The Hunt (Of Blood and Magic Book 2)

by Delicious David

  Timou felt the air rush past his vaporized form as they floated across a narrow tunnel that glimmered like the multicolored fractals of a kaleidoscope. He realized that he could float this way for the rest of his life, free of all worldly cares and pressures to serve the High Commission. He could go on like this for the rest of eternity; just being. For a second his mind found amusement, wondering about the brand of magic that powered teleportation. Elena seemed to know many brands of magic. Timou wondered if there was any spell she couldn’t bring to life. She was such a gifted witch.

  Just as Timou began to settle into this version of existence he had come to enjoy, he felt a gust of air suck him out like a suction tube through a vortex, and he materialized in his full hunky form, landing on his feet on a platform of asphalt. Elena appeared a second later, not looking in the least ruffled, her orb back to a stunning purple and wheezing blissfully behind her.

  Bass music thrummed into his ears from his left side, its vibration spreading across his ribcage, only to be replaced instantaneously by another thrum. He glanced in the direction of the sound to find that they were at the other side of a road that housed a bar and inn. Timou couldn't believe his eyes. He turned to face Elena, his eyes asking searching questions. She deciphered his gaze without stress as her lips curling with mischief. Then, without saying a word, she floated across the road and straight toward the bar's entrance. Timou was nonplussed. What had happened to Elena?

  The inside of the bar was bursting with life and booze and music and strobe lights. Elena floated over to the bar and, before Timou reached it, she had somehow dispelled a lounging couple to make space on two empty stools. She was placing an order when Timou reached her side.

  “One margarita and scotch on the rocks, please. And anything the gentleman wants.” His cock screamed again, rising to attention like an overenthusiastic soldier because her voice had sounded so sexy. Just three days ago, he didn’t have even the faintest clue that Elena had a social side. She had always seemed so arrogant and uptight. True, he had found even that version of her highly attractive, but boy did he fancy this one more.

  He ordered a gin and a rum, and they drank silently through narrow paper straws. Elena ordered another glass, and yet another glass until her voice began to drawl. Timou, having had only two shots, was still quite alert and attempted to caution her, but she would have none of it. She needed it, she told him. She needed it.

  Then, after the eighth glass, her cheeks were burning a bright pink and looked puckered all over. They were not the best shade of rosy, but even while wasted Elena still looked stunning. Drawling obviously, she beckoned to the waiter. Timou stiffened, assuming that she would request yet another margarita, but then she said:

  “Could we have one of your rooms?”

  It was as though she was possessed by an alien spirit. Timou watched her drag the key across the counter and then lock her arm in his, leading them up the stairs and toward the boarding facilities. She wasn’t even floating; she was using her legs. It was as though a hot-bodied skank had stolen Elena's face was now seducing him with it. Timou couldn't help but follow her lead, his brain protesting but his dick leading the way.

  They reached room ‘∆’ and Elena fumbled the key into the lock and led them in, her orb whizzing past them to take a sweet spot at the head of the bed. As she slammed the door behind them with her left hand, she grabbed his cock through his pants with her right. Timou gasped, a million sensations colliding in his brain all at once. She gazed into his eyes with a hungry look on her face, her long sleek lashes fluttering provocatively. She inched her face toward him and then attacked his ear with her warm, wet tongue, anointing every inch of it as he groaned.

  “I want to be your bitch tonight,” she whispered into his ears, slowly and seductively, and he felt his cock nearly burst.

  She went straight for his nipples, sucking on each for at least half a minute, eliciting moans of delightful ecstasy. His hand found her boobs and he grabbed them, feeling the top of each burst through his expansive palms. He rubbed his hands around them, pinching her nipples, feeling them harden, and then watching her stop for a moment to catch her breath and moan. She traveled all over his body with her tongue, jumping the river between his navel and his warm, erect cock. Her lips brushed against the top of it and his cock responded, rising to meet her. She kissed the top of his cock and he moaned. He tasted salty. Yum.

