Huntsmen (The Better to Kiss You With Book 2)

by Michelle Osgood

  From above her came the same soft sigh from the marksman as he lined up his shot, then a puff as the dart exited the gun. Kiara dove left. Her claws skidded against the concrete as she swung around. She recognized her mistake immediately. Broken Nose was now between her and Ryn and, with a smirk in Kiara’s direction, he leveled his gun right at Ryn, where she crouched between cars.

  Kiara didn’t let Broken Nose revel in his smugness. The man seemed to have forgotten who—what—he was dealing with. The second he glanced toward Ryn, Kiara attacked. She went for his legs; her powerful jaws closed over his calf and sank in until muscle filled her mouth. He shrieked. The barrel of the gun cracked against Kiara’s muzzle as he tried to bat her away. Pain sparked along her face, but she held on and began to drag him backward. He slammed the gun into her face again before she yanked his feet out from under him and he crashed to the floor. The gun went spinning.

  “Shoot her, shoot her!” he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth.

  Kiara hadn’t forgotten about the man on the catwalk. In the split second he took to pull the trigger, she leapt out of the way, and instead of sinking into her flank the tranq struck Broken Nose in his injured leg. The drug hit his system, and he went limp.

  The taste of his blood was hot and sweet in her throat.

  She barreled up the stairs to the catwalk as the shooter began to reload. She reached him before he had a chance and shoved him off the balcony to land with a crash on the cement below.

  Ryn had scooped up Broken Nose’s gun and stepped over him. She faced the Huntress with the gun held down at her side.

  “We’re going to leave,” she told her calmly. “And you’re not going to follow us.”

  Kiara leapt down from the catwalk and padded to Ryn’s side.

  “This is a mistake.” The Huntress spoke directly to Kiara, as though Ryn was the one who couldn’t respond. “She’s dangerous. She’ll hurt someone, eventually, someone innocent. The lone ones have no control.”

  Kiara flashed her fangs. The only people who were going to get hurt were the ones who were trying to hurt them, and she didn’t see any innocence in that.

  “We’re going to leave,” Ryn repeated. She bent down, keeping her eyes and the gun on the Huntress as she grabbed their two bags. She slung the bigger one over her shoulder and stuffed Kiara’s backpack into the basket of her bike as she picked it up off the ground.

  One hand on the handlebars, and the other still holding the gun steady, she backed away from the woman. Kiara stood her ground, hackles high, until Ryn opened the door of the parkade. With one last withering snarl, Kiara turned and loped out to Ryn.

  Chapter Nineteen |

  The second Kiara joined her, Ryn threw a leg over her bike and started to pedal. Kiara raced easily alongside, grateful that the winter month meant that it was still relatively dark. As a wolf, she was just as tall as Ryn’s bike and several times wider. There wasn’t any mistaking her for a dog, but there was no time for her to shift back. They needed to get away, far away, as fast as they could.

  Ryn sped through the streets, not speaking. Kiara wasn’t familiar enough with Vancouver to know where they were headed, but she trusted Ryn. Despite the violence they’d just fled, Kiara reveled in the joy of running free through the city. The air was chill and damp, and the pavement was cold and wet under her paws. She could hear the lazy rumble of traffic as the city awoke: folks trudging toward buses or unchaining bikes. Ryn turned sharply into a back alley as they entered a more populated neighborhood, and Kiara kept to the shadows. She and Jamie and Cole would go into the woods when they felt the urge to shift, the need to run flat-out and on all fours. The last time Kiara had been reckless enough to run as she was now, with the sun edging toward the horizon and regular people pressing in on all sides, had been with Ryn.

  Ryn finally pulled her bike to a stop in the overhang leading to an underground parkade. Kiara’s ears pricked forward, listening for anyone who might be close enough to stumble across them. Not hearing anyone, she padded to Ryn’s side and gave one quick shake of her coat to clear away the dampness of the early morning before shifting back.

  The instant her pelt vanished, Kiara shivered. The wet pavement was now freezing cold against her bare feet, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Here.” Ryn tossed Kiara her backpack, and Kiara pulled out the spare change of clothes she’d packed. She pulled on a pair of stretch leggings and a long-sleeved shirt.

