Page 23 of Hunted

I hear the quickening rush of her blood. See the tiny twitch of her fingers. Yet her eyes continue to bore into mine, and I’m not certain if it’s recklessness or bravado.

‘Why?’

‘What concern is it of yours?’ My tone is deceptively mild.

She shrugs, and I follow the line of her shoulder with curious absorption. My gaze lingers on the pulse alternating between racing and slowing, as if she is exerting substantial effort to maintain calm.

Fascinating.

In my vast experience, people either fear me or, when I will it so, sink into foolish calm.

I would call this singular interest a compulsion if I didn’t know the true meaning of the word.

But I do.

And this is not that.

‘You want my services bad enough to have hounded my agency for a couple of weeks. Which means you know I’m the best. Which also means you know I’m not a low-tier hunter who blindly follows instructions. So with respect, I won’t hunt down a woman who might be safer wherever she’s hiding. Not if you mean her harm.’

‘She is mine,’ I state calmly. ‘My… intended. And she has been missing long enough to threaten… a few things I wish not to be threatened.’ I straighten, letting the weight of that truth settle into the room. ‘And that is all the information you need.’

‘Not quite. How do I know you won’t harm her?’ she persists.

I smell fury in her curious, troubling scent. ‘You don’t. You will find her,’ I say. ‘And you will bring her to me.’

Her eyes narrow. ‘And if she doesn’t want to be found?’

‘That, too, is not your concern.’

‘And if she doesn’t want whatever it is you’re offering?’

I allow myself a thin smile. ‘That will be addressed when the time comes. Tell me, are you always this overly concerned for the quarry you hunt?’

‘Only when things don’t quite add up. And you, Mr Don All-Powerful, using me to hunt down some woman when you have battalions of minions both of the human and non-human kind, seems… I don’t know… iffy.’

Silence stretches, thick with things unsaid.

I watch her weigh the risks, the reward, the lie she will give me if she decides to refuse again. I sense in Eira Cross a streak of unfortunate and probably misguided morality, despite her questionable profession.

I decide not to allow it.

‘I’ll pay you five million dollars now to take the job,’ I say evenly. ‘Another five million when you find Lyra Hannigan and bring her to me.’

5

EIRA

It’s holding.

The old crone’s potion is holding.

Thank fuck.

Relief hits first, fast and sharp, loosening a knot beneath my ribs I hadn’t fully admitted was there, because I don’t feel peeled open the way I did the last time I was in Valentin Moretti’s presence. I don’t feel my blood singing some ancient, treacherous song only he knows how to hear.

My scent is muted, wrapped in whatever vile magic Selphine forced down my throat, and I cling to that as I stand twenty feet from the most dangerous vampire in New York and fight to keep my heart rate even.

Slow the pulse. Smooth the face.