Hunter's Rise

by Shiloh Walker

“I have to finish this job,” she said quietly. How could she make him understand that? She finished jobs. Especially jobs like this. It wasn’t just a matter of pride. It was… it was part of her. She had to finish the job. And even aside from the fact that she didn’t leave jobs unfinished, she couldn’t walk away from the memories of this one.

  She closed her eyes, and she saw Toby, and she thought of another boy. One from so long ago— another who’d died because of a monster. She had to find Pulaski. Had to stop him. If he didn’t die, if she didn’t know he would stop, the nightmares wouldn’t stop.

  In a low voice, he said, “If we find him alive, once I get what I need from him, he’s yours.”

  Sylvia averted her face— she couldn’t keep looking at him. For some reason, she wanted to trust him, even though that was the absolute last thing she should do. She didn’t trust anybody. Ever. It was a rule of hers. She’d stopped trusting people after the last one had screwed her over and landed her in this living nightmare that was life as a vampire.

  A weak vampire— one who burned with even two seconds of sunlight—

  “Why should I trust you? How can I trust you to hold up your end of the bargain?”

  “Because I said I would,” he said, his voice flat. “I’m giving you my word.”

  “And just why should that mean jack to me?” She planted her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “I realize half of the freaks in this world think you guys are saints and the other half is terrified, but I don’t fall into either camp. I trust somebody after they’ve earned it. Why should I trust you?”

  He reached out and snagged the front of her shirt, moving so fast she barely had time to evade his grasp. Judging by the glint in his blue eyes, she decided it would be better to not bother just then. Besides, being pressed against that body wasn’t a hardship. “How about we put it this way, sweetheart… I’m telling you that you can have him, and you can either just take a chance on that… or I’ll haul you to the Enclave and just lock you in one of the isolation chambers. You’ll get out when I decide you can come out.”

  Even though the thought of being locked up was enough to send fear ripping through her, she’d be damned if she showed that. Sylvia rose up on her toes and put her face in his. Baring her fangs at him, she snarled, “Just try it.”

  “Oh, you know I can do it.” His voice was low, menacing and soft, but his hand oddly gentle as he stroked it back through her hair. “You’ll bloody me. I’ll hate having to do it. But you know I can. So why push it?”

  * * *

  S

  OMETHING dark and painful moved through her eyes before she hid it. Toronto hated himself for putting it there. He knew what had done it, too. Up until he’d mentioned the isolation chambers, she’d been fine. Pissed off, but fine. Not afraid. Oh, there had been some fear, but nothing like that screaming, silent hell.

  She clamped it down, got it under control— it barely even had time to change her scent. He wondered at that. A fear that wild, that strong… it usually showed, and lingered. Unless a person had learned in painful, painful ways not to let it show.

  I won’t do that again, he promised her silently. Reaching up, he toyed with a lock of her hair, wondering how to undo the damage he’d just caused. “We can do this working together. I don’t want him— I just need that information. And I imagine you’re a clever woman. You can probably figure out a way to kill him, leave the body so he’s found… without it being tracked back to you. That way the families of his victims get that final closure.”

  Her lashes flickered.

  He tugged lightly on her hair. “Don’t act like you don’t feel pity for them.” He continued to toy with her hair, not looking into her eyes, giving her a few minutes to steady, to think. To decide. “If you didn’t feel pity, you wouldn’t take jobs like this for free.”

  That did it.

  She smacked at his hand, jerking away. “You don’t know jackshit about the jobs I do.”

  “Don’t I?” Smiling, he rubbed his knuckles along his jaw and leaned back against the wall near the open window. “Prove it. Tell me you’re taking the money they offered you for this job. It’s not like they can’t afford it.”

  They could… Toby Clemons’s folks were loaded. Seriously loaded.

  Sylvia just glared at him.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Sooty black lashes fell to shield her eyes. “I don’t think I like you very much,” she said, sighing and reaching up, gathering her hair in her hand.

