Page 17 of Hunt Me

“I can smell it on you, dog.”

“I am not a dog,” he snarled.

“Excuse me… vampdog. I will take a wild guess. Please, correct me if I’m wrong.”

“Careful, huntress,” he warned, sliding his pink tongue over his elongated fangs.

“You pass as a vampire, but if I had to guess, your father is a full-blooded vampire, and your mother is half vampire and half wolf. You descended from the land of Moonshire and infiltrated King Alesi’s ranks. You must truly hate King Alesi if you side with the quarter wolf in you. You can’t even shift, can you?”

Matilda smirked when he pulled out two daggers.

“Struck a nerve, did I?”

His jaw tightened, but he offered no response. He adjusted his grip on the twin blades and lowered into a fighting stance.

Matilda’s smirk grew.

Her hand drifted toward the weapon at her side as they began circling one another. At first, neither seemed eager to make the first move. Matilda watched his shoulders instead of his blades, waiting for the slightest tell.

His right shoulder twitched, and she drew her weapon just as he lunged. Their weapons collided with a violent ring. The force drove Matilda backward through the snow, but she recovered quickly, twisting away from the second dagger as it sliced through the air where her throat had been. She retaliated before he could reset his footing, forcing him to block a strike aimed squarely at his ribs.

The two parried beneath the moonlight, blades clanging loudly in the dead of night, snow clinging to their eyelashes and melting against their heated skin. They were toe-to-toe, matching each other blow-for-blow. Had spectators been present, they would’ve struggled deciding which being to bet their meager coins on—the martyr huntress or the avenging hybrid double agent.

He’d heard the rumors, but he was still shocked that Matilda could hold her own against him. She was small, making her quicker and lighter on her feet, and he could tell from the concentrated look on her face that she was focused on predicting his next move. He had the terrain to thank for Matilda’s slip-up. A jutting root caught the heel of her boot, sending her stumbling back into the tree.

She calmly inhaled and exhaled, forcing herself not to breathe too heavily lest the tip of her foe’s handcrafted dagger found itself lodged in her windpipe.

“Your sword work is… immaculate,” he praised.

“You know what they say… practice makes perfect,” Matilda whispered as she attempted to catch her breath.

“That is precisely why you are the perfect hunter for the task.”

Matilda opened her mouth, but he raised a single finger to silence her.

“Do not waste your breath refusing me. You will accept the bounty.”

His calmness unsettled her more than shouting ever could.

“The next time you hear from me, King Alesi had better be dead. Should he still draw breath, my men will reduce that tavern to ash, along with every living soul inside it.”

Matilda’s jaw tightened.

“They are already in position,” he said, allowing the threat to settle between them.

“Kill me, if you wish. It will change nothing. My death will not recall the order, and you will spend what remains of your miserable life wondering how many people burned because you mistook bravery for leverage.”

He stepped closer.

“So you will return to that mangy horse of yours. You will find gold in the saddle and instructions concerning your king. You will follow them precisely. You will tell no one about our arrangement. Not the orc. Not your friends. Not even the gods when you kneel to beg their forgiveness.”

His gaze hardened.

“And when I require you again, Matilda, you will hear from me.”

“Anything else?” Matilda challenged.

“Yes… one more thing.”