the branches scratching my arms as my chest rises and falls with exhilaration.
I’m thrumming. A live wire of adrenaline and magic—part fear, part deep-seated craving.
For pain. For pleasure. For him.
Energy hums all around me—every heartbeat echoes in my ears as life breathes out its acknowledgement. I feel each pulse of the world around us: the life sleeping in the soil and the breath of dying leaves…
It bows to me.
Because I’m its balance. The one blessed by death.
Power flickers beneath my skin, at times too wild, and I draw it in, letting it roll through my veins as it sings. It’s intoxicating. Sparks of life whisper to me, but one voice will forever rise above them all.
His. Always him.
Theodore’s presence is impossible to ignore. It roars through the bond between us, dark and steady—relentless. A beacon in the chaos. He’s my home.
And even when I run, my body still turns slightly toward him, like a compass seeking its north.
“Smug old bastard. All snarl, but no bite,” I say, and it comes out like a whimper. He’s so close…
“I’m going to make you pay for that remark, pretty girl. Mouth, cunt, and ass.” The heat in his words cause me to shiver, almost stumble on a large root sticking out of the ground, and he takes advantage. Sharp claws graze my back, from lower back to the base of my neck, and the sting only serves to heighten my desires. A moment of pain with a promise of pleasure, and each wound blooms, the rich scent of copper headier.
Sanguine rivulets stain my clothes, sticking to my skin. The scratches aren’t too deep, and I ignore the discomfort and pump my legs a little harder. He keeps my pace but lets me stay just out of reach, right before I slip inside a hollow tree with an exit on the other side. It’s a straight-through shot, one he can easily counter by running ahead of me, but all I get is a sharp tug to my curls.
Hard. Fast. That jolt settles on my clit.
It causes my entire body to spasm, my hands shooting out to steady myself against the tree wall as my core clenches and my wetness coats my upper thighs. I’m swollen and sensitive. Throbbing, but the ruler of all vampires merely chuckles while leaning against the opening.
Crimson eyes watch me from beneath long lashes, his eyes hooded, while each muscle in his body contracts. Theodore is fighting back his instincts, and that won’t do.
Turning, I fully face him while gripping the bottom edge of my slip and pulling the ruined garment over my head. I’m bare beneath. Wet, bleeding, and at his mercy—his answering snarl sends a shiver through me.
He takes a menacing step toward me, dick hard and pointing upward toward his stomach, and I watch in delight as Theo grips himself and strokes once, then two more times. He keeps his hold tight as he takes me in, and the way his gaze roams me is feral. Unhinged.
