Mating the Huntress

by Talia Hibbert

  “Oh, piss off. Slap you and break my bloody wrist, more like.”

  “I can’t help it if my bones are particularly sturdy.”

  “Why are they so sturdy, again?”

  He grinned at her innocent tone. “A kiss, love.”

  “Fine.” Before he could grasp what was happening, she darted up on her toes and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. Every fibre in his body seemed to shatter, to explode on impact, as if the slight, chaste brush of skin against skin were the most erotic thing he’d ever felt.

  And then she was gone, pressing herself back against the wall as if she could sink into it, her lashes lowered. “There. Now answer the question.”

  It took him a moment to find the wherewithal to speak, but he tried to sound unaffected. Luke had a feeling that with Chastity, the slightest slip of control might be taken as permission to ride roughshod.

  Not that he’d mind her taking advantage of him, once in a while.

  “That wasn’t a real kiss,” he said. “You missed my mouth.”

  “It’s dark,” she scowled. “Except for those bloody eyes of yours.”

  “Thanks to these eyes,” he said patiently, “I can see you just fine. So, we’ll do it again, and I’ll kiss you.”

  “Nope. My kiss counts. You never said it had to be on the mouth.”

  He smiled slowly, glad that the shadows hid his satisfaction. Ah, she had no idea what she’d just walked into. “Alright. Fair enough.” He enjoyed the expression on her face for a moment, adorably pleased, as if she’d just won a prize. “Like all healthy, cursed beasts beholden to the moon, I am physically stronger, faster and sturdier than the average human. Higher bone density, more powerful muscles, magic, blah blah blah. And I believe I have a stronger immune system.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “I’ve never been sick,” he said. “Ever. And that was another question, Chastity. You owe me a kiss.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re a pervert.”

  “You know,” he said reasonably, “you could always reject my bargain. Or at least, you could if you weren’t determined to prove yourself useful to a family who has, for some reason, rejected your skills as a huntress. But since you are determined to do so, and since you also secretly want to kiss me, why don’t you be a good girl and let me take what I’m owed?”

  She gaped at him like a particularly pissed-off fish. Then, finally, she spluttered, “Don’t psychoanalyse me, you prick.”

  “How am I supposed to support you in overcoming your insecurities—”

  “Call me insecure again and I will scoop out your eyeballs with a silver spoon.”

  “—if I don’t put effort into understanding you? And Chas, we both know you’re never going to attack me again. I’d be open to play fighting, though. You’re very sexy when you’re trying to remove my vital organs.”

  “What on earth are you blathering on about?” she demanded. But she didn’t sound as brashly confident as usual, or as disgusted and dismissive. She sounded, beneath the iron of her tone… unsure.

  He didn’t like that, because he knew she must be uncomfortable. Chastity appreciated certainty, which meant that he appreciated certainty for her. That was what drove him to say, his words painfully blunt, “I want to mate you.”

  There was a heavy pause. Then, finally, she said, “I wish I didn’t know what you meant by that, but…”

  “Context clues?” he guessed helpfully.

  “Context clues,” she agreed.

  “How do you feel about it?”

  “Horrified, obviously. I don’t believe you should be slaughtered—”

  “So magnanimous,” he murmured.

  “—but you’re still a Were and I’m still… almost a huntress. I don’t think I need to tell you that, whatever mating me entails, it’s never going to happen. Unless you force me.”

  He ground his teeth together and breathed through his nose for a moment, her scent ironically comforting as he fought down nausea and fury in equal measure. Then, with his temper and his roiling stomach under control, he gritted out in his best imitation of calm, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

  “Um… Are you okay?”

  “Do you care?” he snarled, the ragged thread of his control finally snapping.

  “Yes,” she clipped out, her voice equally harsh. And then they both faltered, blinking at that unexpected response. There was a heavy pause as she swallowed, the sound loud in the silence. Distantly, he recognised the rumble of passing cars on the nearby street, the open-and-shut of a door somewhere close, a faint conversation across the block. But the evidence of a world beyond the secret space between them wasn’t enough to drag Luke out of this moment, this precious breath of time when her eyes met his without a shield of aggression, when her pretty lips parted not to attack him, but to drag down air.