  Distracted, he watched as she twisted it around and around, piling it in a loose knot on the crown of her head. “Yeah, you do.” She seemed to like him, though. A lot. Which was actually something of a surprise. A lot of people wouldn’t mind at all if he disappeared from the face of the earth.

  “Arrogant bastard,” she muttered, a faint, reluctant smile curling her lips. She held the mass of hair with one hand and reached into a pocket with the other. A few seconds later, she had a couple of neat little sticks jammed into the ebony locks, holding the knot in place. Slanting a look at him, she said, “You ought to know that I’m tempted to tell you no, just for the hell of it, just to see what you’d do, just to give you grief.”

  Hearing the unsaid but, he cocked a brow and waited. And thought about going over there, pulling those sticks out of her hair, just to see it all come tumbling down around her shoulders. Damn, that hair. He loved it.

  “But… I get the feeling you’re serious about letting me have Pulaski. And I think we could do this better together. So, fine. We’ll do it together.” She sauntered toward him, her lush mouth an unsmiling line, her eyes glinting with an unholy light. “But I’m warning you, Hunter… screw me over and I will make you bleed.”

  Two seconds later, he felt a prick. And he realized she was better than he thought. She’d distracted him, all right, using that lovely body and that gorgeous hair. She’d palmed a knife again, and this time he hadn’t noticed. Shit, she was dangerous.

  And not just because she currently had that thin sliver of a blade pressed against his cock, either. Crooking a grin at her, he drawled, “Oh, come on, sweetheart. You really want to make me bleed there?”

  “Right now, I want you to bleed in so many ways and in so many places, I can’t even begin to list them.” She stepped back and then he watched as she took the blade and sheathed it.

  Narrowing his eyes, he studied the sheath— it was one of her fucking hair things. Sticking a knife in her hair was just plain stupid, but that little blade was sheathed. And nobody would think to look for it there, either. With a sly smile, she stuck it into her hair knot and grabbed her bag. “Come on, Hunter. Let’s get this done.”

  “I’ve got a name,” he said mildly.

  “Yeah. A weird one.”

  S

  HE followed him down the stairs, carefully checking for any signs she might have left. There wasn’t anything. If he’d left anything when he’d come in earlier, that was his own damn fault.

  He could worry about his own ass.

  That very, very fine ass…

  Scowling, she jerked her gaze away from that very, very fine ass and focused on his back instead. Nice back. Leanly muscled. Not bulky though. It was possible for shifters to bulk up— she’d seen it. It was freaky and required a dedication to pumping iron— usually in the seven-, eight-, nine-hundred-pound range, but she didn’t like that kind of mass on a man anyway.

  He looked… well, like what he was. A leanly muscled wolf in human’s clothing. That skin he wore was the disguise. Once they reached the kitchen, she pushed around him and said, “You know, if you damaged my bike, I’m going to damage you.”

  “You’re so violent… I love it.” He followed her outside, but before she could get to the bike, he did, using that wolf-quick speed and resting a hand on the handlebars. “I’ll push it out.”

  “I can get my own bike,” she said, glaring at him.

  “Yeah, and until I’m on the damn bike with you, I’m pushing
it. You don’t trust me… I don’t trust you, either. I definitely don’t trust you not to try and take off without me.”

  Sylvia had to admit. It had occurred to her, more than once, although she’d brushed the idea away almost immediately.

  She’d said she’d work with the jerk. She didn’t go back on her word. Glaring at him, she shoved him back from her bike. Or she tried. He didn’t move. “Look, pal. I said we could do this together. Now will you back off?”

  “So you can try to get on it and take off?” He leaned over the bike, pressed his nose against the curve between her neck and shoulder.

  Sylvia shuddered, but all he did was breathe her in.

  “You know, I think I’ll back off. And part of me even hopes you try to run. You know what will happen if you do? I’ll chase you… ever been chased by a Hunter, Syl?”

  “Don’t call me Syl,” she said hoarsely.

