Hunter Mourned (Wild Hunt Book 3)

by Nancy Corrigan

  “You built me something?” She hurried to catch up to him.

  “I built something with you in mind. I didn’t build it for you, specifically. Like I said, it’s for anyone who gets the urge to play.”

  “Play?” She grabbed his arm, stopping him a second time. “What do you mean, play?”

  An exasperated sound escaped him. “You’re as bad as Rhys, you know that?”

  “I’m not. You just piqued my curiosity. I want to know.”

  He pointed past her. “Then look.”

  She glanced over her shoulder in the direction he indicated. Two ropes were wrapped around a thick tree branch. At the bottom of the coils was a flat piece of wood. “A swing?”

  “Yeah.” He took her hand and tugged her forward. “It took me close to an hour to find a strong enough branch to use. You’re skinny, but I figured if any of your brothers secretly enjoy playing like you do, it’d be best to use a tree that can hold their weight.”

  Gaze on his face, she walked with him, letting him lead her. “Why would you think my brothers would want to…to play? Huntsmen don’t relax that way. I was only swinging that night to pass the time.”

  “Maybe not, but just in case, it’s here. I’m going to get a gym set up in the basement too. That creepy room where Harley used to be locked away is perfect for it. It’s soundproofed, and there’s a bathroom and kitchen.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  Eyes narrowed, he studied her. “You sound shocked.”

  “I just didn’t expect you to do something so…” Nice? No, that would not go over well.

  “Considerate?”

  “Well…no.” And could she sound any more ungrateful? She blew out a rough breath. “I mean, yes. You just caught me off guard. This is a surprise. A pleasant surprise.”

  “You’ll find I’m full of surprises.”

  They stopped a few feet away from the swing. She met his gaze. “I’m learning that.”

  “Playing is soothing. So is exercising. Both are good ways to deal with stress and rage. The Huntsmen need those outlets.” He brushed a lock of her hair from her shoulder, then dropped his hand. “You need an escape. You’re too intense.”

  “Am I? I don’t feel agitated.”

  He dragged the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, wetting it and tempting her to yank his head to hers and suck on it, taking his flavor into her. Instead, she locked her knees, wanting him to reach for her.

  “You’re not stressed now, but I’ve seen you on edge. You use that cocky attitude as a shield and a weapon to keep people away so they don’t see the darkness in you, but it’s there, simmering right below the surface, ready to take over.”

  “That’s the beast I can become, nothing more.”

  “I’ve seen your other form. I’m not talking about the Hunt’s influence on you. That’s different.”

  “How so?”

  “The Hunt fuels your need to seek retribution for the wronged. It’s not any different from what your siblings feel. What I’m talking about is unique to you.”

  The distance between them—a single foot—was too much. She stepped closer until a mere inch separated them, then tipped her head slightly to look into his eyes. “You’ve lost me. I don’t get where you’re going with this conversation. I’m the daughter of Arawn, Lord of the Underworld. That’s not a pretty place. It’s horrible, actually. Nothing you’ve seen on earth can compare. Nothing, Trevor. Not even the Unseelie Court. Hell is where sinners go to pay for their crimes, to experience pain that’s ten times…a hundred times worse than what they’ve caused. I’ve witnessed their punishment. I—”

  He dragged his knuckles over her jaw, stopping her rambling. “Try out the swing, Rowan. I’ll push you.”

  She wanted to finish telling him how she had delivered punishments to the damned. How she’d hurt those sinners, even while they’d begged for mercy. How she’d enjoyed it. She couldn’t bring herself to admit the last.

  She leaned into his touch. “Only if you promise to tell me what you mean.”

  “I promise.” He moved his hand to the back of her neck and slid his fingers into her hair so he cradled her head in his big palm. With her held steady, he brushed his parted lips over hers. “Now, get on the swing before I lose control. You tempt me, Rowan. More than any woman ever has, but I’m trying to do the right thing here. Let me tell you, it’s hard. I am not a saint.”