  When she was just as affected as he was, and unable to hide it.

  His heart pounding, his beast growling hungrily for more, he leaned closer. “Chastity.”

  “Mm?” she hummed, the sound unsteady.

  “May I have my kiss, now?”

  She took a deep breath, then gave a jerky nod.

  “Say it,” he murmured.

  Her voice was whisper-fine. “Yes.”

  Luke paused for a moment, drinking down the heady aroma of her arousal. Once he was truly intoxicated by it, and by the scent beneath that was pure her and utterly divine, he moved. He bent slowly, oh so slowly, to her lips, until there was nothing but a gasp between them. Until, if he closed his eyes and concentrated hard enough, he might just feel the ghost of her mouth brushing his, though no real contact had been made.

  A memory of last night returned; of the way she’d been, with her kiss hot and hard and her hands everywhere. He released a sigh of sheer satisfaction, even though he was far from satisfied, far from sated. His cock throbbed painfully in his jeans, every muscle in his body was taut and trembling, and his heart pounded out her name insistently.

  Only when he couldn’t bear it any longer did he bring his lips gently, so gently, to her cheekbone. And when he finally touched her there, she sighed too. Hers was one of longing, so rich and thick he could taste it. He drowned in it as he dragged his mouth down, down, down, gently over her jaw, over her throat, to the fluttering pulse that was as vital as Chastity herself. And once he was there, he kissed harder, almost sucking at her throat but not quite.

  She tipped her head back, arching into him, and the movement almost tore him apart. This was how it should be. He revelled in her whimpers of pleasure, and fought back a howl of triumph when her hands grasped at his shoulders, and knew white-hot, impossible bliss.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have slid a questing hand down her body, over her ribs, her waist, the curve of her hip. But when he did, she moaned his name. His mate, finally, moaned his goddamn name. So, really, he couldn’t be blamed for losing his head, for unbuttoning her jeans so roughly that he might have ripped the denim a little bit. He hesitated, everything in him frozen on the precipice of pure heaven, until she wrapped a leg around him—opened for him—and pushed him over the edge.

  It was pure instinct that drove him to thrust his hand past her waistband and under her knickers, cupping her bare pussy. For a moment all he could do was touch her and force himself to breathe, dragging down oxygen while razor-sharp lust tore through him. She was so soft and hot against his palm, her plump folds slightly parted for him, her wetness teasing the tip of his middle finger. Her sex was all lush and swollen, but that delicious slickness was a tiny, liquid secret.

  Then, carefully, he pushed his finger inside her, every part of him alert to her reactions. It felt like sinking into molten desire, her slippery channel dragging him deeper while she panted quietly. “Fuck,” he muttered against her throat. “God, Chas, say you want me. Say it.”

  She didn’t, of course. But she did release a sweet, needy little sound that was almost as good. When she rocked into him, he rea
lised the heel of his hand was firm against her clit.

  The fact that she was chasing her pleasure made him smile, even in the middle of the most all-consuming lust he’d ever felt. Thank fuck she knew what she was doing, at least, and what she wanted. He followed her lead, angling his hand so that she’d have a little more pressure, and she moaned and rolled her hips.

  When his finger stroked the trembling softness inside her at the same time, she choked out, “Don’t stop. Please. Oh my God, please don’t stop.”

  “I won’t. I can’t.” As if he could ever pull himself away from this. From her. His tongue lapped at the skin over her racing pulse as gave her what she needed. And, bit by bit, this iron-hard woman melted for him. When he felt her body tensing around him, he looked up just in time to watch her shatter. She was beautiful as she came, her brows drawn together, her lips parted as she gasped for breath. The sight of her was so fucking perfect, it actually shook him. For a moment, he was lost.

  Then her arousal flooded against his palm, the sensation dragging him back to the real world. He spread the wetness over her folds, learning the feel of her, rubbing her swollen clit curiously.

