The Hunter

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The Hunter Page 23

by Theresa Meyers


  “Then it’s not the end,” she breathed. He pulled back a fraction, placing their faces nose to nose. Caught between the unyielding cold metal of the wall and the hot, unyielding wall of his chest, all she could focus on was his face, his mouth.

  “It isn’t?” he whispered, brushing his lips in a featherlight touch over hers.

  She gasped at the tingle, opening her mouth. “No. It’s just a new beginning.”

  He pressed his mouth to hers in a searing kiss that shot sparks down to her toes and wrapped a tight loop around her heart, tying it to him. Everything within her responded. Colt angled closer, placing his other hand beside her shoulder on the opposite side, creating a cage she never wanted to escape.

  A sudden grinding sound and vibration behind her head pricked her ears. An instant later, the wall behind Lilly slid open, causing her to stumble backward out of his arms.

  She caught a fleeting look at Colt’s stunned expression before the door slid shut between them, closing her inside absolute darkness.

  Chapter 20

  The wall shut with a loud clang.

  “Lilly! Lilly, can you hear me?”

  She pounded on the metal wall separating them. “Get me out of here!” Her voice was muffled, but audible, and from the tenor of it highly displeased. “Colt Ambrose Jackson, you get me out of here right now!”

  “Don’t touch anything. I’m working on it.”

  A tremor, born of panic, made his hands unsteady. He had absolutely no idea how to get her out.

  He wasn’t even sure exactly what had happened. One minute he was kissing her soft, willing mouth and the next the wall had opened and swallowed her whole. He ran his palm across the smooth, cold metal. Not a handle. Not an edge. Not a hinge to be found. If asked, he would have sworn an oath that the damn thing had never moved in a hundred years.

  “Are you even trying anything?” she shouted, her voice thickly muffled.

  What was the last thing he’d done? He’d kissed her. That couldn’t have been the trigger. Colt shook his head. Think, dammit. He’d been so focused on the feel of her curves against him and the softness of her skin that he hadn’t paid any attention to precisely where he’d placed his hands.

  He peered more closely at the wall. It was covered in small tiles, no bigger than six inches square, that all looked the same. He’d leaned against her as he’d kissed her, and must have inadvertently triggered one of those tiles. Where had his hands been? Which one had he inadvertently pushed? Closing his eyes, he imagined he was still kissing her, how she’d felt, which stirred him up all over again. Holding his hands in position around an invisible succubus, Colt cracked open an eye, took a guess, and pressed one.

  There was a sudden swoosh, thunk on the other side of the wall that made him jump back and the wall vibrate. “No!” She yelled. “Not that one!”

  “What happened?”

  “Something big and heavy just came swinging by and nearly hit me.”

  Colt held the torch aloft. Glinting in the flickering light was a razor-thin outward-bending crease. Clearly it had been a good-sized blade of some kind that had just about found its target. Hell’s bells. No more time for mistakes.

  Sweat began to itch on the back of his neck. While the temperature within the tunnel seemed constant, Colt might as well have been out in the noonday sun. He tried hard to think of exactly where she’d been positioned when he’d leaned forward. He pressed another tile and an ominous grinding noise began. Damn. Double Damn.

  Suddenly he noticed that the passageway was starting to get gradually smaller and smaller as the wall behind him inched closer. If he didn’t pick the right tile, right now, he’d be squashed like a bug, and Lilly would be entombed forever in this Hunter-devised maniacal killing machine.

  Colt frantically skimmed his shaking fingers over the cold metal tiles. Which one? He tried to ignore the wall encroaching on his back. God. Was there any air in here, or were his terrified lungs constricted by fear for Lilly, and for himself?

  Think, boy. Think!

  Sweat beaded his brow and upper lip as he rubbed his damp hands together. He closed his eyes again, letting his fingers and his Hunter instincts take over. There. His fingertips encountered a tile that was slightly warmer in temperature. He pressed the heel of his hand against it with a silent prayer.

  The wall slid open.

