His Little Hunter

Chapter 4

ALLISON

My eyes remained fixed on the empty space where the Royal had stood, the ghost of his presence still pressing down on my lungs. The threat was gone, I was safe, yet my heart continued to hammer against my ribs like a trapped bird, the rhythm so frantic it made my sensitive ears throb.

Nothing else registered. The wind, the sirens, the groans of my squad, it all faded into white noise. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. The fear he had stirred up was so potent it tasted like copper on my tongue.

A Royal... Here, of all places.

I knew it was impossible to avoid crossing paths with the aristocracy of the undead given my occupation, but I never imagined meeting one again this soon. I always thought I'd be prepared when the day finally came. I thought I had buried that scared little girl deep enough.

But I wasn't ready. I still wasn't over it. I still wasn't over what HE did to me.

From the twin vampires nearly feeding on me to the Royal’s terrifying intervention, it was obvious I wasn't nearly as ‘healed’ as I pretended to be.

My hand convulsed around the hilt of my blade, slick with sweat. Memories of a dark cell, of cold stone and hot blood, flooded my thoughts. The steel in my hand brought no comfort, it only reflected the wicked memories I tried so desperately to keep chained.

You aren't that weak, helpless little girl anymore, I told myself. You are the Mortal Reaper. You are strong. You are feared.

But fear didn't listen to reason. It was a primal thing, ancient and deaf.

Air became a luxury I couldn't afford. My vision began to tunnel, black spots dancing at the edges of my sight. The phantom sensation of fangs at my throat made me claw at my own neck.

The feeling was all too familiar. I was standing at the edge of a panic attack, and I was about to fall.

"Allison!"

Warm, heavy hands clamped onto my shoulders.

A sudden, commanding voice jolted me out of the spiral. My eyes finally dragged away from the rooftop to meet a pair of deep, storm-grey eyes staring down at me.

Damien.

My knees buckled and if it weren't for his strong arms hauling me up against his chest, I would have crumpled to the concrete.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice gentle but firm, an anchor in the storm.

I obeyed, focusing on the grey pools that held none of the red I feared.

"Good girl. Now breathe. In and out. Slowly."

I tried to mimic the rise and fall of his chest, forcing air into my starving lungs. "Easy now, Al. You're okay," Damien whispered, pulling me closer until my face was buried in the crook of his neck. He smelled like gunpowder and rain, scents I’d come to perceive as safe. "You're safe."

"A Royal... a Royal was here," I mumbled uselessly into his jacket. His warmth began to seep into my bones, melting the ice. I had never been so happy to see anyone in my life.

"It's fine. He's gone now. You're safe." He pulled back slightly to cup my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks. His brows knit together, a look of pained confusion twisting his handsome features. "Dammit, don't cry. You know I don't know what to do when you cry."

I was crying?

The realization hit me only as I felt the cold tracks on my skin. I raised a trembling hand to my face and my fingers came away wet. I hadn’t cried in so long, not since the day of my escape nearly a decade ago. But today, the dam had broken, and the tears wouldn’t stop.

"I'm fine," I lied, frantically wiping at the evidence of my vulnerability. Why did it have to be him? Damien was the one person I never wanted to see me like this.

"Don't try to play tough with me, Allison. I know you're not fine... in more ways than one." His eyes dropped from my face, drifting down my torso to the hilt of the dagger still buried deep in my gut.

"Ah, right. The stabbing," I chuckled, a wet, breathless sound. Adrenaline and fear had numbed the pain so effectively I’d almost forgotten I was stabbed. "It's just a flesh wound. Put some salt on it and I'll be fine."

I repeated the words he'd once said to me after taking a bullet for me.

His brows only tightened, his jaw setting hard. He was in no mood for nostalgia.

"You could've died, Al. You really think now is the time for jokes?"

"I'm sorry," I whispered meekly, my gaze dropping to the dark concrete. It was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. I tended to get on his nerves, but Damien rarely snapped at me. I had no defense against his anger because I knew it came from fear.

"Go easy on her, Damien. You can scold her all you want when she's not actively bleeding out."

