by Moira Rogers
The hound tossed his napkin on the table and rose slowly. “The Guild sent me because they found the circumstances of Nate’s supposed demise suspicious. They didn’t believe that Satira would return from the Deadlands without Nate’s body. Not if there was a chance…” He trailed off.
Nate crossed his arms over his chest. “A convenient time for the Guild to take note of Satira and her feelings. They ignored her readily enough for a decade.”
“Yes, they did.” Emmett’s gaze narrowed. “You’re not a vampire, though, are you? Not like any I’ve seen.”
It was Hunter who answered. “He wasn’t strong enough to survive the transformation from human to vampire, so they tried to save him with my blood. He’s…a little bit vampire and a little bit bloodhound.”
“I’m an abomination,” Nate supplied in an even voice. “And Ephraim’s successors would love to take me apart without giving me the mercy of a clean death first.”
It wasn’t a conversation suited to the bright formality of the dining room. Ophelia rose and put herself between Nate and the others. “Shall we retire from the table, gentlemen?”
Emmett watched them as Hunter joined her, sliding one tense arm around her waist. “I would like that. Toby here had planned to go out.”
Only a handful of reasons to venture out so late, and drinking and whoring were chief among them. “I may have some suggestions regarding establishments,” she offered.
Tobias laughed at that, and he dipped his head in a quick bow. “Don’t worry about me, ma’am. I always find my way.”
Hunter tensed at her side, but his words were relatively mild. “I’ll be making my evening patrol in an hour or so, if you don’t think you’ll be otherwise occupied.”
“By then?” He straightened and backed toward the door. “I certainly hope I will be.” He turned and left.
Emmett heaved a sigh. “I’d forgotten how damn cocky you new bastards could be.”
Nate chuckled. “Old friend, it’s not a condition that fades with time. Wilder makes my head ache. Still.”
The old hound barely smiled. “The Guild ordered me to bring you back, Nate. Now, I’m not going to. The way I see it, you’re not what they thought, and I don’t know if they’d rightly know what to do with you.”
Nate glanced to Hunter and Ophelia, his expression carefully controlled. “If the two of you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to Emmett in private. In my workroom, perhaps. We have a lot to discuss.”
Hunter glared over Ophelia’s head. “Is this another half-cooked scheme to get yourself out of our hair?”
“No.” Nate didn’t smile, didn’t even blink. “If Emmett wanted to take me back to the Guild, he wouldn’t waste time lying about it. He’s been a bloodhound longer than you’ve been alive, Hunter. You couldn’t stop him.”
The two men left, and Ophelia sagged against the back of a dining chair. “I wish Satira were here. She’d know how to better deal with this sort of…excitement.”
“Perhaps.” Hunter tightened his arm around her, drawing her back to rest against him. “Or perhaps she wouldn’t deal with it well at all. You know she doesn’t see clearly on the subject of Nate.”
Not regarding Guild representatives whose admitted orders were to drag her mentor back to New York. “You might be right.”
“Might be.” He spread his fingers wide on her abdomen, and his breath stirred the hair at the back of her neck. “I’d planned to woo you, you know. To take my time. I used to be charming, once upon a time.”
“The best-laid schemes,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “Did it matter that you didn’t have to woo me?”
“Says who?”
She turned in his arms and clutched at his shirt. “Look at me. I don’t want you to be charming. I want you to be Hunter.”
“I’m still learning who that is.” He cupped her cheek, his fingers smoothing over her brow. “You were right about the new moon. I’m more settled, now. I can think again, at least a little. You gave me a little bit of peace.”
If only she could give him more. “I’m glad.”
He took a step backward, tugging her with him. “I’m caught somewhere in between. Seems selfish, to try to make a woman care for a man who can’t promise he won’t change before next week.”
That brought her up short. “Is that really what worries you?”
“That I’m selfish? It’s not a worry, it’s a fact.”
He was moving in for a kiss. Ophelia laid her fingers over his mouth. “No, that you’re still changing. That I can’t know who you are.”
