The Bridal Hunt (Brides of the Hunt Book 1)

by Jeanette Lynn

  Breath catching on a gasp, his hazel eyes turned hot and wanting in the face of my fury. Too busy cursing and flailing futilely, I hadn’t noticed at first. As I finally did, though, I had to do a bit of a double take, gaping at the sexual heat gleaming in those disturbed hazel orbs.

  Eyes widening, I blinked a couple of times in disbelief, a little shocked at the sudden arousal blasting towards me from his end.

  What the hell...?

  With a bit of sudden clarity, I had a long flashback of all the arguments we'd gotten in over the years, the bellowing matches, the crazy make-up sex that subsequently followed, how insatiable he was right after—the passion it'd brought out in him.

  "You're the only person who understands," he whispered in my ear when I froze, leaning in and nuzzling his nose against my cheek.

  Jerking back as I snapped out of it, I tried to pull away again, his hold tightening even more as my struggles renewed. Adrenaline started pumping through me as my heart rate kicked up, fear starting to finally set in.

  "You want me, for me, Willy! You're the only one I love—I'll ever love. It's you or no one! You're the only woman who's ever had enough guts to stand up to me... Doesn't put up with any of my shit. You complete me, Pumpk- Willy."

  "You're completely nuts, is what you are! Now get off me!" Fighting harder, I growled, frustrated and a little more than worried at his crazy ranting/babbling.

  "You always let me have my wicked way with you." Acting as if nothing was amiss—as if he wasn’t holding me captive and I wasn’t threatening to cut his cock off and shove it down his throat, screeching from the top of my lungs—he grinned, so out of place for this particular conversation, referring to some of our more kinky forays in the bedroom.

  "Gah! Shut up!" I grunted, grimacing.

  "I was your first, remember, Willy? You let me love your body, let me love you... all night long," he whispered, making a sound in his throat I’m ashamed to say I once thought sexy, trying to nibble at my ear as he strained to pull me closer.

  Blech. Gritting my teeth, I flinched and pushed up against him, hoping to somehow knock him off balance. It backfired, his sturdy frame taking the shift in weight distribution without so much as a wobble. Damned fitness freak!

  "You make me want you so bad, Willy," he admitted quietly, voice turning to that deep, husky murmur he uses when he’s really turned on. Swiveling his hips, he thrust himself against me suggestively, a squeak slipping past my lips as he chuckled heatedly.

  If he's thinking this will somehow make me forget the last twenty minutes and jump into his kooky arms, he can guess again! Dream on, jerk face! This lady is done!

  Cursing under my breath, I fought harder, more frantic than before, trying with all my might to dislodge his determined, philandering ass.

  "This was supposed to bring us closer together, baby, not tear us apart! You were supposed to catch us and rant at her, not me! You're not even going to try and win me back? You're just going to call it quits? Give up on us? Just like that?"

  The delusional idiot seemed genuinely upset at the idea. Well trah-lah-freakin’-dah.

  "Why would I fight for a cheating asshole?!” I barked out, incensed. “You aren't worth it!"

  His obsessive, overbearing ass intent on constricting me to death if I tried to get away, I hissed when he gave me a squeeze. Letting out an angry grunt when the squeeze-fest didn’t let up, no sign of him easy up any time soon, my eyes shot daggers his way.

  "You don't mean that.” Arms loosening slightly at the death in my eyes, the crazy man frowned, pushing his thick bottom lip out when I didn’t relent, as if to pout.

  Is he serous? Really? God... he is. The man, in a word, was pathetic. Ack.

  With a bit of serious wriggling, I managed to get my hands between us and pulled on his tie, hoping to tighten it somehow and strangle his crazy ass.

  "Enough of your bull, okay?” I growled out. “You got caught. I’m done, we’re done, get over it! You’re full of crap anyway. You didn't even know I was coming in today! How could you? It was supposed to be a surprise! She wouldn’t tell. Your boss swore she wouldn’t. You couldn't have possibly-"

  "Yeah, uh, well, my boss told Candy and she told me," he admitted readily, cutting me off abruptly, shrugging his broad shoulders nonchalantly when that seemed to shut me right up.

  Watching me intently, a small, stupid grin played at his whorishly painted lips and he leaned in fast, trying to steal an unwelcomed kiss, again.

  The lipstick and the smile made him look like the creepy psycho guy in all the twisted horror flicks. Face pinching, insides clenching, I cringed visibly the second I saw that one coming. No amount of handsome could take away the creep factor right now—and, no, just... no.