  He ignored her, rubbing his cheek against the sensitive flesh of her neck. She needed to push him away. Really. That was what she needed to do. Instead, she just stood there. “You haven’t been chased by one of us. You’ve done a damn good job staying out of our way,” he rumbled, his voice taking on that deep, low rasp. “But you couldn’t do it this time. Know what they say about a Hunter and his prey?”

  He bit her.

  Sylvia slammed a hand against her bike. If she hadn’t, she just might have collapsed to the ground, a useless puddle of flesh, want and lust.

  “Once we get your scent, we never stop.” He lifted his head, staring down at her with eyes that glittered. Eyes that burned. Eyes that glowed. “And Sylvia… I’ve got your scent all fucking over me.”

  Her heart beat hard and slow inside her chest. Stifling a groan, she whispered, “Is that a threat, Hunter?”

  “No.” He cupped her chin in his hand, stroked his thumb over her lip.

  “It’s a promise. And I think you and I both know that I don’t plan on sticking a knife in you. I want something else entirely.” Pressing down against her lip, he held her gaze with his and then asked gruffly, “So… are you going to try and run?”

  She was tempted. Wildly tempted. For several reasons. He made her nervous… and she didn’t like it. He made her needy… that wasn’t so bad. And while she might have enjoyed the chase, she was more inclined to run just to get the hell away. Because he was complicating her life all too much and he’d only been in it for less than a day. And in a matter of days, he’d likely be out of it.

  Sylvia didn’t need complications.

  Blowing out a sigh, she turned her head. “I’ve got a job to do. Anything else has to wait… including jerking your chain.”

  “So you’d run to jerk my chain?”

  Sliding him a look, she muttered, “I get the feeling I could have a lot of fun jerking your chain.”

  CHAPTER 12

  “Y

  OU’VE got people after you.”

  Alan Pulaski rolled onto his belly and smiled at the man on the bed. He felt half-drunk. This was… intense. He’d had no idea life could get this fucking intense. “Yeah. I know.” Of course, he had people after him. He wasn’t worried… they couldn’t find him.

  Not now.

  A hand, hard and brutal, came down on his flank with bruising force. “You should be a little more aware.”

  Pouting, Alan stared at his lover. “What’s the problem? The cops haven’t found me yet. They aren’t very likely to. Nobody knows you. Nobody knows about you. Nobody knows I’m here, and it’s not likely I’m going to go to the grocery store or anything.” He giggled insanely at the thought.

  The grocery store… well, he’d always enjoyed that place. But still, he knew he had to be careful. He wasn’t going to go out advertising himself for crying out loud.

  A hand fisted in his hair and jerked him up. “I’m having fun with you, but if you start being stupid, that’s not going to last.”

  “I…” Alan swallowed, fear filtering through the near-drugged feeling that had wrapped around him for the past few weeks. “Look, I’m not going to do anything stupid. I’m not going anywhere, not talking to anybody. How can anybody find me?”

  Shooting for a smile, he slid a hand down, wrapped it around the man’s cock. Squeezed. Watched as the man’s lashes dropped. He squeezed, tighter… tighter. “I’m not going to be stupid. I’m just going to be here. Right here. Until you’re ready for us to be elsewhere.”

  The hand in his hair pushed downward. Alan went. He’d please the man. Later, the man would please him with their games. And maybe he’d even bring him another little toy. He found the best ones.

  H

  E rose from the bed, leaving Alan sleeping behind him.

  They needed to leave.

  It had to be handled with care, but they needed to leave.

  Alan didn’t realize what was coming after them, but he did.

  He’d felt that strange, hushed silence for the past two nights, and it had kept him trapped in the house like a little rabbit cowering in a field, hoping the hawk wouldn’t find him.

  It pissed him off, but he rather enjoyed life, so he’d cower. He’d be pissed off. He’d live— and he’d make sure Alan did the same.

  His latest lover was a stupid son of a bitch, but Alan understood pain.

  And pain was something he had to have… since Alan could give it to him, Alan would get some leniency.

  But they couldn’t linger any longer.

  He’d had a feeling this was coming, so preparations had been in the works all day. No more time to waste.