  She wet her fingers of her hand, then she folded her right palm around his cock and began to work it in a crazy handjob, her other hand pinching her tits. Then she leaned in and sucked on his balls. First, there was pain, and then his head exploded with pleasure. She sucked on his balls while giving him a handjob and stimulating her tits. Timou, in spite of his exploding head, couldn’t help but wonder how she could multitask so effortlessly.

  “Float us,” Timou grunted and she obliged. They rose above the air and, in that same second, Timou flipped her until her feet scraped the ceiling and her head was at the level of his cock, with his right before her pussy. Her pussy projected the heat of an oven, her vulva burning a bright pink and swimming with juice. He brought his face to her pussy and kissed it tenderly, feeling her shudder. Then he extended his tongue and began to lap her juices, running his tongue across the edges of her pussy lips and making her scream. Never willing to be outdone, she nibbled the head of his cock with just enough teeth to split his senses in half. Then she ran her tongue in circles around his penis cap. Timou felt hotness rise at the root of his cock.

  He sent his tongue far into her pussy until he found her clit. It was hard as a pebble. He rammed his tongue at it, lapping it from all sides as she spasmed like she was about to break. Her pussy dripped juice and he consumed all of it, wanting nothing more than to eat her ass until he was full.

  She choked on his cock as he rammed it into the depths of her throat. Elena had never choked on his cock before, which only served to turn him on the more. He relaxed her knees at both sides of his shoulder and curved her hips until her anus showed, ringed by a cute little groove of golden-brown hair. And he tongued that off too, producing loud moans that definitely woke the neighbors.

  “Have me! Have me!” she exclaimed like crazy, overwhelmed by ecstasy.

  “Take us to the bed and I'll fuck you as you'll never be fucked again.”

  He felt her magic propel them toward the medium-sized bed, her lips still cradling his crotch. In an impulse, her orb rolled off the pillow and out of the way as they landed. She disengaged and positioned herself at the head of the bed, head splayed on a pillow and hips angled up so her ass faced him directly.

  “Take me from behind.” she moaned, her eyes shut, her mouth hanging open. Timou massaged her hips with his left arm as he wet his right palm with his mouth and then wet his cock with his right palm. She didn’t expect when he entered her and she moaned, arching her hips up and throwing it back to meet his thrust. He drove into her like a car racer, accelerating with each second, his cock pounding her to ecstatic stupor. He bent over her, chest cross her back, and grabbed her tits, fondling with her nipples as he plowed into the depths of her ass. She moaned into the pillow, biting it, making it absorb her screams of pleasure. Timou pounded on, until the hotness rise from the root of his cock to his tip, like a current. He shuddered wildly as he came, jerking wildly behind her. Before disengaging to collapse beside her. In a second, she flopped right beside him, chest up, her boobs towering like mountain peaks.

  He leaped to his knees with a fresh purpose. She had to come, too. He wet his middle finger with two licks from his tongue and then drove it into her pussy. She moaned with desire, playing with her tits, wanting more of him in her. He fingered the juice out of her pussy as she moaned in tandem with his fingers. In about five minutes, he was recharged. He brought his face to her pussy and added fresh slime to her juice with his tongue. Then he drove his cock into her pussy, hitting all the right angles. She angled her hips up to meet his thrust, lost to every other care in the world. T
hen she came, body spasming in the throes of a burst of pleasure that weakened her to her knees.

  And then he collapsed beside her, a look of pure contentment buttering his face. His cock throbbed with stinging pain, but it was the good kind of pain; the kind of pain he would love to feel, all day long.

  ∞∞∞

  Chapter 6

  THE CAR

  The road from the fields was narrow and winding, causing the truck they had stopped and asked for a ride from move along cautiously, very nearly crawling, to avoid an unexpected collision, which suited Becca just fine because she got to stare at the vast fields and bask in the peace and calm the richness of the beautiful fields were. She grew more in tune with nature, as she felt the warmth it exuded in the unscented air. She smiled as the curls of her hair broke free, letting loose as the cool breeze ran through her hair as they sped past the fields rolled with tall plantations of corn and squat fields of sprouting rice. There were windmills on most of the plantations, which Luke quizzed her about, and then there was a rubber plantation and a vast olive garden.

