Page 156 of Hunt Me

Luka flinched from the certainty and self-deprecation in her tone.

“Matilda.”

“There was blood everywhere.”

He remained silent as Denalia slept peacefully between the furs. Matilda reached down and brushed a curl away from their daughter’s forehead.

“I was afraid, but more than that, I was angry. I knew I had to keep him there long enough for you to get away with her.” Her fingertip lingered against Denalia’s cheek. “My mind was racing as I faced him. I wondered if you two were safe, if there would be another ambush, but I was thinking about something else, too.”

Luka nodded. He understood because he’d been there before when the urge took over. “The blood,” he said.

She looked at him shamefully.

“I could smell all of it. There were bodies everywhere, Luka. Humans and wolves—some dead, some dying, some still crying out for help.”

She swallowed hard and pressed her hand to her throat. “And all I could think about was how thirsty I was.”

“That is natural.”

“Do not excuse it.” Matilda glanced back at Denalia. “It wasn’t only the bodies. There was a woman nearby. She was alive and bleeding from her arm.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I could hear her heat. I could hear the blood moving through it. And I wanted her.”

Luka remained perfectly still.

“Then I smelled one of the horses. I wanted it too. There were pigs loose from one of the pens and…” A humorless laugh escaped her. “God, Luka. I would have bitten a fucking pig.”

He might have smiled under any other circumstances, but not now. Not when she was falling apart.

“And then I heard a child crying.” Matilda’s eyes filled with tears. “He was injured, and I wanted his blood, too. A fucking child, Luka, no different from our own.” Her face crumpled painfully. “Man, woman, child, horse, pig—it made no difference. Everything around me became something I could feed from.”

Luka moved closer as she stared at her hands that were more capable than she’d ever known.

“I spent my entire life hunting creatures for doing exactly that. I called your kind beasts, monsters, parasites, and soulless things incapable of seeing humans as anything other than food. And now? I understand.”

“No,” he said quietly. “Now you understand the hunger.”

She scoffed. “What difference does that make?”

“Every difference. You smelled blood and wanted it.”

“I wanted an infant’s blood.”

“And did you take it?” Matilda stared at Luka as if he had lost his mind. “Answer me.”

“No.”

“The woman? The horse? The pigs? Anyone lying wounded around you?”

“No,” she whispered. “But I wanted to.”

“Yes.”

His blunt agreement seemed to surprise her, but Luka wouldn’t lie to comfort her.

“You wanted to feed because every instinct in your body demanded it. You are newly turned. You were frightened, exhausted, surrounded by blood, and had gone too long without feeding. Your hunger did not ask whether the blood belonged to an innocent or an enemy. Hunger lives freely without morality, Tilda. But you proved that you do not.”

“That does not erase what I thought.”

“No. Nor should it. You should remember it. You believed monsters were creatures who experienced monstrous desires. You were wrong.”