  Lilly catapulted out of the opening and into his arms, nearly bowling him over and knocking his hat and the lit torch to the ground. “Finally! You have no idea—”

  But the moving wall behind him hadn’t stopped pressing forward, skidding his hat and the torch along on the floor. He grabbed Lilly about the waist, lifted her up against him, and attempted to drag her back into the opening she’d just escaped. The torchlight guttered out.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to keep us from getting killed!”

  Lilly whipped around and slapped a tile. The moving wall bearing down on them ground to a halt, then slowly started to retreat.

  Colt’s breath was sawing in and out. He felt around for the torch and relit it, then stared at her in astonishment. “How’d you know which one to push?”

  She raised a brow. “I could still see the imprint of your hand on it.”

  “In the pitch dark?” Colt shifted his gaze and stared hard at the wall. All the damn tiles still looked identical to him. “That must be some pretty amazing eyesight you’ve got.”

  Lilly shrugged, glancing quickly up and down at him. “I’m incapable of seeing through walls or clothing, but Darkin vision is better than human vision at spotting human heat in the dark.”

  “What else can you see?”

  Her brow arched upward. “That there’s more between you and China McGee than you’ve been telling me.”

  Colt grunted, pulling away from her and scooping his Stetson up from the floor. He dusted it off and settled it back on his head. “True, but hardly likely to get us out of this machine.”

  Lilly’s eyes narrowed. He turned away from her and started walking, leaving her to follow in the flickering shadows.

  “I would have thought by now I’d more than proved myself to you,” she bit out.

  “Oh, you have, but just because you’ve proven trustworthy doesn’t mean I trust easily,” he replied without heat.

  “Because of her, or because it’s me?”

  Colt locked his intense gaze on hers. She sucked in a startled breath in response. “Neither,” he said plainly.

  “You said your mama didn’t want you to become a Hunter. Then why did you, Colt?”

  A flash of the demon’s face, pale and sinister, swam into his view, the yellow eyes indelibly marked on his memory. “Because a demon didn’t give a damn if I was a Hunter or not, only that I was Cy Jackson’s son. He would have killed me and the rest of my family that day if Winn and Pa hadn’t known what to do.”

  “And China?” she pressed.

  “China just showed me I was still green as a Hunter.”

  “And it still rankles.”

  A corner of his mouth lifted at the thought of how she’d conned him, leaving him to wake without his weapons or his clothes, let alone his gambling winnings. It’d been a hell of a strip card game involving some strong Kentucky Red Eye and a big head on his part, thinking he could outwit the sexy-as-hell shifter and have some fun while he was at it.

  “Yeah. I’ve tried to never forget myself around another supernatural again.” Until you, he added silently. He thought she winced at the comment, but she said nothing.

  They fell into a companionable silence as they walked down the tunnel, following the twists and turns. Her shoulder brushed against his, causing a growing friction that was making him restless inside. Every once in a while he’d pause, checking the walls for some indication they were headed in the right direction, but he did his level best to ignore the increasing heat she was stirring up inside him.

  Not only was this the wrong time and place, she was the wrong woman. S
he wasn’t even human, and he damn well had better start remembering that, even though his johnson didn’t seem to agree. Sometimes there were lines you didn’t cross. Rules that had to be followed. Having an intimate relationship with a Darkin, let along falling for one, was one big hell of a bad decision for a Hunter. Darkin were business, not pleasure, and certainly not someone to love. Usually. But then again, Lilly wasn’t your usual Darkin.

  The steady rhythm of her breathing was somehow comforting and maddening at the same time. He’d been hunting alone for longer than he wanted to admit. And the sweet, intoxicating fragrance that flowed around her was so damn feminine and inviting that he found himself taking deep breaths just to indulge in it, then getting angry at himself for doing so.

  He had to remind himself that was what a succubus did. Enticed a man to madness, convinced a man to throw caution to the wind. Made him believe he was the only man for her and that she was all that mattered. But no matter how it rankled, Colt had to admit what he was beginning to feel for Lilly wasn’t just plain old lust—it was something far more dangerous for a Hunter—an attraction that made him want to tuck her in tight against him and never let her go. He loved her, dammit.

