Tempting the Huntress

Chapter 2- We meet again!

Lilith woke before dawn, as she always did, the cold floorboards biting at her bare feet. Her shoulder throbbed where the wolf had pinned her yesterday, a raw reminder of failure that gnawed at her pride.

She lay in bed a moment longer, eyes fixed on the ceiling, replaying every second of the attack. The wolf’s claws, the way her dagger had faltered, the searing heat of fear, she hated herself for it.

I shouldn’t have hesitated. I should have been faster. I should have killed it.

Her breath came sharp, controlled, a ritual she had learned before she could even walk. Discipline was the backbone of the Rothwell name, and she had broken it yesterday.

By the time the first light of Ravenshore bled through the slats of her window, she was already kneeling on the clearing, dagger in hand. She ran through her drills like a soldier in the field, the way her father had drilled her: stance, wrist, grip, flick, strike.

Every motion precise, every breath measured. Sweat beaded her brow, mixing with the sting of fresh scrapes, but she refused to stop.

Her reflection in the window mocked her, pale and furious, eyes bright with raw determination.

No one can see weakness in a Rothwell. Not monsters, not men, not even yourself.

But he saw it. His smirk, the infuriating ease in his stance, the way her instincts had screamed wrong… it clung to her like a phantom, slipping into her mind despite herself. She hated it.

I don’t do distractions.

Lilith had dated before. Encounters, purely transactional, mutual benefit, nothing more. Pleasure used as a tool, a shield, a way to pass time.

Nothing had ever lingered. Nothing had ever mattered.

Love was a weakness. It slowed the body, clouded judgment, and made hunters like her vulnerable.

She had no room for it. No patience. No desire.

Still, the thought of him pricked like a thorn she couldn’t dislodge. Her shoulder throbbed again as she drove the dagger into a practice post, fists clenching around the handle.

She gritted her teeth, forcing his image out from her mind, but the thought returned even as she rolled across the frost-hardened grass, lunged, parried, spun.

I will not be distracted. I will not falter again.

Hours passed. Her arms burned. Her shoulder protested with every pivot and swing, but she welcomed it. Pain was proof she was alive, proof she was still capable of learning, of surviving. By the time she finally paused, gasping and slick with sweat, the cliffs outside glowed with the early morning sun, with the sound of waves below her.

She strapped the dagger back to her thigh, testing its weight, feeling the hum of runes beneath her palm. Her gaze lifted to the forest line where the wolf had appeared. Nothing moved. No eyes glimmered in the underbrush. Not a single raven in the sky.

–

Lilith stepped out into the chill of Ravenshore morning, the wind curling around her like a living thing. She pulled her coat tighter and let her boots lead her down the cobbled streets toward the little bakery she had spotted yesterday.

Inside, the warmth hit her first, soft and buttery, followed by the rich, heady aroma of chocolate and fresh bread. She didn’t linger on pleasantries except for a quick ‘bonjour’; her eyes scanned the display, picking out the perfect pain au chocolat.

Today, she was searching for a car. Her parents, ever practical, had arranged for someone from the academy to assist her, a girl named Francoise, but Lilith had declined. “I’ll see you Monday,” she had said, crisp, final, letting no hint of curiosity or politeness soften the refusal.

She didn’t need a guide. She needed control. Independence. Her parents called last night, a curt call, but she kept the attack from them. She can’t let them see her fail again. They never let her live down the attack she had faced as a teenager. Her hands grazed the mark.

Hours later, she found herself in a small, sun-faded lot at the edge of town. The car she settled on was a little battered, a touch older than she would have liked, but it ran smoothly and could do the job. It was enough.

The Rothwells had wealth, yes, but their philosophy at the academy was clear: you earned your tools, your survival, your mastery. No silver spoons, no handouts. Every Rothwell learned to stand on their own two feet, even if those feet wobbled at first. Only then are they worthy of the family’s fortune.

Lilith actually admired that about her family.

And yet, as she drove the narrow streets back toward her apartment, she felt the faint ache of anticipation and annoyance. Not everyone at the academy followed the same rigorous code. Some were brats, spoiled children of privilege who had never felt the weight of survival pressing on their shoulders.

Lilith’s jaw tightened. Dealing with them would be… tedious, if not outright infuriating.

But she had survived worse. If her family way had taught her anything, it was that obstacles, no matter how gilded or irritating, were merely another battlefield. And Lilith Rothwell never backed down from a fight.

The car coughed. Once. Twice. Then the engine sputtered like it had swallowed seawater. Lilith’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, her knuckles pale as the vehicle shuddered to a halt in the middle of a narrow Ravenshore lane.

She cursed under her breath. Of course.

“Urgh!! I can’t catch a break.” Lilith groaned, banging her hand against the wheel.