Blue eyes seemed dark now, or maybe it was only the way his brows swept down. “Do you?”
It had seemed so easy when they were tangled up together in Sylvie’s bed, so sure. They belonged to each other, and nothing could change that. Here, now, it didn’t seem simple at all.
I used to be charming, once upon a time.
Ophelia stiffened. “It isn’t about you at all, is it? It’s about me, about you thinking I’d rather have another man, no matter what I say.”
Hunter just stared at her. “Next month, I might be another man, whether you want it or not. Last month I could barely string two sentences together.”
“And that’s the core of a man, how articulate he is?”
A growl rattled free of his chest. “His thoughts? Hell yes. His instincts, his urges? I haven’t got full control of any of them. What in hell have you seen in me that hasn’t changed since we first met?”
“Your strength,” she told him firmly. “You still don’t understand what would have happened to so many other hounds in that cage, Hunter. If they’d suffered the way you have. If you didn’t have one hell of an indomitable will, you’d be dead.”
Hunter closed his eyes. “Maybe it’s easier to see from the outside, then.”
He seemed so tired, and Ophelia cradled his face between her hands. “Is that it, or is it me you doubt?”
“I doubt…” His jaw clenched under her fingers. “I doubt you sometimes. When you’re promising me I’m not as bad as I feel. But you’re the only one I don’t doubt all the time.”
The pain was fleeting and inconsequential in the face of her own uncertainty, kindled by his words. “We may be mated, but we have a long way to go, don’t we?”
“Maybe.” Hunter lifted a hand to cover hers and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Sometimes I’ll try too hard, and sometimes I’ll infuriate you. But I don’t want you to give up.”
It wasn’t an option, for so many reasons, one above all. “I don’t want to give up.”
“Because we’re mated.” His voice wrapped satisfaction around the word, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he half-smiled. “We haven’t talked about it, you know. Not really. I was afraid to say the damn word.”
Letting him indulge whatever preconceptions had put that smile on his face was tempting, but ultimately weak. “It’s physical, Hunter. You’ll need me when the new moon comes, but beyond that… We wouldn’t even have to see each other if we didn’t want to.”
His smile didn’t fade. If anything, it grew. “Good.”
She couldn’t stop her own lips from curving into an answering smile. “That’s good?”
“Mm-hmm. New moons are magic.” He kissed the inside of her wrist, his tongue swiping over her pulse. “All the days in between, though, those are just you and me. No pretending I have to do this.”
The wet heat of the contact shivered through her. “You don’t have to…but I’d appreciate it very much if you didn’t stop.”
Eyes gleaming, he closed his teeth gently over the skin he’d just licked.
“So—” Her voice came out hoarse, so she cleared her throat. “Courting. I’ve changed my mind, you know. It sounds like a lovely idea.”
“That so?” He looked like he hadn’t bothered with a razor in a few days, and his stubble scraped her wrist as he worked his way back up to nip at the pad of her thumb. “I’ll have you know, Miss Ophelia, that any carriage ri
des we took would be unchaperoned and end with my hand under your skirts.”
“Does the fact that we’ve already seen each other naked make it any less a courtship?”
“No.” In one deft move he jerked her against him and half turned, leaving her back against the wall and one wrist pinned next to her head. “It’s a bloodhound courtship. We make our own rules.”
Words dissolved, leaving her with just a whimper to answer him. “Hunter.”
He nuzzled her neck, leaving feather-soft kisses in his wake. “Mmm?”
“Tell me,” she managed, driving her fingers into his hair. “Do your courtship rules preclude the nakedness I mentioned?”
“Only before patrol. I’ll never make it out the door.”
She kissed his earlobe. “But afterward is fine?”
“Mmm.” He licked her throat. “Might even say it’s preferred.”
Ophelia hummed softly—and bit his ear. “Then you’d better go see to your duties, yes?”
