Hunter
A tall man stood up and extended his hand in her direction. “Hunter,” He said. Emily found herself staring at the tattoos running down his right arm, covering all of his caramel skin. From where she was they look like flowing, loopy script, but she couldn’t quite make it out. When she came downstairs in search of coffee, the last thing she expected to be confronted with was a strikingly handsome man, a wide smile on his face, sitting in one of the dining room chairs. “Huh?” She answered dumbly. She may have slept some last night, but she didn’t exactly feel very rejuvenated this morning. “Hunter,” He repeated, standing up from the table, his tattooed arm still floated in the space between us. Still bleary-eyed, Emily realized his must have been the voice she heard talking with Eon in the
- Writer