  Lilly’s boots scraped against the floor as she stumbled. He grasped her elbow. “Are you—” Colt stopped and cocked his head. Oh, shit. The grinding and click of gears could be heard behind the metal sheeting of the wall. Her breathing sped up as she lifted her braced hand from the depressed pressure plate in the wall. Whatever she’d done, it hadn’t been good. He tensed.

  “Colt ...”

  He swung around, and the torchlight bounced unevenly with the movement as he searched for a sign of what was coming. “What?”

  “Something is happening ...”

  “I know, dammit!” Clunk, clunk, scree. At about shoulder level, long thin hatches slid open. “Get down!” Colt tackled her about the middle, knocking her to the floor. Two massive scythe blades, hooked and sharp like the ones carried in drawings of the Grim Reaper, snapped out of the walls. They swung so fast, raking in unison along the hallway where their necks had been, that the air whistled with their movement. Whoosh.

  Scree. Clang. The long hatches slid closed, making the walls look innocuous once more—a long, tiled hall of greenish bronze, punctuated with riveted ribs. The torch still burned as it lay beside them.

  They lay face-to-face on the floor, Colt cradled between her buckskin-clad thighs. Colt rose up on his arms, afraid of crushing her, yet keenly aware of how soft and warm she felt beneath him. Her breath was coming in short, shallow pants, born out of panic. In the light of the torch he could see her cream complexion flushed bright pink and her eyes clouded with dark fear. Her curls spread out a tumble of dark red silk over the floor. She’d never looked more alluring.

  Talk about bad timing.

  But then wasn’t his entire partnership—for want of a better word—with Lilly fraught with ill timing?

  Inwardly Colt cursed himself. “Some tunnel, huh?”

  “Are you sure your father even wanted you to find this thing?”

  “He did, but apparently whoever built this contraption wanted to make damn sure the Hunter who found it was worthy.” He rolled away from her, careful to check the walls and listen for any sounds before he stood upright again. He liked having a good head on his shoulders and wanted to keep it that way. More importantly, he wanted to make sure Lilly kept her pretty head on her pretty shoulders.

  He offered her a hand and she got unsteadily to her feet. She brushed herself off and pushed her loose hair back over her shoulder. “How long do you think we’ve been down here?”

  Colt pulled the watch out of his pocket and looked at it in the light of the torch. “Six hours too long.” He glanced up at her. From the sag of her shoulders and the faint smudge of darkness beneath her eyes, he could tell she was tired. Hell’s bells, they’d already spent the better part of the day trekking up the mountain, down the gulch, and now into the mountain itself, where this machine was encased like a constantly beating heart.

  “What if we don’t find your third of the Book, Colt?” she said quietly as they started walking once more. “And I hate to point out the obvious, but what if we never get out of here?”

  Colt refused to think of that as an option. He would find it, or die trying. Without all three pieces of the Book of Legend, there’d be no closing the Gates of Nyx completely. Without all three pieces, Rathe would take over the world and the human race could collectively kiss its ass good-bye. “We ain’t got time to worry about it, because we are going to find it,” he answered. “And we will get out of here.”

  The long hall branched left, a conspicuous pile of huge brass cogs and gears stacked like remnants of some repair was in the corner. Colt considered picking one up, just to see if he could use it as a wedge in the next damn trap door that opened, then thought better of it. Messing up the stack could very well be another trap.

  She caught his gaze and smiled at him wanly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. He’d seen that defeated look before. Winn’s eyes had looked no different on the day the demon had hurt him so badly he’d nearly died. A small part of him crumpled inside, wanting to wipe that look away and make her smile instead.

  The corridor terminated in a round room, arched into a verdigris-streaked brass dome at the top. Lilly looked around, and her shoulders slumped. “A dead end?”