  Her eyes flying open, she grabbed his wrist and breathed, “Too much.”

  Never enough. But he let her be, even though all he could think about was pulling out his cock and shoving into her heat while his fangs thrust into her flesh. About claiming her and marking her and giving her his soul.

  Luke thanked the moon that he’d spent his youth struggling against his own temper. The steely restraint it had resulted in was serving him so very well.

  Eventually, her breaths slowed, and the sated, languid quality of her body against his gave way to self-conscious stiffness. He decided to let go before she pushed him away. When he retreated, doing up her jeans again—he was nothing if not a gentleman—her hands actually clung to his shoulders for a moment.

  Possessive joy sang through his blood at the tiny sign of indecision—but then she let go, her eyes shut and her brow furrowed. He watched as she raised a shaking hand to her throat, as her fingers traced the path his mouth had taken. Then, finally, she opened her eyes. Her voice was low and throaty and grave when she said, “That was not a kiss.”

  “It wasn’t?” He ran a hand through his hair, told himself it was part of the innocent act—but in reality he just needed something to do with his hands that didn’t involve putting them all over her. Or licking them clean. If he tasted her right now, his cock might actually explode.

  “You know it wasn’t,” she said. “It was…” She cleared her throat, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn she was embarrassed. But then she said, her voice sharp, “It was on my neck, for one thing.”

  “Well, like you said, we never specified that it had to be on the mouth.”

  He shouldn’t have been so smugly satisfied at her look of consternation, but he really couldn’t help himself. Of course, she slapped the satisfaction right out of him with her next words.

  “Whatever it is you want from me, I can’t give it to you.” She sounded so cold, so hollow, and so damn certain. A second ago she’d been his. She had—she fucking had. But now she was miles away.

  “Of course you can,” he said immediately, his voice firm. “All I want is you.”

  Her gaze met his, indecision raging in the earthy depths. If she’d been born like him, she wouldn’t fight this. She’d know instinctively that they were right together, that this was a rare reward in a cursed life.

  But she wasn’t like him. Her life wasn’t cursed at all. “I need your sunshine,” he admitted, his voice soft. “You don’t need my darkness. I know that. But I’ll give it to you anyway. I’ll give you everything I have.”

  She dragged her teeth over her lower lip, a frown creasing her brow. And then she said, so low a human might not have heard, “The dark is just as lovely as the light.”

  For a moment, a fine, diamond thread of feeling shimmered between them. For a moment, everything Luke wanted seemed within reach.

  Then the moment passed, and Chas stiffened, seemed to shrink away from him. “This isn’t right,” she choked out, the words directed at the ground rather than him. “You’re a monster.”

  “So?”

  She looked up, gaping at him as if he were the most unreasonable person in the world. Then she spluttered, “Luke, you eat people.”

  He snorted. “I resent that accusation, considering how hard I try not to eat people.”

  “Are you telling me you’ve never eaten anyone?” she demanded.

  “I’m telling you I’ve never eaten anyone who wasn’t asking for it.”

  Her response was a strangled sort of shriek. He much preferred the soft little moans—but really, who was he kidding? He loved every sound she made.

  “Relax,” he sighed, brushing off her wide-eyed alarm. “I’m a Werewolf. It’s not like it’s cannibalism.”

  After a few soundless, and rather entertaining, flaps of her jaw, she let out a strangled noise that was wonderfully close to a snarl. Her frown was fierce, her lips pursed in clear disapproval, and yet he couldn’t forget what had hovered between them. Couldn’t forget the taste of her and the feel of her under his hands.

  God, she was so sweet. Ferocious and sarcastic and beautifully stubborn, and he could only pray that one day she’d be as fascinated by him as he was by her.

  “Forget about my wild youth,” he said, and took a moment to enjoy her squeak of frustration. “You asked another question, Chas. I want another kiss.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “Not like that.”

