Page 69 of Corpse Roads

I quickly take control of myself, releasing his waist. “S-Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

His thumb is still on my bottom lip. With the care of a skilled warrior tracking down his prey to devour, Hunter slips the roughened digit between my lips. I hardly know how to react.

As the very tip of his thumb touches my tongue, a delicious, tingling warmth pools between my legs. I feel my cheeks flush at the sensation. It feels so good. What is he doing to me?

“Hunter,” I whimper around his thumb.

He takes a huge step back, staring at me like he can’t quite believe what just happened. I immediately feel cold. The distance between us is agonising. I can’t breathe with him so far away from me.

“I’m being unprofessional,” he curses himself. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing. This… we… us, it can’t happen.”

“What can’t happen?” I ask cluelessly.

His eyes burn in low embers. “Jesus, Harlow. Never mind. Go back to bed. We can figure things out in the morning.”

Snapping the first aid kit shut, he busies himself, shoving it away with a loud clatter. I gulp hard and slide down from the counter, feeling like I’ve been punched in the chest.

His dismissal hurts more than I thought it would. I leave Hunter washing the blood from his bruised face, still breathing hard as he tries not to look at me again.

“Sorry,” I whisper before walking away.

His scent clings to the sheets of his unmade bed as I walk past. The urge to climb in and nestle down is so strong, my feet almost carry me over to it. All I can think about is his arms around me.

I have to make myself leave, escaping the lion’s den before he swallows me whole. The walk back to my bedroom is marked by emptiness as tears threaten to spill down my cheeks.

Hunter really must hate me.

He doesn’t want me—whatever it means to be wanted.

I wonder what that’s like.

CHAPTER 15

HUNTER

THE MADNESS - FOREIGN AIR

“Sabre Security has confirmed that a living victim has come forward,” the newscaster explains. “She is said to be in protective custody and cooperating with the investigation.”

Watching the news coverage from behind my desk, I rub my aching temples. We’re about to drop an atomic bomb. Our non-disclosure window has run out and we’re shit out of luck.

A reporter taps the comms in his ear. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’re receiving breaking news that another body has been found.”

Chaos ensues as they read through the statement we released to the national news agency. We kept details to a minimum, confirming Whitcomb’s death without giving any more information.

Her next of kin, a seventeen-year-old brother, has been informed. He was the one who raised the alarm when his sister and main caregiver didn’t return home from work.

Now, he has nothing more than a bone to remember her by. They were dirt poor, living on the poverty line. I’ve already instructed one of our teams to arrange a funeral, courtesy of Sabre. It’s the least we can do.

My phone buzzes on the desk.

“Rodriguez.”

“Hunter,” Lucas greets with a heavy sigh. “Well, it’s going down as well as expected. Interview requests are flooding in already.”

“Deny them all.”

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