Page 139 of Hunt Me

Briefly, the wind stopped, and Luka’s heartbeat was becoming impossible to ignore. She staggered slightly, and her hand shot to her abdomen as if she could hold the hunger inside.

She followed the blood trail as Luka backed away towards the woods.

The blood was rich—the most delectable scent, second to her child. It was warm and irresistible, and her fangs slid down instinctively.

“You feel it,” he said, voice drifting on the wind. Matilda’s breath went ragged as she glared at him. “I can help you.”

“I will not take anything from you.”

He snorted. “You will.”

Her vision blurred, and the courtyard seemed to tilt beneath her feet as the newborn thirst burned through every vein in her body. She collapsed on her hands and knees.

“Your body is newly risen, and the hunger will only worsen.”

The sound that escaped her throat was half growl, half gasp.

“Leave,” she rasped, fingers dragging towards the bloodied stone.

“You would rather starve?” Luka challenged.

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation.

A faint smile touched his mouth. “So stubborn.”

He clucked his tongue when she licked her fingers, and her eyes rolled in the back of her head. Her tongue lolled out, and she lapped the blood like a kitten drinking from a milk bowl.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Luka called out from the tree line. She paused, and her eyes flashed.

“That was a cursed day,” she answered.

“Was it?” he said teasingly. “Because I recall you enjoying yourself writhing under my boot.”

Matilda’s eyes closed at the memory—his venom coursing through her veins, him planting his boot between her parted thighs, and her hips undulating beneath him. The moment was both gratifying and demoralizing.

“I recall stabbing you in the eye with an arrow.”

Luka clicked his tongue. “Yes… that was rather… unfortunate.”

He lifted his hand to the torn edge of his wing, and when he drew his fingers back, blood coated them, dripping down his wrist to the snow below.

Matilda’s eyes locked onto it instantly. Her breath hitched, and her hunger roared. She was tempted by his offer.

“You will feed tonight,” he announced.

“Not willingly,” she growled.

“Of course not.” He took a step back, then another. He moved further away, leaving faint drops of blood in his wake. “You never were one for easy victories. I will feed you, my Queen. But you must take it.”

Matilda slowly rose, her body trembling with thirst. “You expect me to beg after what you did to me?”

“I expect you to hunt.”

Her breath stilled and something more powerful than hunger took over.

Lust.

“I want to see if the huntress still exists.”