  "You're sick!" I yelled, gripping his tie in a death grip, fingers itching for more leeway to tighten the fabric noose. "You cheated on me so I would call you out and we could just... what? Forget about it and jump each other's bones?" Barking out a mad laugh, I sputtered incredulously, my sea green eyes widening like saucers as he regarded me so seriously—clearly, unfazed.

  "You make it sound so crappy when you say it like that.” The pout came back, his smile faltering, and I felt bile rise in my throat.

  Here he is complaining about my attitude, completely unperturbed with what he'd planned, what he'd done, with what he's doing right now! And he has the gall to try and turn it on me?

  Oh. Hell. No.

  "You bastard!" Seething, steam practically pouring from my ears, I screeched and stomped on the toes of his fancy Italian shoes. It startled him so much he let go for a minute.

  Reacting instinctively, I gripped my trusty purse, fingers sliding over it to clench the strap, and slugged him with it. Swinging with all my might, I enjoyed the nice thwack it made as it smashed into his face. Take that, pretty boy!

  "Willy!" George shrieked as he clutched at his nose, trying to stem the blood rushing from his thick nostrils with one hand, the other reaching out for me desperately, his arm flailing about while I evaded his grip.

  Batting him away with another satisfying whack and a shin kick that left him stumbling and groaning, I hurried into my truck. Engaging the door locks, ignoring the lunatic’s frantic bangs on my window, I started the engine and threw my truck into drive.

  As if that wasn’t enough to get the whole we’re done message through to him, George jumped on top of the hood of my beloved means of transportation, eliciting a shocked scream from me as he suctioned himself to the windshield.

  "Get off my baby, you crazy bastard!" I bellowed, turning the washer fluid on him as he tried to straddle the hood and plead with me at the same time.

  Oh my god! He's lost his friggin’ mind! “And you’re denting my truck! Asshole!” Help!

  Employees were gathering around outside to watch the insanity unfold, and Candy, picking up on this too, started trying to yank good old George-y boy down by the cuff of his pant leg.

  Shaking her off easily, George ignored her. Calling out my name, he squinted at me, trying to stare me down through the steady stream of washer fluid I kept pelting him with. “Willy, baby! Don’t do this! I love you!”

  “You love yourself, you frickin’ psycho! Take that, huh? And that! And... Argh! That!”

  “I-gah-ah!”

  Note to self: replace washer fluid later.

  Fifteen fun filled minutes passed and a cop car pulled up—thank the lord!—a uniformed officer stepping out to take in the situation. His frown quickly turned into a scowl as he surveyed the scene, taking in the disheveled, lipstick wearing, washer fluid covered crazy man pounding on the hood of my poor truck with his fist, George’s other hand clutching one of my wiper blades for dear life, his body flopping back and forth with the swiping motion it made, swishing to and fro, as he shouted a stream of utter nonsense.

  Eyes travelling, the officer took in Candy, pulling on her lover’s pant cuff frantically, free hand still clutching my ring tightly to her impressive bosom as she
squeaked and squawked pleadingly, trying to talk her washer fluid drenched, lipstick smeared clown down.

  Then the poor man in blue’s gaze travelled to little ol’ me in my truck, screeching at George like a woman possessed, blasting my horn and tapping my windshield wildly, miming at him to get the hell off.

  He must have thought we were all nuts, and I couldn’t have blamed him.

  Twenty minutes later, as we each explained our own sides of the story, George was handcuffed for ignoring the officer's command to quit trying to approach me, or even talk to me, and stay the hell put, for the millionth time.

  I am completely and officially ready to wash my hands of this whole drama, I thought wearily, rubbing my forehead. Good-bye, George. Good-bye, Candy. Good-bye nice police officer. This girl has had enough!

  According to George, when questioned why he was having trouble obeying even the simplest of commands—sit and stay while he tries to sort this all out—he claimed he was attempting to get to me, before I could leave him. Wow...

  On yet another attempt to lunge at me by George of the I-don’t-know-what-love-or-no-means crazy bunch, I’d let out a startled squeak and ran behind the very understanding second officer that showed up on the scene, where I promptly remained and cowered, praying for safety. The very nice first officer rushed back and tackled George, and that’s when they’d cuffed him, carting him towards the backseat of the cop car.

  George yelled after me as he was dragged off, promising he'd come to me and how he would love me forever. It was all very strange and unsettling, putting it mildly.

  Daring a peek at him, I shuddered at the look in his eyes as they met mine.

  “I’ll come for you, my love! No one will keep us apart! No one! Ever!!” he swore fanatically.

