The Hunters’ Game
1392 Words
I was completely exposed in front of him.
Right now, I must look terrible—curled up in the corner of his wardrobe, my fingers aching, unarmed, and with no way to escape.
"Kill him." I suddenly remembered Michael’s previous order.
But I still wasn’t sure if the man standing in front of me was really a vampire.
If he was, and if I exposed my identity as a hunter now, then in my current defenseless state, I was as good as dead.
With a vampire’s speed and strength, he could tear me apart in an instant if he wanted to.
His hand pressed against the wardrobe door, trapping me in the narrow space.
Click. The sound of the door sealed my way to retreat.
"I’m so curious. What are you doing in my office in the darkness? "
His voice lifted slightly, carrying a hint of amusement—like a predator toying with its prey, enjoying its helpless struggle before the final strike.
Slowly, he raised a hand, his fingertips lightly brushing against my cheek. He paused for a moment, then let them slide down… finally resting under my chin.
"I…" My mind raced. A hundred excuses flashed through my head, probably including every reason I had ever used for a sick leave during the lecture period at the university. But when I met his eyes, I realized… no excuse would work.
"I thought you weren’t in London today, so I wanted to… investigate something."
His lips curved slightly. He leaned in closer, his breath stirring the stray strands of my hair.
"Then, what are you trying to find out?" His voice was alluring.
The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down my spine. My body betrayed me before my mind could catch up
Could I… kiss him?
The ridiculous thought flashed through my mind, but I quickly crushed it.
"You are a hunter, not the prey."
Michael’s warning echoed in my head when he assigned me this mission. Clearly, I had not been careful enough.
A sharp pain from my finger brought me back to reality. Blood was still popping from the wound, throbbing in the silence.
I flinched. My gaze dropped to my hand. A bright red drop gleamed in the darkness.
He saw it too.
"You’re hurt," he murmured, his voice lower now, almost husky, like something heavy was pressing against it.
For a moment, I caught something flicker in his eyes.
Excitement. Hunger. Restraint.
His pupils shrank slightly, like he was holding back an overwhelming instinct.
Instinctively, I wanted to pull my hand back. But before I could, his fingers brushed over my wound, slowly and carefully. His touch was light, reverent, like he was admiring and worshipping a piece of fine art.
The moment his skin made contact with my blood, a strange sensation coursed through me. It was subtle, yet clear—like a serpent’s tongue flicking against my skin, leaving a sense of something cold and electric.
Danger signals blared in my mind, screaming at me to run.
But suddenly, he withdrew his hand—abruptly, as if he’d reached his limit. He turned away, walking out of the wardrobe and switching on lamp on his desk. The warm, dim glow spilled across the room, freeing me from the shadows.
“Please come out.”
His back was to me as he returned to his chair, fingers drumming rhythmically against the desk. His voice was calm again.
I hesitated before stepping out, cautiously taking the seat across from him.
“What were you investigating?” He rubbed the bloodstain on his fingertips before tossing me a bandage to dress my wound.
“I wanted to look into Susanna.” I met his icy blue eyes head-on, refusing to back down. “Ms Lynch's attitude towards me was strange. Her sudden appearance at the meeting, her undefined role in the company, her commanding presence—it all made me curious. And since you know her best, I thought I might find something in your office.”
For a human, my face was probably even paler than his after that scare.
“Did you find anything useful?” He looked at me like a predator toying with its prey. He was not convinced by me.
“You seem... close with Susanna.” The moment these words came out, I nearly freaked myself out. Did I live for too long? Why asking these private things?
“Does that bother you?” However, his expression didn’t change.
With a dismissive wave, he cut off the topic, “We had been close. But I suppose it’s not a news at all.”
“And that bag of blood from Durham?” I pressed on. “What was that about? And why didn’t you expose me?”
“That blood was part of an experiment,” he replied smoothly. “Testing reactions to certain medications. It was a rare blood type, but unfortunately, the bag got torn by the ice packs.”
He sounded convincing. Too convincing. Like telling a lie.
"As for you...” He shook his head, standing up and strolling over to me, his shadow stretching long under the dim light. He bent down slightly, his voice brushing against my ear.
“You’re my new assistant. I haven’t had the chance to see what you’re truly worth yet.”
“What kind of ‘worth’ are we talking about?” I raised an eyebrow, gripping the chair’s armrest.
“Work value of course,” he picked up a document from the desk and signed it effortlessly. “Thanks for delivering these documents. They’re signed. Please send them back tomorrow.”
He closed the folder, then glanced at me again. "It's late. I’ll drive you home."
His tone left no room for discussion.
Not that I wanted to refuse.
For some reason, I didn’t.
Even now, I could still feel the ghost of his touch on my hand.
I never felt this way before.
It was already dinner time.
"Take Bernice home first."
The driver was already waiting by the car.
Of course, the car was luxurious—I had no idea what model it was, but it was clearly expensive. Maybe I should ask Michael to get us a same "hunter's car."
As the car moved through the dimly lit streets, I stared at my hands, lost in thought.
"You know, I saved you from Susanna today," Richard suddenly said, turning to me. "But next time… I might not be able to."
I looked up at him. His eyes were calm, but something about his words made my stomach tighten.
Then—a sudden brake.
I lurched forward, but he caught himself, his hand bracing near my side, his face dangerously close.
I could smell him. A scent that was impossible to describe, but strangely intoxicating.
"Just do your job."
His voice was low. Dangerous but in a patient way.
He always kept me on edge.
The car slowed to a stop. We had arrived at my apartment.
Finally, fresh air.
But then—I saw him.
Standing at the apartment entrance, wearing a black coat.
Michael.
He smiled as I stepped out. "Did you forget about our dinner? You’re late."
…What dinner? Did we plan one? I had no memory of that.
But this clever old fox wasn't the type to show up without a reason.
"Looks like your… friend is quite worried about you."
Richard handed me my handbag.
My hunter's kit was inside!
"I’m her guardian." Michael’s eyes flickered over it before extending a hand.
Gardian? I rolled my eyes. Technically, that was true.
Richard raised an eyebrow, as if pondering the word guardian.
"Richard," he introduced himself, extending a gloved hand. "She worked overtime helping me with work today."
Michael smiled and shook his hand.
Two men. One was a refined scholar. The other, a powerful CEO. If this were a novel, this scene would probably spawn a hundred spin-offs.
For a second, the air froze.
Then, Michael turned to me.
Inside the apartment, I finally asked, “Why are you here? Really for dinner? I don’t want to cook.”
"I also have something to tell you." Michael took his seat at the table.
"Which is?"
"Your mission has been withdrawn. Starting tomorrow, you are not investigating the Langston Group anymore."
- Writer