  The truck belonged to what seemed to be a music band. In the back of the truck, as the vehicle hit bumps and tiny potholes, she heard the clanging of what sounded like cymbals and drums. The driver was a young man with wiry hair and what was clearly a big heart. Not only had he stopped to give them a lift with a smile, but he also seemed to find the fun in every little thing, no matter how bleak it originally seemed. The band was not only merry but strongly opinionated. They argued about everything, from politics to football to the weather. As they conversed, the young man with the green T-shirt would get really animated as he made his arguments, his hands swiping the air madly as he marshaled his point. Becca found his level of expressiveness quite amusing, but not nearly half as amusing as the blank, confused look on Luke’s face as he listened in on the conversation. It was clear that he couldn’t make out the meaning of a single reference. Becca chuckled and nudged him, and then she draped her arm around his neck.

  The green fields disappeared, replaced by senescent trees with trunks as wide as tricycles. The trees towered so high that some of them seemed to touch the sky. Interestingly enough, as the green fields vanished the road became sturdier and smoother. Becca wondered if there was a correlation between farms and underdeveloped roads.

  The men in the truck suddenly burst into song; a beautiful, harmonious sound that drew tears to Becca's eyes. It was the song of a story. They sang of a man who loved a tree, so much that he left his family to live beside it. That he watered it each day, though the tree didn’t need it, and showered it with much affection. But then, he had become so possessive of the tree. He would chase people away from it and gorge on its fruit until his belly ached, just so no one else would have access to its fruit. Then, one night, while he slept, the tree, suffocated by his blatant possessiveness, had withdrawn its roots from the depths of the earth and took off into a faraway forest, never to be seen by the man again. The song warned that love thrived on freedom, and that if you truly loved someone you would allow them the space to breathe in their own time. Becca found it instructive, Luke found it incredible. Becca was so overwhelmed and impressed by their performance that she complimented them, for both their substance and their sound. They smiled in return and thanked her, the driver's smile was the widest of them all.

  “The tree in the song was an almond tree.” the band member with dark hair, mascara beneath his eyelids, and a silver tooth had said, his eyes glinting.

  Soon, the trees thinned out, welcoming the buildings that announced that they had finally reached civilization. The streets of the city were lined with fancy, tall buildings with large garages and tiny gardens. They burst out into Romania's main street, landing straight in the middle of tight traffic. Right before them, Becca could count nearly half a dozen traffic lights in the scope of her vision. They blinked red, yellow, green, and red again in quick succession, managing a traffic jam that would very quickly become unmanageable if just one of them failed. In minutes, they reached the end of the long stretch of tarmac and skidded to a stop at the base of a bridge that arched into Romania's industrial district. This was their stop. Becca and Luke thanked the guys, Becca mostly, and alighted from the track, their boots crunching the asphalt. The merry band waved them goodbye and zoomed off over the arc of the bridge.

  The hair on Becca's skin stood on edge. She could feel magic pulsating around her, taking up a presence so tangible she could nearly taste it in her lungs. An entrance to the world of magic was near here. She had walked through it several times.

  She felt Luke's heart rate increase as they walked toward the abandoned boutique. The signs above the boutique were peeling, and it carried the insignia of the coalition—a wand and a claw with a sword lying horizontally beneath them both, surrounded by a circle of fire. This insignia was the same sign that could be found tattooed on the skin of every High Commission lieutenant, and which also graced the entrance to the High Commission's building. The sign could only be seen by beings of magic.