  “Neither am I.”

  He caught her lower lip between his teeth and tugged on it, tearing a gasp from her and jerking her body. The nip didn’t hurt. The tug connected to her womb, whipping desire through her.

  On a groan, he released her lip. With a slow lick, he caressed her tender flesh. “I know. You’re dangerous. There’s a darkness about you that calls to me.”

  Right. He had said she carried a darkness that was different from what the Hunt caused within her. She wanted to understand what he meant. Being close to him distracted her, however. The same thing had happened in the alley. With the scent of leather and man drugging her, nothing else had mattered beyond him. His admission confirmed he felt the same for her. The knowledge would come in handy. At the moment, she wanted to understand his words, though.

  “Let me go, then. It’s hard to swing when you’re holding me.” And looking at her as if he wanted to devour her.

  He opened his mouth but closed it without speaking. He stepped back. The loss of him chilled her, but she sat on the wooden board anyway. He’d have to touch her again to push her.

  He gathered her hair and twisted it so it fell in a loose ponytail down her back. The moment she soared into the air, the strands would fan out around her. The reason why he’d done so became clear a moment later. He dropped his hands to her shoulders and massaged. Tension she hadn’t known had tightened her muscles eased with each caress.

  “Relax, Rowan. I didn’t mean to imply there’s anything wrong with you.”

  The second he spoke, she realized she had been upset by his words. She tipped her head back, needing to see if the expression on his face matched the sincerity in his voice.

  Lust darkened his brown eyes and slackened his jaw. It was a look many men had worn for her. Seeing it triggered an equal desire within her, but that wasn’t all. Her pulse raced, and her breath caught. It was excitement, need…

  Hope.

  He exhaled roughly and bent toward her. His lips rubbed against hers. Then he was kissing her. Not aggressively. Not passionately. Tenderness fueled the strokes of his tongue along hers. The gentle circular caress of his thumb over the racing vein in her neck added to the moment.

  She relaxed, resting against his stomach and enjoying Trevor, this part of him she’d just discovered the previous day in the alley. No doubt it had been there all along, but he’d kept it hidden behind the arrogance he wore like a shield and wielded as if it were a weapon. Why, she didn’t know. She was simply glad she’d unleashed it.

  Finally, he eased back. “Ready?”

  She nodded. No other words would form.

  He hooked an arm around her waist and took a few steps back. She gripped the rope, and he pressed his free hand to her lower back. With a firm push, he sent her sky-high. She swung her legs out on the upward arc, tucking them as she swung back. He met her with another shove that gave her more momentum. Another couple more pushes and she swung by herself, rocking back and forth.

  A smile spread over her face as she soared. She loved the simulation of flying, of being free. The swing offered her a different experience from what her horse was capable of doing. There, in the night sky with the power of the Hunt humming in her veins, she was a Hunter. Never did she ride for the joy of it. Even those times she did climb on her mare’s back without a specific purpose, she kept an eye out for evil. Here, on this handmade swing Trevor had made for her, she was a woman. There was no purpose, no duty, and no goal other than to feel the wind on her skin.

  She didn’t know how long she swung, but finally Trevor caught the rop
e, ending the carefree moment. The swing jerked with the abrupt stop. He steadied her with an arm around her waist. She collided with his chest. An “oomph” escaped. His mouth was on hers a heartbeat later, stifling the sound and stealing her breath.

  The hunger she’d seen on his face a few minutes ago spread from him to her. She needed more than his lips. She craved his passion, his strength.

  Twisting in his embrace, she hooked her hand around the back of his neck and tugged him closer. His groan whipped through her. He tightened his hold on her waist and kissed her harder.

  Their teeth banged, and each pleasured sound he made excited her more. Warmth pooled low. Her nipples hardened. Need built. She squirmed, trying to break free. The desire to strip him and explore his naked body with her hands and tongue grew into a fevered compulsion. For the wonderful gifts he’d given her—the swing and the carefree moment—he deserved her worship.

