Twilight Hunter (The Execution Underground)

by Kait Ballenger

  “Don’t be a smart-ass. Are you ready?”

  He shrugged. “Let’s go.”

  “To start with, I want you to try and shift on your own. You won’t be able to, but do what feels natural. What would you start with?”

  “Well, I’d start with taking off my clothes. I don’t want to rip my expensive threads.” He poked his finger through a hole in his coat.

  “Okay, Casanova. Strip down, then.”

  Jace shrugged off his coat and pulled his shirt over his head, then tossed them to the side.

  * * *

  FRANKIE’S EYES WIDENED. The memory of Jace’s arms flexing as he drove himself into her invaded her mind. Heat shot to her core. She shouldn’t be thinking like this. But the way his stomach tightened when he thrust into her... The thought lingered. She smiled and bit her lower lip, then snapped herself back to reality. “Now what would you do?” she finally managed to say.

  “Get down on my hands and knees?”

  She waved him forward. “Don’t ask me. Go ahead.”

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Jace knelt on the platform and lowered his weight onto his hands, then got off his knees and balanced on his toes. “All right,” he said. “This is all you’re getting out of me. You’ve got about three more seconds of this before I stand up again.”

  She shook her head and sighed. “That’s all I needed to know. You can get up now.”

  He stood and faced her. Her eyes drank in the lines of his body and the hard muscles disappearing under his jeans. She clenched her jaw and tried to focus.

  “Okay. From that, I can tell that you’re what we’d call a crouched shifter. Basically, there are three methods of shifting. The first is to stand as tall as possible, usually with the spine arched back, and allow the energy to flow through you from the bottom up.” She straightened her back and imitated the pose.

  “The second is to crouch down, like you did. You can drop into a deep knee-bend and arch your spine, or you can get all the way down on the ground. Crouching is common because it allows you to focus all your energy in one condensed space, and since you’re in a similar position to your animal form, it’s easier to transition. Then there are shifters who can switch in either stance, dual-shifters, but that takes a lot of practice. Only our best warriors can do that. So since you’re a crouched shifter, you’ll want to drop down rather than straightening when you’re trying to transition.”

  Jace nodded. “Crouched shifter. Got it.”

  “Okay. Now crouch down again. Whichever lowered stance feels comfortable.”

  Jace bent his knees and arched forward like a large animal waiting to pounce.

  “Channel your energy wherever it’s strongest. Focus on pushing all your energy there.”

  He raised a single brow. “What energy?”

  “What do you mean, ‘what energy’?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t feel any energy.”

  She sighed and walked to his side. “Straighten up again.”

  He rolled his shoulders back to stand at his full height, towering over her. The closeness of his body to hers sent a fresh wave of heat straight through her. “It’s the energy inside you. The kind you feel when the moon is full. That sort of stirring. Right here in your chest.” She placed her palm over his solar plexus. She looked up, and their eyes locked. She had to fight to get the words out. “It’s right here. It pulls at your whole being, like something connected to your soul.” She glanced at the floor. “Do you feel it?”

  Jace placed his hand over hers. “Only when you touch me.”

  She met his eyes again, and her breath caught. They stood in total stillness.

  He stroked his thumb over the top of her hand. “I’m sorry your parents forced you into a relationship you didn’t want,” he said, barely above a whisper.

  She swallowed, trying to find the ability to speak. “Thank you. I’m sorry, too.”

  He kept staring, and Frankie wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. She inched closer. He cleared his throat and stepped back. Her hand fell from his chest to hang limp at her side. Yeah, she was an idiot. Always rushing in, when he only rebuffed her at every opportunity. Learn to take a hint, Frankie.

  Jace cleared his throat again. “I can feel it when the moon is full. But I can’t feel it now. So since I can’t really feel it, how am I supposed to gather it?”