A mature, gravelly voice interjected from behind us. My head snapped up.

The Leader.

Why was he here? Well, I suppose a Royal sighting warranted the big guns.

"Oh, shut it, old man. This is all your fault," Damien snapped, pivoting to glare at the older man. "If you hadn't sent me on that wild goose chase to track down some make-believe sirens, I would have been here to protect her."

My heart surged, stuttering a jagged rhythm against my ribs. He would have been here to protect me. The elation drowned out the panic, leaving me lightheaded. Suddenly, all I could focus on was the strength of the arm wrapped around my waist.

He meant it in a brotherly way, my subconscious chided. Damien doesn’t see you like that.

I knew the nagging voice was right, but for a moment, I let myself live in the fantasy.

The greying man chuckled, unfazed by Damien's insubordination. "Or you might have wound up dead," the Leader replied calmly. "The Royal clearly had no intention of engaging, or Allison wouldn't be standing here. But who's to say he wouldn't have attacked if agitated by a hothead like you?"

"Why was he here? What did he want?" I asked, the question cutting through their bickering. It had been plaguing me since those red eyes vanished.

"That is the question," the Leader said darkly. "Perhaps he had business with the twins."

No. It couldn't have been the twins. While dangerous, they were insignificant pawns to a Royal. The way he'd dismissed them, like swatting flies, proved he didn't care for them.

‘I'll be back for you, Hunter.’

The memory of his voice in my head sent a fresh wave of chills down my spine.

It couldn't be me. What business would a Royal have with a hunter? My reputation was growing, but not enough to attract the apex predators.

"Do you remember what he looked like? Any unique details? Was he on the Registry?" the Leader pressed, stepping closer.

"No, he wasn't on the list."

And his features… they were burned into my retinas. He was a masterpiece of cruel beauty. It would be impossible to forget such a face.

The Leader frowned. "Describe him."

"Can't you leave the interrogation until she's not perforated?" Damien interjected, shielding me with his body. "She's losing blood as we speak."

"My apologies. I got ahead of myself," the Leader said, looking genuinely sheepish. "I'll secure the scene. Get her to the medic."

Damien shot one last glare at the old man before turning his full attention back to me. His expression softened instantly, the grey eyes melting into storm clouds.

"Let's get you stitched up. Can you walk?"

I nodded and tried to take a step. My legs turned to water, and I stumbled. Damien sighed, tightening his grip until I was practically glued to his side.

"You're so unbelievably stubborn. You get no medals for acting tough, Al. Asking for help doesn't make you weak."

"Only the weak seek help."

The familiar words left a sour taste in my mouth. They belonged to the man I loathed most in this world, the monster who had made me covet death. Of all the cruel lessons he’d carved into me, that one had cut the deepest.

Why? Because he’d been right.

"Only the strong can acknowledge when they’re weak," Damien countered softly. "Stop trying to shoulder the world on your own." His rough hand came up, grazing my cheek, brushing away a stray tear. "If you can’t lean on anyone else, lean on me. I’m strong enough for both of us."

I gave a wry, pained smile. Deep down, I knew I could never do that. My burden was mine alone. But knowing he was willing to carry it... it eased the invisible weight just enough to breathe.

"I’m stronger than you, dummy."

"Yeah, right," he chuckled, the sound rumbling against my side. "That’s what I want you to think."

Damien began to lead me toward the waiting transport, his arm a solid bar of support. Despite the dagger in my gut, the little girl inside me, the one who had crushed on him for years, didn’t want this moment to end.

"You’ll need a few stitches, but-"

He cut himself off.

A sudden chill raked down my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, electrified.

It was a familiar feeling. Primal. Heavy.

Bloodlust.

My head snapped back, eyes scanning the darkness. Somewhere, a predator lurked. And they were hungry.

"You felt that too, didn't you?" Damien said, his tone instantly shifting from tender to lethal.

I nodded, my gaze piercing the gloom. The area was pitch black, but my enhanced vision cut through the shadows.

And there, in the far distance, watching from the darkness like a ghost...

A pair of glowing red eyes locked onto mine.

My whole body tensed in alarm.

He was still here.