  They stepped into the shop, careful not to step on the shards of broken glass sprayed all over the tiled floor. Hairless mannequins stood in silent corners, nude, watching through empty cavities where plastic eyes once stood. They reached the other end of the shop and met two doors. Luke opened the door with the plastic handle and stepped through the silvery-white cloud. A non-magic individual would've met an impenetrable wall. Becca stepped through the cloud, too, feeling her essence dissolve and coalesce on a stone path in the south of Transylvania, a few feet behind Luke. Her eyes widened as she took in the forms for four High Commission soldiers—two witches, a vampire hunter, and a werewolf—who stood before them, poised, with arms at the ready. They had walked into an ambush.

  Becca felt rage rise through her gut like liquid bile. Since when did the High Commission begin policing the entrances to Transylvania? Wasn’t that forbidden? And how dare they stoop this low in their quest the capture Luke? She scoffed and spat. She had honestly expected better.

  “It's Lukai!” one of the witches exclaimed, a delighted look enveloping her face. She looked no more than twenty. Becca wondered how she had so quickly recognized a being who had been lost to the world for three hundred years before resurfacing just last week.

  “Surrender in the name of the High Commission, and nobody will get hurt.” The werewolf grunted, his yellow teeth stark in the dim light.

  “We assure you a fair hearing.” the vampire hunter added, his face glinting with mischief. Becca found him especially ridiculous, seeing as the only crime they seemed to have committed was walking through the magical doorway. Her fists clenched and her eyes narrowed as she looked at him.

  “I didn’t come here for any of you,” Luke fired at them, his voice assuming that dark, heavy timbre with which he had entranced her when they had first met, “I know how badly you want to fight me, but the battle isn’t scheduled for today. Make the wise choice and let us pass, and maybe you’ll live after.”

  The lieutenants seemed initially stunned by his words. And then, just as Becca had anticipated, they threw their heads back in unison and laughed, their shoulders heaving and chests vibrating. Becca felt Luke's temper flared, and continue to rise steadily.

  “Keep them busy while I send word to the High Commission for reinforcements.” the other witch who hadn’t spoken previously said to her team mates, as she backed away from them and produced what looked like a beacon. She spoke with the authority of a team leader.

  The other three inched closer, boxing them in. Becca's hands flew to her thighs and produced her twin enchanted daggers, but before any of them could move, she felt Luke become a dark mist of violent air, swoosh past the three lieutenants toward the fourth and swoosh back just as quickly. Before she could blink, Becca watched the witch's hand got stiff and her beacon fell to the stony ground, shattering on impact. She narrowed her eyes, noticing a ring of redness beneath the witch's chin. And then, in a turn of events that left Be
cca's mouth hanging open for minutes afterward, the witch's head rolled clean off her neck, plopping to the ground. Her body followed immediately, crashing to the earth knee-first, blood spurting from the exposed stump. The face of her severed head looked frozen in shock.

  It was then Becca noticed the red liquid coating the sharper side of the dagger in Luke's right hand. He made a show of raising it to his lips and licking off all the blood clean from the edge of the cold metal. Her team mates jumped back, their cocky confidence vanishing instantly. They glanced at her headless body, and back at him, their faces calculating what had happened, widening with the wonder of a move that surpassed all they had ever imagined.

  Without warning, the vampire hunter dropped his enchanted sword and ran down the path, his heels touching the back of his head. He was the smart one.

  The other two team mates looked clearly deflated, but they stood their ground. Their loyalty for the ministry apparently took precedence over their fear of him.

  Luke looked at them, sadly. “I warned you,” he said simply, his voice nearly sad. The air before the witch thrummed with magic as she put a spell in motion, but before the hailstones she had conjured could even manifest, her head was bouncing off the floor. The werewolf leaped at him, claws first, eyes blazing with the fire of murderous intent, but Luke met him midair and left him with an enchanted dagger through the heart. He spasmed on the floor, struggling to get back on his feet, but Luke had stabbed him in the werewolf's weakest spot: the heart of hearts. Becca watched him struggle, with her heart in her mouth, until his eyes glazed over. The corpses of the three young lieutenants lay on the floor, splayed at awkward angles; a gory sight.