  Her shoes were still in Nathan’s parkade, and Kiara made a mental note to include flip-flops in her bug-out-bags in future. Now that they were far enough away from the Huntsmen, Kiara’s adrenaline rush faded. Shifting back and forth always took energy, and that combined with the fight and flight—and Kiara’s restless night—meant exhaustion was rapidly settling in.

  “What now?” The question slipped out before Kiara realized she intended to ask it. She wanted to take it back, not wanting Ryn to see how at a loss she was. She wanted Ryn to pull her in and hold her close. She wanted to go back to when everything was normal. Would you really, though? Wouldn’t you do it all over again if you knew you’d get Ryn? Kiara didn’t have an answer.

  Ryn swung her leg over the center bar of her bike and patted the seat behind her. “Hop on. We’ll find a hotel.”

  Kiara only hesitated for a moment before she complied. Ryn kicked off, and Kiara held herself steady as the bike lurched forward.

  The hotel lobby was grimy, and Kiara tried not to think about her bare feet against the cracked linoleum. However, the lack of care meant that no one questioned why she was without shoes or looked twice at the fact that she paid in cash.

  Kiara took the keys the disinterested clerk handed her and joined Ryn at the elevator bank. For once, Ryn’s face was drawn. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped in. Kiara hit the button for the sixth floor, and they rode in silence.

  The room wasn’t much better than the lobby, but at least the floor was covered with a thin, worn carpet. It was probably just as—if not more—filthy as the linoleum, but at least it wasn’t cold.

  Though it had been at least an hour earlier and shouldn’t have carried over with the shift, Kiara could still taste blood in her mouth. The second Ryn locked the door, Kiara ducked into the bathroom.

  She hadn’t thought to grab a toothbrush from Nathan’s, let alone toothpaste, and decided she’d have to visit the convenience store in the lobby before the day was out. For now, she rinsed her mouth with tap water.

  When she came out of the room, Ryn had propped her bike against the door. It wasn’t the most effective barricade, but it would slow someone down.

  Kiara dropped her backpack beside the room’s queen-sized bed. Ryn pulled the curtains across the window and sank into a chair. Kiara ran a hand over her face and settled onto the bed.

  “Now what?” Ryn asked. Her tired eyes met Kiara’s.

  “I don’t know,” Kiara admitted. “I don’t know how they knew where we were.”

  Neither of them spoke after that. Kiara wasn’t sure there was anything more to be said. Her entire body ached; she wanted nothing more than to curl up on the mattress and sleep. But she wasn’t sure how the Huntsmen had found them and wasn’t willing to be caught unawares again. Maybe running had been a mistake. She didn’t know what she was doing and she’d dragged Ryn along with her. She’d destroyed her phone and so left Cole and Jamie no way to contact her. Giving up Ryn had never been an option, but she might have made a mistake in not including her pack in her plans.

  “Stop thinking.” Ryn’s voice cut through Kiara’s storm of thoughts. “I can practically hear you.”

  Kiara gave a defensive shrug. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

  “You don’t have to do anything. Not right now.” Ryn gestured at the bed behind Kiara. “I know you’re tired. Get some sleep.”

  “The Huntsmen—” Kia
ra began.

  “I’ll stay up. I’ll keep watch, or whatever.” Ryn gave a wry grin. “We can take shifts. Very Walking Dead.”

  Kiara eyed the lumpy pillows. At any other time in her life she would have recoiled in disgust, but now they looked impossibly inviting.

  “No one’s going to come for us now, not so soon,” Ryn pointed out. “We’ve got a few hours before we have to figure this out. Take the time. Sleep.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  “I am.” Ryn stretched out on the chair and fished her phone from her pocket. “I’ve got Netflix on here. I’ll be fine.”

  Kiara nodded. She would be able to think better after she had some rest. She crawled under the covers, pulled them up to her chin, and curled to face the wall. Ryn’s measured breathing was soft at her back, and Kiara slowed her own to match. Within minutes, she was asleep.

  When Kiara woke, it took her a minute to remember where she was; the blank wall in front of her provided little in the way of clues. Then she registered the scratchy pillowcase under her cheek, and it all came back. She rolled onto her back and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

  “I thought you were going to sleep all day.” At some point Ryn had joined Kiara on the bed and sat with her back propped against the headboard. The TV played soundlessly; closed captions scrolled across the bottom.