  “You’re going to have to learn how to feel it.” Her palm tingled from where she’d touched his skin. Her arms didn’t feel right hanging at her sides, so she crossed them over her chest. She wanted to wrap them around him. Instead, she tightened them around her body, trying to hold herself together. “You’ve probably suppressed it so long that you can’t feel it anymore. Can you think back to the last time it was there?”

  “When I hunt.”

  “What do you mean?” she said.

  He stared at the wall as if he didn’t want to look her in the face. “When I’m out hunting...well, you know.” He glanced at her to gauge her reaction.

  “Werewolves? Our people?”

  Jace frowned. “When I’m hunting, I can feel something stir inside me. Almost like an animal living under my skin. A beast.”

  “That’s an interesting way to describe it. I’ve never heard anyone say that.”

  “Well, that’s how it feels to me.”

  “Is there any way we can simulate the feeling you get when you hunt?”

  He squared his jaw and rubbed his temples in slow circles. “Not unless you bring Alejandro back in here and let me tear into him.”

  “Aren’t you funny,” she said coldly. “What’s your problem with him, Jace?”

  “I have a problem with any moron who thinks he’s a badass and God’s gift to women.”

  “Sounds like someone else I know.”

  Jace’s mouth drew into a tight line, but it soon curled into a smirk. “The difference is, I actually am God’s gift to women.”

  Frankie rolled her eyes.

  A moment of silence passed between them as he scanned the length of her body and her skin seemed to catch fire. He could caress her with one look.

  “Come here,” he said.

  Without thinking about what she was doing, Frankie shuffled forward a few inches, then stared into his eyes and froze.

  He strolled across the platform and pulled her against his body. He laced his fingers through her hair, and a blush heated her cheeks.

  “If you stand close to me, I might be able to shift.”

  His grip on her tightened, and she could feel his erection push against the soft skin of her stomach. He leaned his face into hers, and she fought hard not to gasp as his lips lingered dangerously close to her ear. His warm breath danced over her skin.

  “Just stay with me.”

  * * *

  A LOUD BANG echoed through the air as Robert entered and slammed the door open. The sound of his own footsteps pounded in his ears, and he watched as his victim cringed. Anger coursed through him. He was sick of this. Where the fuck were they?

  He growled at the pathetic girl. “Why the hell haven’t Frankie and Jace come running to rescue you yet?” Surely they knew she was missing, had found her ransacked apartment by now, hadn’t they? That had been a lucky break, finding her wallet in her backpack.

  She remained silent, eyes cast down.

  A grin spread across his face. He clenched his jaw and cracked his neck. He would refrain from killing her—for now. He would wait until the right moment. He wouldn’t lose control. “No matter. They’ll get here eventually. I’ll make sure of it.”

  She tightened her lips, obviously fighting to keep her mouth shut.

  “What’s wrong? Cat got the werewolf’s tongue?”

  She stared at him, not saying anything.

  He frowned. The whole situation grated on his nerves. “I’m finding very little enjoyment in this.”

  “Then let me go.”

  He laughed. This particular piece of female t
rash was even more ignorant than he expected. “Why would I do that, when I can just spice up the current situation?”

  Her eyes widened as he unsheathed a new blade from his belt. It sparkled in the dim lighting.

  “Silver.” He nearly purred as he ran a single finger over the hilt.

  “Did you know that one of the most sensitive parts of the body,” he said, “is the collarbone?” He pointed the blade at her. “Answer me,” he growled.

  “N-no. I didn’t know that.”

  “Well, you’re in for a treat, because you’re about to find out firsthand.” He smiled.

  In seconds blood gushed from a gash on her collarbone, dangerously close to her major arteries. The iron stench of her blood filled the air as she screamed, and Robert relished the fragrance. He knew that with each shriek the pain in her neck increased, and his smile widened as she switched between screaming agony and silent suffering. Finally she fell silent and gasped in ragged, painful breaths.

