His Little Hunter

Chapter 5

ALLISON

Those burning crimson irises remained locked on me, unblinking, searing into my soul for what felt like an eternity. Then, in a blink, they vanished into the abyss of the night.

His physical presence was gone, but the bloodlust lingered like a thick, suffocating fog. It coated my skin, heavy and cold. Even when I could no longer sense him, my heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to shatter the bone.

The Leader was right. He definitely hadn’t planned on killing me earlier. The aura he had radiated just now was a different beast entirely, a raw, concentrated promise of violence that made his earlier threat to the twins look like child's play.

For whatever reason, he'd chosen to withdraw. I breathed a silent prayer of gratitude, because there was no reality where Damien and I stood a chance against a monster of that caliber, especially not with my life leaking out of my gut.

“I don’t sense him anymore,” Damien said. His voice held a razor-sharp edge, his grey eyes scanning the darkness where the vampire had stood. He couldn’t see the Royal the way I had, but Damien’s instincts were honed to a lethal point. He’d pinpointed the threat even through the gloom.

"Yeah," I mumbled, the word barely passing my lips. My mind was too crowded with terror to form a coherent sentence.

I wasn’t imagining it. In that brief, electrified moment we’d locked gazes, those red eyes had focused on nothing else but me. Earlier it had been speculation, a paranoid whisper. Now, I was certain. The vampire was after me.

But why? What could I have possibly done to earn the attention of a Royal?

Did he hear of my conquests? Did he want to test his prowess against the so-called 'Mortal Reaper'?

That seemed unlikely. I had plenty of 'fans' in the underworld, but a Royal wouldn't descend from their ivory tower just for sport. They were prideful, calculated creatures.

As if I didn’t have enough on my plate. First, that cursed cult, and now this. I couldn't catch a break.

The cult had worshipped HIM, the male who ruined me. The one whose head I’d claimed. Their attack had been a revenge ploy for the death of their master. Could this Royal be seeking vengeance for HIM too? No... it had been years since I’d sliced his head clean off his body. Besides, Royals weren't known for their camaraderie. They were solitary apex predators who spent more time in fighting than mourning each other. It was the only reason the Hunter's Association survived, our enemies were too busy hating each other to unite against us.

Still, I couldn't rule out a personal vendetta. Maybe a lover of his had fallen at my hands? But I'd slaughtered so many of their kind, the faces all blurred together in a river of red.

Fuck.

“That’s a relief. We won’t have to fight.” Damien's voice sliced through my spiraling thoughts, tethering me back to reality. His eyes searched my face, frantic and tender, before drifting down to my midsection, to the hilt of the blade still protruding from my body. "I don't know anyone else who would still be standing after taking a hit like that."

As the words left his lips, the adrenaline finally abandoned me.

A wave of vertigo crashed over me. My vision swam, the world tilting violently on its axis. Black spots danced in the corners of my eyes, multiplying like ink in water. Sounds that had been sharp and overwhelming seconds ago faded into a blissful, muffled silence.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard a voice screaming my name, raw, panicked, terrified.

Damien.

But he sounded so far away. Darkness wrapped around me like a heavy, warm velvet blanket, and I stopped fighting. I let it pull me under.

***

When I surfaced, I was greeted by the stark white glare of a ceiling and the pungent, sterile sting of antiseptic.

A faint, rhythmic beeping echoed in the background. I tried to move my left hand, only to find it tethered by an IV line. It didn't take a genius to figure out where I was.

The Clinic.

What happened? Why was I here? My memory was a haze. I tried to leverage my heavy body into a sitting position, but a sharp, stabbing fire erupted from my center, forcing a gasp from my lips.

With the pain came the flash of memory. The mission. The twins. The red eyes. Damien. The dagger.

Right. I was stabbed.

Damien must have carried me back.

I lifted my right hand to touch the bandage at my waist, but it wouldn't move. It was anchored.

Confused, I glanced down.

My hand was trapped in a much larger, warmer grip. A male hand. Its owner was asleep, slumped in the uncomfortable visitor's chair, his head resting on the edge of my mattress. His dark hair spilled over his forehead, softening his usually sharp features.

Damien.

A soft gasp left my lips.

The sound was enough to rouse him. His large frame stirred, muscles tensing instinctively. He lifted his head, rubbing at his eyes in a sleepy haze, before they landed on me and instantly sharpened into focus.

"Allison?"

The chair clattered backward as he surged to his feet, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat. His expression shifted from sleep-addled to pure, unadulterated concern. His right hand came up, cupping my cheek with a tenderness that made my breath hitch.

“Are you okay?” He didn't let go of my hand. His face was inches from mine, his grey eyes searching me for any sign of pain. “I was so worried. You suddenly passed out... I thought I was going to lose you.”

My face flamed at the contact. My brain seemed to short-circuit, the thoughts scattering like frightened birds.

He was so close. Too close. I could feel the heat radiating off him, feel his warm breath ghosting over my lips. If I made the mistake of leaning forward just an inch, our mouths would brush.

The mere thought made my heart skip a violent beat.

Get a grip, Allison.

I knew I must be blushing furiously, but I couldn't look away. His scent invaded my senses. It was so safe. It took every ounce of self-restraint not to close my eyes and lean into his touch.

“Damien, y-you’re too close...” I stuttered, my voice betraying me. I pressed my free hand lightly against the solid wall of his chest, creating a sliver of necessary distance.

“Oh my! Are we interrupting something?”