Hunter's Need

by Shiloh Walker

  She was a fool, though. An idealistic fool, and that didn’t set very well. Somewhere, deep inside, she’d expected something . . . or at least hoped.

  Duke had just made it painfully clear that she wasn’t to be trusted, though. He couldn’t have made it clearer than if he’d dragged her back to Excelsior and put her under lock and key.

  “What did you expect?”

  SHE emerged from the bathroom an ice princess.

  Duke was familiar with the ice princess. She’d made her presence known shortly after arriving at Excelsior five years earlier and she was the woman most of the people at the school knew. Cool, distant, unaffected by damn near everything around her.

  He fucking hated that ice princess routine. He hadn’t realized just how much he hated it until now.

  He sat at the breakfast bar, her laptop open in front of him, but the news articles he’d pulled up couldn’t hold his attention. After she’d disappeared into the bathroom, he’d almost gone in after her, and now he wished he would have.

  She’d used that time to rebuild the walls between them, and while he understood, mostly, he’d be damned if he let her pull back like that. He’d spent the past five years living with those walls in between them, and he’d been content with it. It had been easier.

  He wasn’t interested in easy anymore. Not if it kept him from her.

  She was hurt—he understood that, too. Once he could manage to speak without snarling or grunting like a fucking caveman, he’d apologize. He had to get the anger under control first. It was clouding his head, interfering with his thoughts. If he had tried to cool down earlier, taken a few minutes to think things through while he sat on his ass and waited for her to come out of the trance, he could have avoided hurting her—a fact he was seriously kicking himself over.

  It didn’t make sense that Ana would call for somebody to come and help, and then interfere. No logic to it. One thing Ana had in spades was logic.

  So the natural conclusion, now that he’d thought it through, was that Ana hadn’t done anything. Something else had kept him from sensing what had happened last night, but he didn’t like the implications there, either.

  As she walked past, she glanced at her open laptop and then at him. He smiled, but he knew it looked every bit as fake as it felt. “I’m trying to see what information I can find out about the man who killed that girl.”

  She lifted a brow. “Then I’d suggest you start trying to find who killed her, and I don’t think you’ll find the answers on who did it anywhere on my laptop.”

  Unspoken were the words, Get out.

  Want me gone? Tough luck, sweetheart. I ain’t going anywhere. But instead of telling her that, he just leaned back on the barstool and said, “I don’t need to go digging for those answers. After he killed her, he killed himself. I’m looking up stuff about him.”

  Ana sneered. Curled her lip at him and sneered. It was so fucking out of character, that for a minute, all he could do was sit there and stare—and think about grabbing her, hauling her into his lap and kissing that look off her soft, pretty mouth.

  Instead, he laid his hands on his thighs, opened, closed, flexed. The itching didn’t fade, and neither did the need to touch her. Hell, all it did was get worse. The longer he looked at her, the more he needed to touch her. All the blood in his head drained south until his damned dick was as hard as a pike.

  Her words, though, served as an effective bucket of cold water. “I don’t care what the paper said, what reports say, what the police will say. He didn’t kill that girl.” She edged past him into the kitchen, keeping that careful, cautious distance between them, and Duke saw red.

  Coming up off the barstool, he stalked after her. She went to open a cabinet and he slammed a hand on it, shutting it. She stiffened, her breath hitching in her throat as she shot a look at him over her shoulder.

  “Do you mind?” she said coolly.

  “Explain.”

  She turned around in his arms, staring at him as though he’d lost his mind. “Explain what? I’m thirsty. I’d like a drink of water. You’re in my way. Do you mind?” As she spoke, she arched away, trying to increase the distance between them.

  Screw getting his head on straight. He banded an arm around her waist and hauled her up against him.

  “Stop pulling away from me.”

  Ana squirmed, shoved against his chest. For about fifteen seconds. Then she went stiff and stared straight ahead. “Let me go, Duke.”