  Having Ryn so close to her scrambled Kiara’s brain. The bed was large enough that they weren’t touching, but Kiara felt the warmth from Ryn’s body. Though Kiara was sure she would regret it later, she gave in to impulse and rolled closer to rest her head in Ryn’s lap.

  Ryn didn’t say anything, but skimmed her hand over Kiara’s hair. Kiara leaned into the touch. Ryn’s fingers carded through Kiara’s hair, brushed across the shell of her ear, and sent shivers down her spine. Kiara wasn’t sure who moved first, but Ryn bent down as Kiara arched up, and their lips met. The kiss was soft, hesitant, nothing like the one on the roof.

  Kiara pushed herself up on her arms and twisted so that Ryn didn’t have to bend so far. Ryn gathered Kiara’s hair in gentle fistfuls and drew her in as her lips parted against Kiara’s. The light touch of Ryn’s tongue against Kiara’s sparked heat, coaxed an ember to a flame. Kiara eased open Ryn’s shirt buttons one by one until she could insert her hand, hold it flat against Ryn’s chest, and feel the steady beat of Ryn’s heart against her palm. Ryn’s breathing hitched when Kiara slid her hand lower, cupped the gently rounded flesh of Ryn’s breast, and drew her thumb delicately across the nipple.

  Ryn’s head dropped back against the headboard, baring her throat, and Kiara dragged her lips over the exposed flesh. Ryn tasted like sweat and warmth and citrus. Kiara nuzzled into the bend of Ryn’s neck as her hands slid Ryn’s shirt open. She wanted as much of Ryn’s bare skin as she could get. Wanted it held so tightly against hers that when they finally parted, Kiara would carry part of Ryn with her.

  Ryn leaned forward so Kiara could push her shirt down her arms, and once it was off Kiara tossed it to the side. Ryn cupped Kiara’s face and brought her down for a kiss; her lips moved slow and sweet against Kiara’s until Kiara whined helplessly. Her body was at once pliant and strung tight, as though without Ryn’s touch she might snap in half, but until that promised touch came she was held in perfect, aching limbo.

  Kiara allowed Ryn to ease her onto the bed, let Ryn pull her shirt off. When they were both topless, Ryn settled over Kiara, and Kiara gasped at the sensation of Ryn’s skin, hot against hers. Her hands came up, wrapped around Ryn’s back, and held her close. Ryn rocked against Kiara and moaned as their legs slotted together and Kiara’s thigh hit just right.

  Kiara felt drugged, drinking in the soft press of Ryn’s skin sliding against her, as the golden, late-afternoon sunlight filtered weakly into the room. For the first time in days, months, years, the walls Kiara held so close and bricked up so tightly began to crumble.

  Ryn brushed her lips down Kiara’s neck and mouthed across her clavicle. The warmth of Ryn’s bare skin was nothing compared to the wet heat of her open mouth, the drag of her tongue, and Kiara’s hips rolled helplessly up into Ryn, to where her thigh rested between Kiara’s legs.

  “Tell me what you want,” Ryn murmured against the curve of Kiara’s breast before her tongue laved Kiara’s hardened nipple. Kiara arched into it, and Ryn closed her mouth around Kiara’s breast. Everything in Kiara’s body tightened.

  “You. I want you, Ryn.”

  Ryn’s breath hitched with Kiara’s admission, and her hands smoothed down Kiara’s sides. Kiara writhed under the touch, then lifted her hips as Ryn tugged her leggings down.

  “How do you want me?” Ryn’s mouth drifted to Kiara’s other breast, sucked until Kiara’s eyes rolled back and she grabbed fistfuls of Ryn’s hair to have something to hold onto.

  “I want to feel all of you. I want you inside me. I want all of you.”

  Ryn pulled back, and Kiara let her hands fall to let Ryn look up at her. “You’re sure?” she asked. Ryn’s pupils were blown wide; the barest hint of her dark brown irises was visible.

  Kiara nodded. Ryn surged in for another kiss, this one wetter, messier than the ones before, but still so achingly soft. They broke for air, and Ryn made her way down Kiara’s body to drag Kiara’s leggings from her legs. She dropped them to the floor behind her and returned to do the same to Kiara’s panties.

