The Scarred Huntress

At the Border

I knead his hairy, powerful forearms instead and wiggle my butt so his c**k is snug between my asscheeks. Contented, I admire the pulsing veins in his forearms as he maneuvers the jetski to dry land.

Except there's a problem. We are without clothes. We're nearing the city border. Teeming with construction workers and officials patrolling. They have guns and severe looks on their faces. Worn with the stress and boredom of whatever they might have faced patrolling these parts. The foremost guard is most alert, and there's a cigarette between his lips. The acrid smell brings bad memories.

A plan brews in my head. We should blend in. I tell Icar, and he smirks.

"And here I was thinking you'd just walk through and kill anyone who dares stop you."

I frown. "They're humans."

"And werewolves are different," he says, and I can taste the sarcasm in his tone. I want to strangle him but there's no time for that. The sun is high up and angry, and a headache builds in my skull, and my stomach unleashes a growl. Icar snarls behind me.

"Follow me," he says, and dives into the water, barely making a splash. I follow quickly after, barely evading the officers' prying eyes.

Icar catches my wrist and pulls me deeper underwater. The sun helps me see clearly even though it's dark. Swimming is usually a walk in the park, but now I've only got strength to hold my breath. Icar carries me along. A large school of tiny fishes swirl, and when they clear, there's a heavy shadow looming above us. We swim upwards.

It's the foot of a giant ship.

I gasp for oxygen once we reach the surface, and then I hold my breath. The ship is so enormous that I can't see the top from down here. Icar swims toward it anyway, and I follow.

We stop by the side where a steel ladder greets us. I look up. The ship's bow carves the sun in half, blinding me. I look down. Icar is gone. I jolt when suddenly I'm levitating. He's risen from underwater with me on his shoulder, his head between my legs. Heat sears my cheeks.

"Don't baby me."

"A thank you would suffice."

I kick off him and climb up the ladder. At the top, I look down. He's two rungs below me. I leap over the edge and land in a silent roll till I'm hidden behind cargo boxes. Icar follows shortly after. Then we wait, both of us dripping as we listen for footsteps. Loud, then receding.

I palm Icar's forearm before he can move.

"We're just taking their clothes." I warn. "Don't kill them."

His gaze narrows at me.

"I'll try."

And then he's gone. The deck is silent. Icar's heartbeat is steady. I hear the slight sounds of a scuffle, then a heavy splash, and then another. I leap out of my hiding spot. Icar is holding two neatly folded sets of clothes. No doubt uniforms belonging to the guards he just threw into the open sea. I don't smell blood on him, but—

I rush to look over the edge at the open sea. Crimson dissolving in the water. Two dead bodies hidden in its depths.

"I had to." Icar hands me clothes. "Humans are too resilient."

I clench the fabrics, rough with the scent of the human who once wore them. I smell a softer, different scent. His wife or daughter, maybe. Gone because of Icar. I quickly wear the clothes. A stone settles in my stomach.

"We need to move." Icar grabs me, and for the first time I feel repulsed. I shove him away. He almost tumbles over the edge from my sheer force but manages to catch himself. I stomp toward a toppled-over cube container big enough to house me and close myself inside. Footsteps thud against the deck. I count four men. Icar's heartbeat remains steady. The deck goes silent again, and the powerful tang of blood claws my nostrils. My stomach is a damn traitor. I remain squatting in the box for a while till my knees start to ache. The scent of blood overpowers the sea. I feel the box topple, and cold wet air slaps me once Icar yanks open the lid.

He squats before me while I remain in the box, on my belly. The sun highlights the contours of his face as well as the golden flecks in his eyes, sharp with understanding and something darker as his gaze roams my curled-up body.

"Come outside, Huntress. You're too beautiful to hide."

He disobeyed me. He doesn't get to use sweet words like that. It would have been easier to punch his face if he'd been leering, but his eyes are soft and sincere, patient and waiting as if certain that I'll come to him in the end, like he's my only shot at survival. He's wrong. I remain where I am.

He sighs and rises to his feet.

"I know a steakhouse," he says, gives me his back, and walks away.

How dare he. I stumble out and rush after him, salivating at the image of grilled meat. He slows down so I can catch up, but I walk past him, and that is when he grabs my wrist.

"For someone lost, you're very good at pretending you know where you're going."

I break out of his hold. "I know where I'm going. This is my world and my life." I jab a finger at his chest. "Not yours."

He smirks. I keep going lest I slap him. He lets me, and I hate him for that. I hate myself more. I can feel my wolf about to cry. She doesn't, because he's closed the distance between us. He laces his fingers through mine again. I push him away before I can fold.

"Don't touch me," I snap.

"What's going on here?" a voice calls. It belongs to the man walking toward us, weary eyes assessing.

"Miss," he says after eyeing Icar, "is this young man troubling you?"