  “Not happening.” He caught her face in his hands, cradled it and gently, but inexorably, forced her to look at him. “I’m sorry. Okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you and I’m sorry. I didn’t have any reason—”

  She tensed. “Bullshit. You have plenty of reasons not to trust me and I understand them all perfectly well. Perfectly well. You reacted just the way any other Hunter would have and I’d be a fool to expect otherwise.”

  “I’m not just any Hunter,” he said softly. Yeah, any other Hunter would probably instinctively doubt her.

  She just stared at him.

  He could still feel her hurt. Actually feel it, like a knife piercing his heart. It hurt . . . her pain hurt him, infuriated him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, dipping his head to brush his lips across her cheek. “I had no reason, Ana. I was acting on instinct and anger. I’m fucking pissed right now, frustrated as hell and I don’t handle it well. That doesn’t give me a reason to take it out on you, and that’s exactly what I did. I’m sorry.”

  “Fine. You’re sorry.” The words were hollow, empty.

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “Yes, it will. You have no reason to trust me. You have plenty of reasons to doubt me. It will happen again. You may not be just any Hunter, Duke, but you are a Hunter. You’re going to react in the way you were trained. About all things.”

  “You’re wrong,” he said, staring at her.

  “Am I?” She sighed and closed her eyes. “Duke, let me go.”

  “No.” He gathered her closer, threaded his free hand through her damp hair and brought her head against his chest. He kissed her shoulder, stroked his hands up and down her back, tried to ease the cold knot of pain he could feel inside her. Tried to ease his own pain. Tried to warm them both.

  But warmth didn’t come easily.

  “I’m not letting go, Ana,” he whispered. He couldn’t.

  CHAPTER 9

  SHE came awake, shaking and shuddering and with cold, pressed up against the furnace-like heat of Duke’s body. She wore a pair of pajamas, a tank top and long lounge pants. He’d slid in nude behind her and when she tried to push him away, he’d simply ignored her, pulling her up against him and stroking her back until she fell asleep.

  He was still holding her, holding her tight and by all logical reasoning, she shouldn’t be cold. Between her pajamas, the blankets and Duke, there was no way she should be cold. His body temperature was higher than a mortal’s—it was like sleeping with a living, breathing electric blanket, so there was no reason to be cold.

  But she was.

  “Ana?” he whispered, his voice sleepy.

  Her teeth chattered too much to respond.

  Something slick and icy moved through her stomach as he shifted in the bed behind and braced his weight up on his elbow.

  Something was watching them. She could feel it. Feel it, pushing in on her, pressing against her shields. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt in her life and it terrified her.

  “What’s wrong, princess?” he asked drowsily, dropping a kiss on her shoulder.

  “Shhh . . . ” She licked her lips.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked again, and this time, his voice was more alert. She felt him tense. Without thinking, she reached out, grabbed his arm when he would have slid out of the bed.

  “There’s somebody watching us.”

  Duke went still. In the dim light of the room, she saw him frown, then scan the room. It was still early, just a little past six, but already sunlight was strea
ming in around and under the blinds, enough that she could see the room clearly.

  There was nobody in there—but she could feel somebody watching.

  “There’s nobody in the apartment, sweetheart. I’d know,” he said softly. “Nobody could get in here without me hearing something.”

  Ana shook her head. “Somebody is in . . . oh. Oh, shit.”

  She’d known fear before. Had known terror that kept her from sleeping well for nights on end.

  But terror didn’t quite touch what she felt as a pair of eyes shimmered into view just inches from her face. Eyes . . . followed by a face, the mouth open in a silent scream.

  “You were supposed to help him!”

  The words echoed around them.

  Behind them, Duke hissed out a breath and moved, grabbing Ana off the bed and rolling backward into a smooth feline movement. In the span of a heartbeat, he had them on the other side of the room.

  “You . . . you see her?” Ana asked hesitantly.

  Duke nodded. “I see her.”