  “You didn’t like it?” His voice was light, but nervous tension had his hands curling into fists against the wall behind her, his claws piercing his skin. The pain was a welcome distraction from the aching swell of his cock.

  “I…” Chastity pressed her lips together, hesitated, and she shocked the shit out of him. “Obviously, I did. It would be cowardly to pretend that you don’t… do something to me.”

  The words dragged a smile onto his face, the animal inside him howling in triumph. “I do something to you? And what, exactly would that be?”

  She glared. “You know what. For some reason, we appear to be attracted to each other.”

  He put a hand to her face, cradled the precious curves and strong bones the way his instincts commanded. And she didn’t pull away. “Attraction,” he murmured, “is a very pale description of the thing I feel for you.”

  She bit her lip. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t understand this, and I don’t understand you, so I don’t want to do it anymore.”

  He smiled at the defiance in her tone, the low warning that said, and you can’t make me. As if he ever would. “Alright, love. No more kisses. Not until you ask me nicely, anyway.” He enjoyed her sarcastic little snort, wrapped himself up in it like a warm blanket. “Let’s go home, okay? And I’ll answer all your questions, Chastity. Now and forever. I’m yours.” His thumb grazed the lush swell of her lower lip. He felt her shiver and allowed himself a grin.

  “Trying to convince me that you’re not a monster?” she asked darkly.

  “No,” he murmured. “I would never lie to you, my love. But I am trying to convince you that a monster is just what you need.”

  5

  Rabid

  Luke wasn’t sure how it happened, but during the walk home, he found himself led towards a shop. A shop that sold food. When he had a perfectly good forest full of rabbits in his backyard. It was an outrage.

  “You claimed you wanted cupcakes.” They stood in front of a Sainsbury’s with paper bats strung up in the windows, arguing like an old mated couple. “Didn’t you mean it?” Chastity demanded.

  “Yes,” he sighed, “I meant it. I just didn’t think you’d want to go shopping.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Where do you think food comes from? The sky?”

  “Well, I usually—”

  “Never mind,” she said quickly. “You weren’t just humouring
me, were you, when you asked? I mean, because you know I like to bake?”

  “Would I do such a thing?”

  “Maybe. You are evil,” she muttered. But he didn’t miss the hint of a question in her voice, the way her brow arched on that last word. Evil.

  “I might be,” he allowed, “but so’s the Prime Minister.”

  She pursed her lips, dropping all pretence now. “I meant that you hurt people.”

  “Again, the Prime—”

  “Luke! Be serious! Because eventually one of my many siblings is going to notice that you’re a Werewolf, and when they do, I need a solid argument as to why they shouldn’t slaughter you.”

  He feigned exasperation, even as his heart swelled. She’d admitted her attraction; she’d hinted at feeling more; and now, his bloodthirsty little murderess was openly reluctant to end his existence. Progress!

  “Who do I hurt?” he asked patiently.

  She looked around as if searching for a line of victims. “I don’t know. Didn’t you mention eating someone, before?”

  A trio of teenagers, dressed up as colourful characters he didn’t recognise—and who certainly didn’t seem scary—stared over in alarm. Luke bared his teeth at them and they jerked into movement, hurrying away.

  “No-one who didn’t need to be eaten,” he said calmly, slinging an arm over Chastity’s shoulders. “Let’s go and buy… cupcake… stuff.”

  She stiffened, refusing to move—and he certainly wasn’t going to drag her. “Who,” she gritted out, “did you eat?”

  He sighed. “A few rapists. It was a long time ago. We all make mistakes, etcetera, etcetera. Okay?”

  “Why did you have to eat them?” she demanded, though she didn’t exactly look horrified. And she wasn’t pushing him away, either.

  “I didn’t eat them so much as enthusiastically kill them with my mouth. Subtle distinction. Can we talk about this later?”

  To his everlasting shock, she muttered, “Fine.” She didn’t slide her arm around his waist, the way he wanted her to—but she did lean into him, almost imperceptibly. Then, with an eye roll that some might even call fond, she said, “I must have lost my marbles.”