Hunter groaned and pushed away, retreating until his back hit the opposite wall. “I suppose it’s for the best. I need to make sure that asshole bloodhound’s not stirring up trouble.”
“And when you come back…” She took two sideways steps down the hall, keeping her gaze on him. “You know where to find me.”
“I’m already counting the minutes,” he promised. “The seconds.”
“So am I.” Ophelia turned for the stairs.
A courtship. No man had ever courted her before, though enough had tried. Some women of her acquaintance had encouraged such things, enjoyed the opportunity for companionship, but for her it had always been easier to quell such relationships. They led, necessarily, to expectations, and she was happier with no man having such a claim on her.
Had been happier.
By the time she reached the top step, Hunter had gathered his jacket and opened the front door. She leaned against the railing and watched him go, her thoughts already centered on his return.
Hunter hadn’t been back to Sylvie’s since the new moon, but he wasn’t surprised to find Tobias there. The brothel had the best liquor and prettiest ladies in Iron Creek, not to mention the highest stake card games.
It was exactly the sort of place Hunter himself had all but lived, and maybe it was a sign of progress that he didn’t think of it as the sort of place Matthew had enjoyed.
He found Tobias grinning across a table at Sylvie, a hand of cards held close to his vest. “You’re nigh unto impossible to read, Miss Sylvie. I’m impressed.”
“I was beating bloodhounds at cards before you’d seen a woman naked, Tobias.” Sylvie flashed Hunter a grin, one so friendly you wouldn’t think he’d damn near torn apart her bedroom in an attempt to throw her out of it. “The liquor helps. Are you here for a drink, Hunter?”
“I’m afraid not, Miss Sylvie. I came to see if Tobias is interested in turning his attention to some honest work.”
Tobias threw down his cards with a long-suffering sigh. “Is he always this much fun?”
“You were just gonna lose to me anyway, sweetheart. Think of him as your savior.”
“Ah, but what if I didn’t want to be saved from you?”
Sylvie kept on beaming at the damn man like she’d never met anyone half so charming, which improved Hunter’s mood not one jot. “You can come back and flirt when we’re done,” he grumbled, ignoring the amused look Sylvie shot him. “It won’t take that long.”
Tobias rose and nodded to Sylvie one last time before dropping his hat on his head. He laughed as he followed Hunter to the door. “You’re awful sour, you know. Why is that?”
The question irritated him, so he answered it truthfully. “I spent a few months in a cage being fed on by vampires. After a bloodhound ripped me to pieces during the full moon and changed me, that is.”
“Guess that’d do it.” Tobias stopped and turned to Hunter, his expression serious. “I did my recon earlier. The cribs over on the dark side of town? One of the girls told me there are regular drug shipments coming through on the train.”
Hunter’s gut knotted. “How regular?”
“She was a little vague about that part.” His jaw clenched. “Vague in a lot of ways. I planned on heading back later, though, after she’s had a chance to sober up. Maybe she can tell me more.”
“Damn.” Hunter rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and glanced up and down the street. “Maybe one of us needs to stay at the sheriff’s office tonight, in case there’s trouble in the town. Some might be too nervous to go up to the manor.”
“I’ll do it.” Tobias shrugged. “Emmett’s busy, and you’re sure the hell not going to let me near that pretty housekeeper without supervision, are you?”
Ophelia could take care of herself. That was the right answer, the one she’d want him to give. “Hell fucking no.”
It made the other hound laugh. “Well, I don’t blame you. I’m a charming bastard.”
“So Sylvie seems to think. Confine your charming attentions to all the willing women at her place, why don’t you?”
“Relax. I’m not out to steal your girl.”
“Wouldn’t be worried if you were,” Hunter lied. Then he unbent enough to smile. “But I’ve been out of my cage for all of a few weeks now, so I’m not making any promises about how rational I’ll be if you poke at me.”
Tobias untied his horse with lazy, unhurried movements. “I’m up for a good fight, but I’d rather it be with the sons of bitches hauling narcotics through Iron Creek.”