  “You were supposed to help!” This time, the voice was louder. Plaintive. Screeching inside Ana’s head and scraping against her nerve endings like nails down a chalkboard.

  Something pressed in on her shields, hard, harder than before and Ana gasped, instinctively recoiling and slamming extra shields into place. The sensation of being pushed intensified and Ana groaned, pressed her hands to her temples.

  “Stop it,” she whispered. Her brain felt like it was being compressed, squeezed by a giant fist. “Stop it!”

  “Why didn’t you help him?”

  “Help who?” Duke demanded.

  “Paul,” Ana rasped out, trying to think past the pain in her head. Damn it, she hadn’t thought ghosts could actually hurt people. But this one was doing just that. “She wants to know why we didn’t help Paul.”

  Abruptly, the pressure on her head eased. A low, keening wail filled the room. It made her hair stand on end, brought tears to her eyes. It was the sound of pain, she realized. The sound of pain, a deep, heart-wrenching anguish that Ana couldn’t even begin to fathom. “Why didn’t you help him?”

  Shaking her head, Ana whispered thickly, “I don’t know how. I . . . I’m sorry.”

  “I told him you would help us . . .”

  Then there was a sigh.

  Then silence.

  Ana closed her eyes and took a deep breath, tried to find the words. She would help. She’d find a way. Somehow—

  But when she opened her eyes, the room was empty. Save for her and Duke.

  They were alone again.

  She sucked in a deep breath and sagged. If Duke hadn’t been holding on to her, she would have hit the floor. “Shit,” he muttered, still staring at the spot where the ghost had been. “You ever had a run-in with a ghost before?”

  “No.” She rubbed a hand over her chest.

  “Me, neither. I don’t want to do it again.” He rubbed his chin against her shoulder and cuddled her closer.

  She really should pull away. She was still mad at him—well, not mad at him. Disappointed, yes. Hurt, yes. But she was mad at her herself and determined not to get suckered into hoping for anything beyond sex with him. Wouldn’t happen. Best thing to do would be pull away.

  But she couldn’t. Just then, she was desperate for his warmth. She was still so damned cold, even though the temperature in the room was slowly rising. So she leaned against him, let his strength and warmth surround her, even as she pretended that he needed the comfort of her body even half as much as she needed his.

  “You got any idea who she was?”

  Ana nodded. “Her name was Marie.”

  “What did she want?”

  “Something we can’t do now,” she said, her voice hollow, her chest aching. “She wanted me to help Paul and I didn’t.”

  “Paul.” Behind her, his body tensed, but then slowly relaxed. He blew out a breath and asked, “Paul, as in the guy who kil—”

  “He didn’t kill her,” Ana said, her voice flat. She tugged against his hold. Screw being cold.

  Duke didn’t let go. “How can you be so sure?” he asked, dipping his head to nuzzle her neck.

  Ana hunched her shoulder up, trying to edge away. “Stop it—and I just am. He didn’t kill that girl. He’s not a killer.”

  “Then what is he?”

  Somebody I failed.

  Tears burned her eyes as she thought of the sad, sweet smile he’d give her when she pushed some money, or a sandwich into his hands. The grief she’d seen in his eyes so often. I’m sorry, Paul. But she didn’t say that out loud. “A victim,” she said.

  Duke shifted behind her, bringing his hands up to cup her hips when she would have pulled away. “Okay.”

  Glancing at him over her shoulder, she said, “Just like that? Okay?”

  “What else do you expect me to say?”

  Ana didn’t know how to answer that. She didn’t expect him to believe her, but she didn’t see him pretending to go along with her, either. She frowned and once more, tugged against his hold and this time, he let her go. Wrapping her arms around her midsection, she paced away from him, circling around the bed and cutting a wide berth around the spot where she’d seen Marie’s soul hovering. She ended up by her dresser and since she was there, and still freezing her ass off, she opened up one of the drawers and tugged out a fleece hoodie. She pulled it on and then glanced up.