  S

  HE’D been riding motorcycles off and on for decades. Her first bike had been an Indian— a 441. Sylvia had loved it… damn, she’d loved that one. It had died a brutal death, though, when she’d been pursuing one icy piece of work in 1949. Since then, she’d had a number of other bikes, Indians, Harleys, a couple of Ducatis, but she had a fondness for the Indian.

  For the past three decades, she’d spent a decent amount of free time restoring bikes. The new bikes were fun, but there was just something about the classics. She knew them inside and out and it was almost as much fun for her to build one as it was to ride one— almost.

  Riding, for her, though, was a solitary thing. She didn’t like to share— hell, she didn’t even like to be around people.

  So why was it oddly easy to be around him? Easy… and erotic. Having Toronto sitting so close up against her back was driving her mad, making it almost impossible for her to concentrate on what she needed to be doing.

  His hands, those long-fingered, poetic-looking hands, rested on her hips, fingers splayed down to touch the tops of her thighs, another distraction she just didn’t need. As she took a left on the road up ahead, he asked, “Are we looking for something in particular?”

  “Yeah. Use your nose. Tell me when you smell it.” It was in the air, but it was faint, fainter than last night.

  “I already smell it. You want to tell me why we’re tracking it?” He leaned forward, dipping his head a little so that his chin rested on her shoulder.

  Close… man, he was just too close. Did he have to sit so close? She wanted to groan. At the same time, she wanted to cuddle even closer, sink against the warmth of that lean, powerful body and feel his arms come around her. Instead, she kept her body rigid as she replied, “Because I think we need to. You wanted to work together, so work with me.”

  “I am working with you.” He laughed, humor heavy in his voice, his fingers kneading her hips. “Come on, it’s not like I’m demanding you turn around and head somewhere else, am I? I’m not growling at you to follow my lead or anything. And actually… I had a source tell me that Pulaski had a rich new lover. Even indicated this general area.”

  Sylvia glanced around, eyeing the subtle gleam of golden light behind arched windows of etched glass, the look of rough-hewn stone or aged brick, all the carefully manicured lawns. “Rich guys, yeah. You’ll find them here.” Something vague and uncomfortable started to itch along her spine. She
didn’t like it… odd, slippery, familiar—

  Frowning, she brought the bike to a halt at a stop sign and turned off the engine. “Something’s wrong,” she said quietly.

  “Yeah?” He kicked a leg off the bike and moved to the sidewalk, looking around. His head fell back and he scented the air. “There’s blood in the air, but it’s old. A few days, at least. It’s coming from the same place as the sex, the sweat.”

  “I smell pain. Misery.” Shaking her head, she looked at him and said, “How can your Master have something like that going on so close to his house?”

  “Do me a favor— quit calling him my Master like I’m his dog or something,” Toronto said, his voice just barely above a growl. Then he shoved a hand through his hair, shook his head. “The blood I smell, it’s all human. We’re not omnipresent, Sylvia. Not all-powerful. Memphis has got one hell of a paranormal population and lately, it’s getting bigger. We’ve got our hands full just keeping that under control. When we know something bad is going down, we’ll do what we can, but our main concern has to be our own kind. If they get out of control, the humans are screwed.”

  She stared at him, the stink of rage and anger so thick, so heavy. Then she shook her head and turned away. “We need to walk,” she said quietly. “Let’s find a place to stash the bike.”

  “There.” He pointed across the street.

  Sylvia narrowed her eyes before glancing at the house. “I’m not just leaving it in somebody’s drive.”

  “It’s not just somebody. It’s a local witch. I’ll tell him you’re leaving it. The bike will be fine.” He flashed a smile and there was something decidedly twisted in it. “Don’t worry, it will be completely safe. I want to ask him what’s going on around here anyway. This is the sort of thing Rafe would want to know about. And there’s no way this guy didn’t know.”

  * * *

  T

  HE door opened, revealing a brunet with cool gray eyes and a polite smile. It never wavered as he looked from Sylvia to Toronto, but she caught the slightest change in the air. Fear.