Alliance of Shadows, Book 3: HUNTER

Risking Her Wrath

Her slender waist under my hands felt like heaven, the warmth of her skin a striking contrast to the coolness of my touch. The wildflower and saltwater scent she gave off was more intoxicating than a 300-year-old bottle of Madeira, enveloping me in something dangerously irresistible.

She stiffened as I turned her in my grasp, holding her to my chest. The resistance in her body was immediate, instinctive, but fleeting. I traced my index finger over her jawline as I murmured, “Relax, or you'll get sick.”

Her breath hitched—just for a second—before she snapped her eyes shut, forcing herself to comply. “Keep your word to me, and you'll get to keep something precious to all guys everywhere, got it?” The sharp edge in her voice was unmistakable, yet beneath it, something else lurked.

How she went from pissed to concerned and back to pissed so fast was well beyond my capability to understand, but I didn’t need to understand—I only needed to feel. Her forehead rested against my shirt, the scent of sap thick and clinging. The cotton was ruined, yet I barely cared. Stanley was going to pay for this, and I wasn’t going to stop her from giving him a good thrashing.

To hell with the consequences.

Tilting her chin up, I captured her lips with mine, the taste of salt and defiance mingling in a way that made recklessness feel like the only choice worth making. For one taste of her lips, I was willing to risk her wrath. For one single kiss, I was ready to risk death.

By the time she pulled away, we were no longer in my office—I had teleported us inside the small shop that doubled as my Witch friend Magdalena’s hairdressing salon. The scent of rosemary and burnt sage filled the air, a lingering trace of the protective spells Magdalena wove into her business. Bottles of enchanted oils and neatly labeled jars lined the shelves, their contents shimmering faintly under the flickering candlelight.

She paused, her gaze darting around the cozy yet eccentric space before her eyes locked onto mine. “Where are we, Hunter?”

“I distinctly remember telling you I was taking you to the hairdresser's place,” I replied, keeping my tone even.

Her glare sharpened, cutting through the air like a blade. But then—just as quickly—her expression shifted, confusion flickering in her widened eyes.

“You... you kissed me!” she cried, accusation thick in her voice.

I exhaled. Now, how do I get out of this one?

I had kissed her, and that was basically against the rules Logan had set down for me. But in that moment, logic had crumbled beneath the weight of temptation. The press of her lips, the way she had yielded just slightly before pulling away—it had been impossible to resist.

Thinking fast, I shook my head. “My intention was merely to distract you. I meant no harm.”

The words hung between us, flimsy yet desperate, as if I could mold them into a believable excuse. She narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed, but before she could respond, the door swung open, and Magdalena rounded the corner.

Her long brown waves swayed with each graceful step, the scent of enchanted oils trailing behind her like an invisible veil. The golden bracelets stacked on her wrists jingled softly as she set an armload of towels onto the shelf by her desk, exhaling with contentment.

Her eyes lit up when she spotted me. “Hunter, sweetie, what took you so long to come see me?”

Grinning, I pulled her into a quick hug. "It's been hectic lately."

I barely managed to hold back a laugh when Maria growled under her breath. “Keep flirting, Playboy, and I'll give you a reason to have nightmares.”

Magdalena giggled, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You have no worries, lovely. He doesn't have the equipment it takes to please me.”

Maria jerked back, embarrassment flickering over her face like a candle flickering in the wind. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were lesbian.”

“It’s fine, querida,” Magdalena assured her with an easy smile. Her gaze flicked over Maria’s disheveled state, and her expression shifted in an instant. “Oh, Dios Mio, what happened?”

“Stanley,” I ground out, jaw tightening.

Maggie huffed, her irritation palpable as she grabbed Maria’s hand and led her to a chair by the sink. “Lord Stanley needs a dose of his own medicine, si?”

Maria growled, fingers curling into fists. “I’m going to sic Triple Trouble on him.”