  A startled yelp escaped her as she saw Duke standing right behind her. “Damn it, don’t do that,” she snapped.

  “Do what?”

  “Sneak up on me like that.”

  A grin tugged at his lips. “Sorry, darlin’. I can try to walk a little louder.”

  Ana scowled. “I’ll just put a damn bell on you.”

  He leaned in, bracing his arms on her dresser, caging her in. “I’m not much for bells.” He dipped his head and nipped at her lower lip. “But if you want to buy me one on a collar, I might wear it. For you.”

  For you. A fist wrapped around her heart, squeezing, even as her belly went cold. For you. Like she was somebody special to him, like he’d make a change for her. Like he’d do something just to make her happy . . . because she mattered.

  She wasn’t going to let herself get deluded into thinking or hoping for anything like that, though. She’d let herself indulge in that kind of daydream for a couple of days and having those illusions smashed was painful. She wasn’t doing it again.

  “I’ll try to find one in a neutral color . . . your next woman can use it when we’re done.”

  “Next woman . . . now, Ana, I said I’d wear one for you. Not one for any other female,” he teased.

  She frowned at his reflection in the mirror. Instead of even trying to figure out how to respond to that, she said, “Weren’t we talking about something important?”

  “What makes you think this isn’t important?” But the levity in his voice was forced and it wasn’t long before his smile faded. He shoved away from the dresser and started to pace. “I can’t think around you. You do bad things to my head.”

  Ana wrapped her arms around herself. Defensively, she said, “I already told you, I’m not blocking.”

  “I know that, baby.” He stopped in mid-prowl and turned to face her, a self-deprecating grin on his face. His lids drooped low over his eyes and he added, “Wrong head.”

  Involuntarily, her eyes dropped. It was still dim in the bedroom, but not that dim. He was hard, and as she stared at him, his cock jerked.

  He laughed. “You look surprised, Ana. I’ve never been able to think all that clearly around you, don’t you know that by now?”

  Out of self-defense, she turned around, staring at the wall in front of her. Plain, boring, white . . . safe. “No, I hadn’t realized that.”

  “Then you’re in the minority.”

  She heard fabric rustling. She suspected he was getting dressed, but until she heard the rasp of a zipper, she didn’t chance turning back around. He shot her a
wide grin and then went to the bed, settled down with his back against the headboard. “So what do you think you were supposed to do, Ana? You’re not a precog. No way of knowing what was coming. Why did that . . . ” His voice trailed off and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t believe I’m talking about a ghost. Why did that ghost think you could help?”

  Ana shrugged. “Why is it so hard to think about ghosts? Plenty of people would be hard-pressed to believe in big, shapeshifting cats or psychics. Ghosts don’t seem that much a stretch.”

  “So you weren’t the slightest bit weirded out?” He slid her a look.

  “I didn’t say that.” She huffed out a breath and leaned back against the dresser.

  Duke patted the bed next him. “Why don’t you come over here?”

  “Because I don’t want to.”

  “You’re still mad at me.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I’m not mad at you.”

  “You’re mad at something,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his naked chest and pinning her with an unblinking stare. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be standing over there freezing when there’s a nice, warm bed right here.”

  “I’m being practical.”

  A faint grin curled his lips. “Practical . . . as in you think we’ll get more accomplished if you’re not lying on the bed with me.”

  No, practical as in I think it’s best I not get any more tangled up in you. She didn’t say that, though. Instead, she hedged. “It’s logical reasoning.”

  She was holding something back, Duke decided, studying her face. She wasn’t lying. But there was something not quite right, either. He wanted to press, but now wasn’t the time. “Perfectly logical,” he finally agreed. “Okay. You stay there.”

  He slid down in the bed farther and rested a hand behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He rested the other hand on his belly, drumming his fingers restlessly. “Help me think this through, Ana. Why would this ghost think you could help Paul?”