  Kiara parted her legs as Ryn slid between them. The rasp of Ryn’s dress pants against the bare skin of her inner thighs sent shudders down her spine. Ryn hooked a hand into the bend of Kiara’s knee, guided her leg back, and bared her entirely. Kiara bit her bottom lip; her cheeks heated as Ryn took her time looking down the length of Kiara’s body.

  “You’re so beautiful like this.” Ryn rubbed her thumb in gentle circles along Kiara’s calf. “You always are.” She flashed Kiara a rakish grin, then nipped at Kiara’s ankle. “But like this, you’re…” Her voice turned quiet, reverent. “So open. Exposed.”

  Kiara shuddered; her eyes closed. Ryn stroked from Kiara’s breastbone to the thatch of curls between her legs, slid lower to part Kiara’s slick folds and pressed one slim finger into her. Kiara’s hands clenched around the sheets, her spine bowed when Ryn added a second finger, and she gave a desperate moan when Ryn leaned down and ran the flat of her tongue over Kiara’s clit.

  Ryn moved her fingers inside Kiara; her lips and tongue echoed the rhythm. The slow build of Kiara’s orgasm sparked along her fingers, her toes, in a pulse that drew toward the center of her until she came, quaking, around the sensation of Ryn inside of her.

  Ryn eased back, moved up Kiara’s body, and delved into Kiara’s mouth with her tongue. Kiara could taste herself, Ryn’s lips slick with her, and she opened as wide as she could to draw Ryn farther in. Now it was Ryn’s turn to whimper against Kiara’s mouth as she rocked her thigh between Kiara’s legs, the aftershocks from Kiara’s orgasm rippling out until she could feel another build and roll over her.

  “So good, you’re so good,” Ryn panted. She smoothed her hands over Kiara’s forehead, cupped her face, and kissed her until they were both breathless.

  Kiara worked a hand down between them, then wrenched away from Ryn’s kiss long enough to confirm Ryn’s preferences hadn’t changed. “No penetration?”

  Ryn nodded, the movements of her hips frantic now. Kiara fought with the button on Ryn’s pants, swore, and then flicked it off—she’d sew it back on if she had to. She shoved her hand down, pressed the heel against Ryn’s clit, and held onto Ryn’s shoulder as Ryn rocked against her.

  Ryn’s breathing stuttered, broke against Kiara’s skin in pants. Ryn’s skin was damp with sweat under Kiara’s other hand, where she held it against the base of Ryn’s spine. Ryn’s muscles flexed under Kiara’s palm; the roll of her hips was sinuous as she worked toward her own orgasm. Ryn dropped her head, rested her forehead against Kiara’s with her eyes screwed
shut, and came with a sharp cry.

  She fell, lax, against Kiara. Her chest heaved as she sucked in air; their hearts thundered against each other. Ryn took less than a moment to recover. She rose from Kiara and crossed the room on slightly unsteady legs until she reached her bag.

  She rooted through it and returned with a small bottle of lube. Anticipation left Kiara’s throat dry. She swallowed as Ryn settled onto the bed beside her. Ryn ran a reassuring hand down Kiara’s flank. “Okay?”

  Kiara nodded. Ryn dropped a kiss onto Kiara’s knee and moved between Kiara’s legs. Kiara had scooted to the edge of the mattress, and Ryn knelt on the floor in front of the bed. Kiara spread her legs wider as Ryn’s hand moved down between them. She was wet from the first two orgasms, and Ryn sunk two fingers into her easily. The third took more coaxing, the push of it sparked bright along Kiara’s spine. Ryn curled her fingers inside Kiara and rubbed against her g-spot. Kiara sucked in an uneven breath and flattened her hands against the bed.

  Ryn’s fingers continued to move, the cold touch of the lube eased between them until it warmed, and, with it, Ryn slowly added a fourth finger. The stretch was more intense now. Kiara’s eyes fell shut; her breathing slowed as she concentrated on drawing air in as Ryn pushed into her.

  Whereas her first orgasm had spread from her extremities in, this built differently. Pleasure radiated from her center in a low pulse that thrummed along her skin and in her blood as Ryn slicked more lube between them and slowly, unrelentingly, pressed more of herself into Kiara. Pain twined with pleasure; the ache of both stole Kiara’s breath. Though she’d had plenty of sex, before and after Ryn, it never compared to this. Never came close to the dizzying intoxication of Ryn’s hand inexorably working into Kiara’s body, and the rush as her body complied.