Page 91 of Hunted

‘You’re insulted on behalf of a human you’ve never even met and don’t even know beyond the pages of a file?’

I felt it burn in my own blood when Malachi touched her, when the Port Authority fool looked at her, when the thought of her being claimed by anyone stirred something dark and unthinkable in me. That is not the way a man thinks when he’s focused on his fated mate.

I did not like the sensation then.

I like it less now, mirrored in her.

It suggests a symmetry I do not wish to acknowledge.

Eira stops pacing, plants herself, then throws the next words fast, as if speed might trip me into revealing weakness. ‘Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. I’m… I’m outraged on her behalf. If you were my—’ She stops, pursing her lips.

Electricity lights through my blood as I tilt my head. ‘If I were what, Eira? If I were your fated mate? What would you do?’

Her magnificent, biteable chin lifts. ‘I would gut you with my Widow’s Fang. For starters.’ Then she shrugs. ‘But I’m not a vampire and, unlike you, I don’t believe in that fated mate bullshit, no offence. So it’s a moot point.’

I want to tell her I did not believe in it either.

Not until Morrighan, Netheris fires devour her charred remains, cursed us.

‘So how do you know?’ she demands. ‘How do you actually know? Is it a vision? A scent? A psychic bolt of lightning? Because I’m telling you right now, if this is based on vibes⁠—’

‘It is not based on vibes,’ I interrupt, because even I have limits.

Her eyes flash with triumph at making me cut in.

Of course they do.

‘And if she stays gone?’ she continues. ‘If I come up short and can’t find her, what’s the ultimate plan? Keep dragging women into your penthouse and scanning their minds until one of them breaks? That’s your grand romantic destiny? How noble.’

‘Watch yourself, little hunter. Or I will teach you another lesson on insolence.’

She stills, and I catch a glint of contrition before defiance reclaims her.

‘It is not romance,’ I continue, patience thinning because she is circling too close to truths I do not wish spoken aloud. ‘It is essential.’

‘What, like a business deal essential?’

I remain silent.

‘And what about her?’ Eira fires back. ‘Does she get a say? Or is it just your essential problem and she’s the solution you believe you’re entitled to?’

The question lands like a blade because it is not only about Lyra.

It is about Eira.

The kiss. Consent. The fact that even immobilised, she fought her way back to movement because she cannot tolerate helplessness.

The fact that I found that resistance extraordinary.

I take one measured step closer. She holds her ground because she cannot help herself.

‘We are done here, I think,’ I say softly.

Her lips part, ready to argue.

I do not permit it. ‘You were granted one question for one kiss and you were entitled to one only. You have greatly surpassed that, little hunter. And without the due grace and appreciation for my patience.’

Her eyes widen at the reminder of the wager.