  “As you can see, I was correct about the collarbone,” he said. A grin spread across his face. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Makes you feel alive.” He paused and scanned the length of her body. His eyes traced over the blood, distracting him momentarily. He pulled himself back. There was more blood to be had.

  “Did you know the clitoris has three times the amount of nerve endings as the entire head of a man’s penis?”

  She let out a strained whimper.

  “Answer me,” he said.

  Tears poured down her face as she shook her head.

  “You didn’t? Well, aren’t you lucky you have such a knowledgeable teacher? Be a good student and pay attention.” He placed the tip of the knife on the button of her jeans. “I have no interest in mutilating your feminine parts. I’ll need those for later.” His cock jerked at the thought of taking her cold, lifeless corpse.

  “Please let me go,” she begged. “I’ve never done anything to you. Please.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  “Let me go, you sick bastard!”

  “Mind your manners,” he growled, and pressed the flat of the blade to the skin of her forearm. When she didn’t react, he pulled the weapon back, looked at it curiously, then laid it on her skin again. His eyes narrowed into thin slits. “What’s this? A werewolf not affected by silver?”

  Her head hung from her neck like a broken limb. He placed the dull surface of the knife under her chin and lifted her head, forcing her to meet his eyes.

  “What are you?”

  “I’m nothing. I’m just human.” She held eye contact.

  He slapped her across the face. Her head jerked to the side, and he admired the red mark that marred her cheek. “You can’t be a human. The werewolves wouldn’t have anything to do with you.” He scanned her up and down as if she were some newly discovered species. “You’re not a regular werewolf, and you aren’t a Berserker....”

  “A what?”

  He ignored her and continued. “So what are you?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “I asked you a question.”

  She bit her lower lip and shook her head no.

  “Have it your way.” He sheathed the blade again. He crossed the room and retrieved a coil of rope, then removed a key from his pocket. She struggled against her shackles. Without a word, he grabbed hold of her feet and wrapped the rope around her ankles, binding her legs together. Then he unlocked the shackles.

  She toppled to the ground in a pathetic heap. He grabbed both her wrists in one hand and bound those, as well.

  He stared at the pinkish-colored rash ringing them, where the iron had begun to...eat away at her skin? “What’s this?” he said, lifting her wrists into the light of the single bulb overhead. He clutched her by the upper arms and shook her hard. She flopped in his grasp like dead weight. He threw her back onto the floor. Her back hit the concrete hard, and her curls spilled into her face.

  “What are those?” He shoved her head to one side, smashing her cheek into the floor. His fingertips ran over the top edge of her ear. “Pointed ears.”

  She panted like a distressed dog until he released her. She writhed until she slowly inched away from him.

  “A faerie.” A devilish grin spread across his face as he made a tsking noise with his tongue. A more interesting victim than he’d thought. A rush of glee overcame him. “This is going to be interesting.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  AFTER THIRTY-SIX HOURS of hanging around outside K9’s in the hopes of running into Allsún, David changed his tactics. Sure, he’d also been waiting to see if Jace would finally manage to shift, but every waking spare moment had been spent thinking about her.

  Now David stood outside the steps to the Temple Building apartments and sighed. He’d taken a major risk coming here. Allsún wouldn’t exactly welcome him with open arms. Wheedling her home address out of Frankie had been for Execution Underground purposes, or at least that was what he’d told her—and himself. But he knew his motives had been purely personal. After five years of missing her, he just couldn’t let her go again so easily.

  He lingered outside her building, thinking this was probably one of his dumbest ideas yet.

  He climbed slowly up the steps, glad his new walking cast meant he didn’t need crutches anymore. His finger hovered over the call buzzer. A tight feeling squeezed his lungs. He wasn’t sure he could handle it if—or when, most likely—she told him to get lost. With a deep breath, he sucked up his feelings and pushed the button.