  He eased back, breaking their wild kiss, and focused on her, staring deeply into her eyes. “That look on your face, Rowan. It does crazy shit to me. Makes me want to forget everything and throw you over my shoulder. Take you back to my bed. Freaking worship you.”

  She wanted that, for him to love her. Instead of asking him to make it a reality, she focused on uncovering more of the hidden Trevor. He fascinated her. His personality was part of that, but she wanted to understand why he wore that expression for her. He’d said himself she was dark. Dangerous. Yet he still wanted her. Why? Uncovering that reason would help her accept what he was to her—the reincarnation of Kai or another chance. With Trevor’s intense gaze on her, she didn’t care which one he ended up being. He made her feel alive. She refused to lose that.

  “What look?”

  “The lighthearted one you wore while swinging, and that smile…” With his hand firmly over hers so they both held the rope, he moved to her front and stepped between her legs before dropping his hands to her thighs. He inched his fingers higher, pushing her skirt up with them. “That smile freaking branded me or something the first time I saw it. Seeing it again has shattered my convictions. I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with you now.”

  He was speaking in riddles. Either that or she was missing something essential. “You’re confusing me.”

  “I know.” He wove his fingers into her hair and pulled her close. Their noses touched, breaths mixed. “I’m confusing myself. You do this to me, make me a mess. I don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with these emotions you stir within me. This isn’t the right time for us to get involved.”

  He was wrong about that, but she didn’t want to tell him why. Not yet. The pressure of figuring out her challenge would make what was happening between them much more difficult.

  “But you want to get involved with me? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Yes, I want you. Over me, under me”—with his gaze still on her face, he skimmed his fingertips over her panty-covered cleft—“tied to my bed.”

  The teasing words she’d spoken to Trevor sounded like a promise coming from him. Her breath hitched. “Trevor, I—”

  He slipped his fingers under her underwear, much the same way he had the previous night in the alley. He didn’t stroke her cleft or push his fingers inside her, though. He hooked the material and tugged. She lifted her bottom, complying with his silent demand. He dragged her panties off, letting them drop carelessly to the ground.

  “But that’s going to have to wait a little while longer. I’ve got a plan to see through.”

  “What kind of plan?”

  He licked her lips, the bottom, then the top. “Don’t worry. It involves you. Me. Us, naked and sweaty.”

  “Yeah? Don’t you think you should run this plan by me first?”

  “Don’t need to. I know what you desire, but if you want me to waste my breath, I will. I’d rather get drunk on you. Bury my face in your folds and make you come apart around my tongue. And with the number of brothers you have wandering around here, privacy is hard to come by. We have it right now. Don’t know how long that’ll last.”

  “Aren’t you worried about what they’ll think? Brothers can be protective.”

  “I’m an only child. Can’t speak on that, but I’m not concerned. Zeph already saw us together. I just don’t want to be disturbed when I’m eating you out.”

  “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you, and”—her breath escaped in a shaky exhale—“you didn’t explain what you meant about me being dark.” She wasn’t sure why she was delaying him. She wanted his mouth on her too.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow after you get back from hunting.” He skimmed his parted lips down the column of her throat to her upper chest. “I’ll make us something to eat, and we can sit out on the patio.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Good.” He dragged the tip of his tongue between the swell of her breasts, stopping at the neckline of her top. “If you can, come home early enough that we can watch the sunrise.” He stroked his flattened tongue over her nipple, wetting the fabric of her top and hardening the tip. “Just you and me, okay?”

  “Yes, I’ll try, but I can’t promise. It all depends.” On how long it’d take her to talk to Arawn and hunt down Minerva.

  “As long as it doesn’t involve rapists or any of the other pieces of shit you’ve been hunting as a woman, then I don’t mind waiting for you. I know you’ll come back to me.”