She tapped her phone, pulling up the first workshop that appeared on Google Maps. A grim-looking garage tucked behind the fish market, marked with a faded sign: “Turbo & Co.”

She grimaced. It would do.

The garage smelled of oil and sea salt, its corrugated roof rattling against the wind. Tools clinked somewhere in the back, and the low hum of music, an old blues track, moody and slow, threaded through the air. Lilith stepped inside, looking for someone to help her.

And then—her stomach dropped.

He was there.

The man from last night. The stranger who had sent the wolf scattering.

He was leaning against a workbench, sleeves rolled up, grease streaked across his forearm. The dim light caught on the sharp angles of his jaw, on that dark, tousled hair that seemed designed to fall into his eyes. Gold-gray eyes, now fixed squarely on her.

For one suspended second, neither of them spoke. The recognition hit them both like static in the air, sharp, undeniable.

His smirk came first. Of course it did. The urge to roll her eyes was fighting inside her.

“Well, well. If it isn’t dagger-girl.Told you we would see each other again.” His voice curled into the space between them, smooth and amused. “What are the odds?”

Lilith stiffened. “Too high for my liking.”

He pushed off the bench, the easy confidence in his stride making her pulse twitch against her will. “Looks like fate wants us to keep running into each other. Can’t say I’m complaining. If I didn’t know you, I would say you are stalking me.”

“You don’t know me, and stop with that creepy smile.” She interrupted him.

“This,” he pointed to his mouth. “Oh, come on, never heard any complaints about it.” He glanced past her to the car. She rolled her eyes behind his back. “That's yours? Brave choice. She’s got character.”

“She’s broken,” Lilith snapped. “Can you fix it, or should I find someone who actually knows what they’re doing?”

He chuckled, slow and unhurried, as though her bite only entertained him. “Ah, there it is. The fire.” He wiped his hands on a rag, eyes never leaving hers. “Don’t worry, dagger-girl. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

She didn’t like the way her pulse betrayed her, quickening despite the steel in her tone. She didn’t like that her dagger, hidden beneath her coat, was silent, neither warning nor humming, as though it too was caught in his presence.

Lilith crossed her arms, forcing her gaze steady. “If this is some kind of game, I’m not playing. I need this fixed, so get to it.”

He tilted his head, that infuriating smirk tugging wider. “Who said it was a game?” His voice dipped, softer now, too close, like the brush of shadows in the dark. At her squinted eyes, he backed off, “I will get to it.”

Lilith’s jaw tightened. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to put a blade to his throat or kiss that throat. Her eyes widened at her own thoughts. She was definitely leaning towards the first option. Or that's what she told herself.

“I am Zane, by the way.”

He extended a hand, grease smudged across his knuckles. Lilith hesitated, every instinct screaming don’t. But she slid her palm into his anyway.

The spark hit instantly. A jolt of heat shot up her arm, lighting every nerve in her body. For a split second, his expression cracked—smirk slipping, eyes narrowing as if something raw had cut through him. Startled. Unshielded. Almost pained.

Then it was gone. The grin returned, lazy and infuriating. He squeezed lightly, casually. Pretending.

Lilith mirrored him, her face carved into indifference even as her pulse betrayed her. She pulled her hand back too quickly, shoving it into her coat pocket.

“Zane,” she repeated flatly, as though saying his name would ground her. “Fix the car.”

He did. Efficient, steady hands moving over the engine like he’d been born with a wrench instead of fingers. No fumbling, no wasted movement, irritatingly competent. Lilith stood by with arms crossed, watching him with sharp suspicion even as the minutes ticked away.

Finally, he straightened, wiping grease onto the rag again. “All good. She’ll run smoothly now.”

Lilith ignored the jab and dug into her wallet. “How much?”

He waved her off. “Forget money.” Then his grin flashed, wicked and bright. “You can pay me with coffee.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Coffee. You know, the brown liquid people drink in the morning. Usually comes in a cup.”

“No.”

He arched a brow. “That quick? Ouch. Brutal.”

“I’m not interested.” She slid a note onto the workbench anyway, but he pushed it back toward her with two fingers.

“You can keep your cash. I’d rather have the coffee.” His gaze locked on hers, playful but insistent. “At least give me your number. That way, if your car decides to have another breakdown, I can be your knight in greasy armor.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You are one unsolicited message away from being blocked.”

He chuckled, unbothered. “Noted.”

She shoved her phone into his hand, only to snatch it back the moment he was done tapping. Numbers exchanged. “Should I just put dagger-girl as…”

Lilith got into the car, relief flickering when the engine purred to life beneath her hands.

“Lilith.”

She didn’t look at him as she pulled out of the lot, didn’t give him the satisfaction of a final word.

But as she glanced into the rearview mirror, there he was. Zane stood in the garage’s doorway, phone raised to his ear, and that maddening smile cutting across his face like he knew something she didn’t.

And just then her phone rang...