  “Don’t say that.” Colt turned and gently cupped her cheek in his palm. Her skin was smooth, warm and fragrant like the petals of a rose in the sun. He traced his thumb back and forth over her cheek, indulging in the feel of it. “We aren’t dead yet. We’re going to get out of this with the Book, Lilly, and we’re going to get you away from Rathe ... I promise on my soul.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she murmured softly, her voice blunted with pain. “Look around. We’re lost. Hopelessly and totally lost.” Her lashes turned darker as moisture gathered in her eyes, threatening to spill over into full-blown tears. Colt didn’t think he could handle that. He pulled her into his arms and ignored the ache from the wounds still healing on his chest, letting her cling to him. He rubbed his hand slowly over her back and placed a kiss on the top of her head, inhaling the fragrance of her, letting it fill him up.

  She hiccupped, her body trembling. A cold wash of dread slid down his spine as hot dampness started to saturate his shirt right over his heart. Aw, hell. That did it. “How about this, I promise that’ll we’ll stop shortly and rest for the day.”

  She nodded against his chest and gave a slight sniffle. “Why?” Her voice was so small, so soft that he nearly missed it.

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you willing to help me?”

  He stroked her hair. “I promised,” he said simply. He didn’t need more of a reason than that. A Hunter’s promise was ironclad. His honor, his ability to trust his brothers in the Legion, depended on it.

  Lilly gazed up into his face, her green eyes luminous and fringed with dark spiky lashes. “How big a fool do I look to you, Colt Jackson?”

  Her words hit him like physical blows, triggering his defense. “You don’t believe a Hunter can have honor when it comes to a supernatural?”

  She nibbled her lip. “If what you want to call it is honor, then you’re the first Hunter I’ve met with it.”

  For a moment he couldn’t look at her. There was simply too much push and pull, confusion and mixed emotion. Duty. Honor. Loyalty. Love. Aw, hell. He’d reached the tipping point with her where he couldn’t lie to himself any further. There was more of him invested in Lilly than just his libido; she’d somehow slowly claimed his heart.

  He peered at the walls looking for some sign of what they should do next. There, at the center of the floor, was a small lion’s head. He stepped on it. A huge crunching thud echoed under the floor. Clicking noises preceded a sudden jerk beneath their feet as the entire room, floor and all, began to spin on its axis.

  As the room rotated
slowly, it cut off their access to the hallway, leaving them trapped, but gut deep Colt knew it was this or declare a stalemate and just sit there. They had to take the next step if they wanted out. They had to take the risk. He took a deep breath, then let it out real slow. “If you wouldn’t call it honor, what would you call it?”

  Lilly turned her gaze away from his broad shoulders and chiseled stubborn features as she contemplated how to answer him. She didn’t want him to see the unnatural feelings that were colliding inside her. The hero-worship she could understand. He was the Chosen, a legend in her world. But the small dull ache building in the pit of her stomach when she thought of what her life would be like if he freed her from Rathe and then walked away into the sunset, well, that was more difficult to comprehend.

  “I don’t know. Attraction, maybe. Friendship?” she offered.

  On one hand she wanted him to be attracted to her, and not just because Rathe had made it her mission to romance the Book away from him. On the other she feared what an emotional entanglement with him might mean. She’d learned the hard way very young not to trust a single soul—her father had seen to that. Putting all her chances of escaping Rathe into Colt’s hands was a huge risk. For so long she’d contemplated what she might do if she wasn’t Darkin anymore, how she’d find Amelia and start life over. Putting her trust, her heart, in a Hunter’s hands was a risk she’d been sure she wouldn’t be willing to take. Until now ...

  Colt’s touch was soft, but his eyes weren’t as he brushed an errant curl away from her temple. “I can tell you whatever is happening between us is far beyond friendship.” Her whole world felt like it was spinning, and while logically she knew the floor beneath her feet and the room she stood in rotated, she couldn’t help but think some of this instability was in her unusual responses to Colt, because this kind of spinning made her head and chest feel light.

  Never having made many friends when she’d been mortal, Lilly was ill equipped to make a comparison. “How do you know?”

 

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