  His words slammed into her with a commitment she hadn’t expected to come so soon. With one sentence, he acknowledged their connection and staked his claim on her.

  “I won’t hunt humans tonight, but that’s not something I can stop doing permanently for you.”

  He nibbled on the erect nipple, sending sparks skipping through her, then kissed his way to the space between her legs. With his thumbs, he gently exposed her opening and brushed his lips over her sex, a chaste kiss. He eased back and met her gaze. “I know. That’s the darkness inside you. You want to make the damned regret their bad choices now, not wait until they die. You want them afraid. Groveling like babies knowing they’re going to Hell, hoping they can make up for their sins, so they won’t commit more.”

  She stared at Trevor, shocked by his insight. That was exactly the reason she roamed the human streets. If she could stop one sinner from hurting another person—saving someone from experiencing the grief she’d endured—then she considered her nightly treks among the depraved a success.

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  With a hand on each knee, he spread her legs farther apart. “Yes, but only if I’m close by so I can rescue you if things get out of hand.”

  “No. You’re not going with me until after you become a rider. What if—”

  The swipe of his tongue over her cleft stopped her words. “Quiet, Rowan. I’m busy. You can argue with me later.”

  “There is no argument. I won’t expose you to danger while—”

  Her statement was cut off when his tongue pierced her center. She grasped his head and nearly toppled backward.

  Trevor steadied her with a hand on her bottom. “Grab the ropes and hold on, baby. Otherwise, you’ll fall on your ass, and the only time I want you on the ground in front of me is when you’re on your knees with my dick in your mouth.”

  She released his head and gripped the ropes. The moment she curled her fingers around the rough cords, he licked her, swiping his tongue over her lower lips. She sucked in air. The way he touched her, as if he had the right to her body, left her weakened. Each drag of his tongue over her sex strengthened her, however. He knew how to work her, giving her the most pleasure possible. Every nibble and lick whipped her higher and heightened her anticipation.

  No doubt the confidence he showed came from experience. He probably had a long list of very satisfied lovers. Should that make her jealous or angry? Most women would be, even if they didn’t want to admit it. She wasn’t like many females, though. In her eyes, those women had prepped Trevor. For her.

  And she’d
get to keep him for an eternity.

  “This is mine, Rowan.” He gave her center another lick before raising his gaze to hers. His chin glistened with her arousal and lust gave his brown eyes a drowsy quality. “If we do this, get together, I won’t share you. If that’s not what you want, you’d better tell me. I’m reaching that point where I can’t let you go.”

  “Lick me, Trevor. Prove to me you’re mine. That fate has brought you back to me. Given us a second chance.”

  A look of anger flashed across his face. He glared at her. Then he was kissing her lower lips as deeply as he’d taken her mouth a few moments ago. She didn’t get the chance to process his mood change. She soared. Trevor took her up so fast, the orgasm didn’t build. It crashed over her. Destroyed her. She trembled, and his name escaped on a strangled gasp.

  The waves finally slowed. Her body slumped. He tugged her off the swing, pulling her against his chest. His mouth found hers, and her arousal flavored the kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and clung to him, using him to anchor her shaky body.

  He broke the kiss. “Say it again.”

  “Say what again.”

  He clenched his teeth so hard, the cracking of his jaw resounded in her ears. “My name. Say my goddamn name so you know who loved you.”

  “Trevor.”

  “Good. Now remember that when you think about what we did. It was Trevor who took you to heaven, not your dead mate and certainly not some loser you’ve used to pass the time. Got it?”

  She wanted to share her theory with him. The harsh expression on his face stopped her. A slew of dark emotions showed in his eyes. Anger, jealousy, frustration—it was all there for her to see. He didn’t hide any of them. His expectation was clear. A demand.

  “Yes, Trevor. I got it.”

  He pressed his lips to her forehead. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. When he did, his words came out as a breath of sound. “This wasn’t supposed to happen so soon, not until after I became a rider.”

  “Why does the timing matter?”