As my friend washed out Maria's hair, someone shoved a glass of animal blood in front of me. The thick liquid sloshed slightly in the glass, carrying the metallic tang that never quite lost its appeal. I looked up at Regina, who stood over me with a knowing smirk.

“Your Mate is beautiful, my Lord,” her voice was gentle, reverent in a way that suggested she understood more than she let on.

“I agree, but your Mate is a miracle worker,” I replied, taking a slow drink. The warmth spread through me, settling deep in my gut, as familiar as the centuries I had carried this existence.

She laughed, the sound light but tinged with weight. “I know.”

I leaned back, watching her carefully. “Have you considered getting married yet?”

Regina had been wrestling with the idea, unsure if the local society would accept two women marrying. What she didn’t know—what none of them seemed to realize—was that Logan had already schooled us all on the rules. The Alliance had nothing against same-s*x relations or adoptions. The only real obstacle was the uncertainty in Regina’s own heart.

“We’ve been enjoying the peace and quiet too much to rock the boat, so to speak.” She rubbed her temples, the faintest crease forming between her brows.

I exhaled, swirling the blood absently in my glass. “I’d love to see you rock the boat, Reggie.”

She glanced up, curiosity flickering in her expression.

I hesitated, then let the truth slip through. “Almost three hundred years ago, my father killed my Mate. Now that I've found her again, I refuse to place her in any danger.” The words felt heavier aloud than they did in my own mind. “On the other hand, she's a Gamma, so it stands to reason she can take care of herself.”

Regina blinked, taking in the weight of my admission. “Wow, I never knew that. What other secrets are you hiding in that big brain of yours?”

She was joking, but the words hit a nerve anyway, settling deep in the place where memories never truly faded.

I grinned. “You tend to keep certain things secret when your father is a narcissistic warmonger.”

Regina arched a brow. “Are we still going to be discussing his total take-down?”

I nodded, my expression darkening. "As Jacob would say, it needs to be done fast and furious. He's weakened, but that means nothing if he's managed to garner the respect of the Rogue Vampires who prefer bloodshed to peace."

The quiet hum of crickets filled the darkening twilight, their rhythmic chirps blending with the hushed murmur of Maggie and Maria’s soft chatter across the room. The scent of charred sage lingered in the air, mixing with the faint traces of damp earth that seeped in through the open window. The night was settling in, slow and steady, wrapping around us like an omen of the choices we were about to make.

Regina exhaled, crossing her arms. "We can't let him get the remaining people of that Coven, Hunter. It would upset the balance of our world and make us Vampires public enemy Numero Uno. He still has enough power to influence the minds of anyone willing to listen."

Her words hung in the air, heavier now, punctuated by the distant laugh of Magdalena as she said something to Maria. The contrast was jarring—the ease of their conversation against the weight of ours. But there was no ignoring the truth of what Regina had just said.

I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. "Finding and revealing the truth was enough to bring more than half of his army to our side. Now we have a chance to right the wrongs from the past, and we're not giving up."

I looked at Maggie, who was towel-drying Maria’s hair, her movements practiced and gentle. Wisps of steam curled from the damp strands, the faint scent of rosemary lingering in the air as she worked. Setting the towel aside, she guided Maria to one of her stations, her bracelets jingling softly with the motion.

“How would you like it done up, querida?" Maggie asked, her voice warm, familiar.

“I prefer it braided. It doesn't tangle that way,” Maria replied calmly, her posture steady.

As Maggie parted her hair with skilled fingers, Maria’s gaze flickered toward the mirror. Her green-brown eyes met mine, narrowing slightly, her unspoken challenge evident. The flickering candlelight caught in her irises, making them seem sharper, more intense. I knew that look—knew exactly what it meant.

She was going to confront me when we returned to the manor.

Smiling, I let the thought settle. There was no avoiding the conversation, no slipping past her scrutiny. She would demand answers, and I would have to give them.

But at least it meant she would have to talk to me.