  He waited for her voice to come over the intercom. Nothing. He pushed the button again. Still nothing. He pressed the buzzer several more times, but there was no response. She had to be there, because he’d been watching so long that he would have seen her if she’d gone out. Could she see him from her apartment and just wasn’t answering? Looking up, he examined the windows. Not a single set of blinds or curtains open. He checked his watch. Almost midnight. She must have left and he’d just missed her. Defeated, he turned to leave just as the front door creaked open.

  A man poked his head out. “Can I help you?”

  David assessed him. He looked like he belonged on a magazine cover, the kind of guy who couldn’t walk past a mirror without admiring his own reflection.

  “Yeah, I’m looking for Allsún O’Hare. She might go by Allie.”

  The man nodded. “Oh, yeah. Cute little thing, mop of curly hair? Apartment 209.”

  A slight surge of protectiveness pulsed through David. If he hadn’t been sure this guy swung the other way, he might have been pissed. “That’s her.”

  The man looked thoughtful. “You know, come to think of it, I haven’t seen her since yesterday, actually. I’m the super here, by the way. Victor.” He stuck out his hand.

  David shook his hand but didn’t introduce himself. “Nice to meet you. Look, is there any way I could get up to her apartment? Just in case she’s there and the buzzer is broken.”

  “The buzzer’s not broken. I heard you because I have a master receiver and it buzzed in my room. Usually I don’t allow nonresidents to come in without being buzzed up.” He eyed David up and down, and grinned. “But since I haven’t seen her, I think it would be good to check on her. Come on up.”

  David ignored the super’s flirtatious look and followed him up the stairs. After two flights, they stopped outside door 209.

  Victor knocked on the door. “Allsún, it’s Victor. There’s someone here to see you.” He paused. Nothing but silence answered back. “Allsún, are you all right? Are you in there?” He knocked again.

  “Can we go inside?” David asked.

  Victor shrugged. “I guess.” He reached to his belt and removed a large set of keys, then sorted through them until he found one marked 209. He slowly opened the door and stuck his head inside. “Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh.”

  He stumbled back. David’s heart stopped beating. He threw open the door and burst inside, gun drawn. “Holy hell.”

  The apartment had been ransacked.
The desk had been overturned, scattering office supplies across the floor, and books had been thrown in every direction when the bookcase had been knocked over. Someone had ripped the sheets to shreds. The words Come and get her, Frankie were painted in crimson across the wall. The smell of blood permeated the studio apartment. David let out a strained cry and tore out of the room and past the rattled super as quickly as he could with his injured leg.

  “Where are you going? I need to call the cops!” Victor yelled after him.

  David ignored him and did his best to hurry down the stairs and out to the street, where he threw himself into his Escalade and sped away. Damn, he needed his motorcycle back.

  * * *

  FRANKIE LET OUT a long sigh. Thirty-six hours. Thirty-six long, drawn-out hours, and Jace still wasn’t any closer to shifting than when he’d first started. They’d spent night and day standing in the middle of K9’s, trying every possible approach she could come up with, but with no success. Thirty-six never-ending hours, and still nothing.

  “This is bullshit,” Jace growled.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “The more frustrated you get, the less this is going to work.” As much as she wanted him to lose his anger and cut the attitude, she couldn’t blame him. Even she was starting to get tired of the ordeal, and she wasn’t even the one trying to shift.

  “It’s not working to begin with. How can it possibly be any worse?”

  She fought back a scream. If she had to hear one more complaint, she was going to rip her hair out by the roots, followed by Jace’s.

  Marching straight up to him, she placed her hands on her hips. No way was she listening to any more whining. “Jace McCannon, you listen to me—now. It normally takes weeks to learn this, but you only have a matter of days, and we’ve already used up over twenty-four hours. I suggest you suck up your frustrations and shift.” She felt her teeth grind together as she battled back her impatience.

  He frowned. “You really know how to put a guy in his place, don’t you?”

  She poked him hard in the chest. “I’m packmaster, and you’re a temporary member of this pack. It’s my job to kick you into shape. Now shift.”