“I’ll do my best.” Hunter freed his own mount and swung into the saddle. “If you’ll keep an eye on the shady side of town, I can check everything else and show you around the sheriff’s office. There’s some sort of alarm system that runs from the office to the manor, though I’m not rightly sure how it works. Underground wires, maybe?”
“What about the sheriff?” Tobias flashed him a skeptical look. “You mentioned trouble with the law. Is he going to resent having me there?”
It was only then he realized how little Tobias knew. “Who do you think Wilder and Archer are out chasing? We are the law right now.”
But the man only grinned. “Even better. No one in my way, slowing me down.”
Checking the rest of town took longer than Hunter had planned. Not because the shady sorts were out looking for trouble—though they undoubtedly were, and would be in greater numbers in the long nights to come—but because the decent folk of Iron Creek had discovered a sudden yearning for his company and conversation.
Men who usually averted their gazes in his presence called his name from windows cracked open just far enough to let in the evening air. They asked for reassurances and offered their own hollow support in return, reminding Hunter they were great supporters of the Guild and its members. Women who had crossed the street to avoid walking too closely to him last week now smiled as if he alone could save them from whatever crept through the night.
Which was true enough, he supposed, but their shameless pandering only irritated him. They treated him like a beast, one to be soothed with smiles and the scraps of their regard, as if he’d value their acknowledgement and their temporary acceptance. As if they wouldn’t choke on their own spit if they knew he came from the kind of money that could buy their dusty town a half-dozen times over.
Worse, they stole precious minutes he could have spent with Ophelia, and that was the unforgivable sin that turned his tolerance to scowls and his assurances to curt answers and swift departures.
By the time he had returned to the manor and taken care of his mount, the crescent moon hung high. He studied it for a moment, the way it cut through the sky like a smile turned on its side, and smiled. From now until the half moon, he might actually feel a bit of peace. Be human enough to court Ophelia, even if courtship involved sleepy conversations after a long ride between the sheets.
He had a week, if nothing else. A week before he had to worry about the slow slide toward the full moon and the return of
the beast raging inside him.
He had to turn every free moment of it toward the task of winning her heart.
The manor was quiet when he stepped into the foyer, but a fire burned in the study. Thinking Ophelia had grown weary of awaiting him in her room, he stepped toward the door, recognizing the scent of the room’s occupant a moment too late.
Emmett was already pouring whiskey into two glasses. “Sit.”
Not a request, and Hunter would be a fool to pretend he didn’t know it. Choking back frustration, he hauled off his hat and obediently parked his ass in one of the chairs.
The older hound handed him a glass. “I imagine Harding hasn’t had much time to teach you about the Guild.”
“No,” Hunter admitted, accepting the whiskey without drinking it. “Haven’t really felt the lack, either, what with them not wanting anything to do with me.”
“That’s not precisely true.” Emmett leaned against the plush back of the sofa. “I rather heard they demanded he deliver you and he told them to bugger off.”
Hunter swirled the liquor around the glass, watching as it sloshed against the sides and reflected firelight at him. He trusted Wilder. He had to. The knowledge that the older man was strong enough to keep Hunter from hurting those around him had been his only hint of comfort in the earliest days.
But it was true. He hadn’t had much to say about the Guild. “Is there some reason they’d want me?” Some reason Wilder would have lied?
“Of course they’d want you. You’re an unknown, an enigma.” Emmett paused to down half his drink. “Hell, maybe they’d just have to open you up. See what makes you tick.”
Just like Nate. Hunter fought a shudder. “Did Wilder put himself in harm’s way by not handing me over?”
Emmett appraised him thoughtfully. “Perhaps. Though if he did, you can rest assured he did it with his eyes wide open.”
The feeling of being studied, of having some unknown quality weighed and measured, was unnerving. “And you’re not here to make him regret it? You’re their representative, aren’t you?”
The corner of Emmett’s mouth kicked up in a quick smile. “That’s a funny word. Means a lot of different things to a lot of different people.”