  There was a scary promise in his words, echoing the sentiment in his eyes, as he pleaded and begged me to wait for him, rattling off a crazy crock of cock and bull, swearing he knew it was only a matter of time and I would come around. He was seriously thinking I'd take him back.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, the loony lothario started badly reciting Shakespeare, mangling and jumbling it into confusing nonsense. To top it all off, because all of that mess isn’t bad enough, he finished off his quick downward spiral by breaking out into a loud, rather awkward and off-key song on the praises of various attributes of my person—of which I shall not mention—and what he plans to do to them.

  Mortified, my hands slid over my face to hide my red, beyond embarrassed mug from everyone. "He's never acted like this before, I swear," I told the officer next to me quietly, shaking my head frantically, as if in denial of all of this, as he finished taking my statement.

  When his pen clicked and I finally looked up, he stared down at me with nothing short of sympathy. "Sometimes some people just... snap," he offered somberly, a sad, melancholy smile quirking his lips.

  It’ll be alright now, I tried to tell myself. Maybe George will even get the help he so obviously needs. It was enough to make me smile a little, and the officer offered me one in return, along with a quick there-there pat.

  George was still yelling weird Romeo and Juliet forever-together type sentiments, now at the top of his lungs, as they finished up. Speaking for a few moments before parting ways, shaking their heads at his antics, the officers hopped in their respective vehicles, and with a quick wave from the second officer, drove away.

  Wow... How did I not see the crazy? I mean, really, how did I not? I couldn’t wrap my head around that one.

  Gee, you sure know how to pick ‘em, Wilhelmina! Three years together and I just now notice how warped his little mind is? Not only is there something wrong with him, obviously, but I should probably have my head examined next, as well.

  So, here I am now, back to reality, thankfully, in the cabin I'd rented for our romantic trip—what a joke that's turned out to be—trying to have a happy holiday for one and, hopefully, give myself a little time to lick my wounds in private.

  It has been a rather blissfully silent three days, I reflected.

  Twisting the dial a smidgeon more, I found another radio station, this one with less static than the last one, and sipped my minty cocoa, savoring the flavor as the hot liquid helped warm me up.

  All of a sudden there was a clang, and I heard a banging noise outside my window. Frowning, I stilled, waiting to see if I could hear anything else.

  Nothing.

  Hmm...

  Must have been the wind? I hoped.

  Please don't be bears. And if so, please stay away, Mr. Bear. Gnawing at my lip worriedly as my eyes darted around, wide and alert, I pinched the thick bit of skin between my teeth until it hurt.

  When nothing else happened I tried to shrug it off and relax, tried to think of happier things. It took a few, but I eventually resumed my little shimmy and shake, humming along to a man quietly crooning to a woman about staying the night since it was so cold outside.

  Chapter Two

  I

  'd just finished putting a few more logs on the fire when the lights in the house flickered and a pop echoed throughout the room, the electricity shutting off, just like that.

  "Aw, crap." Jumping, I yelped as I was pitched into complete and total darkness. Well, maybe not complete darkness—there is the fire, after all, I thought to myself, glancing over at it. Dramatic much, Mina?

  Blowing out a long breath, I set my mug down carefully, scooting it in next to the radio, and felt my way to the kitchen. Once there I grabbed the emergency flashlight out of the kitchen junk drawer and clicked it on. Searching out my jacket, boots, and beanie, I prepared myself for a little unplanned trip outside.

  Let’s see how bad it is, shall we?

  Cautious, and maybe more than a little paranoid, I poked my head outside and had a little peek around. Unconvinced there wasn’t a massive bear just waiting to pounce, awoken from his winter slumber and waiting for someone to blame—namely me—I waited for a few minutes, eyes peeled and ear to the ground, looking and listening for any rustling bushes or angry animal noises.

  There was, in fact, nothing at all. It was dead quiet. I felt kind of silly and stupid, but marginally better.

  Coast looks clear, Captain.

  Assured it was relatively safe, I slipped out the back door and made my way to the side of the cabin.

  Thank you, Mr. Mortem, for giving me a run-through on fuse boxes for dummies before you took off—I’ll have to send him a thank you note later.

  Thinking back to what he’d said, I opened the box, frowning as I studied what lay inside.

  "This doesn't make any damn sense," I muttered, my fingertips hovering over the contents of the ugly box uncertainly without actually disturbing anything.

  Worried I might somehow make the issue worse, whatever that may be, I held back, unsure, wracking my brain. Well, it didn’t look like a fuse was blown, but this chunky part with the handle—the handle deal to pull to shut off the main power, as it had been speedily and briefly explained to me—between mutterings of spoiled someone or others and breaker panels—didn’t look right.

  Huh.

  Putting the piece like it was supposed to and pressing it into place, I stared at it for a long moment. I knew just about next to nothing about this kind of stuff, so this was all a bit out of my realm, but I wanted to say the old man had called it a... block...? Fuse block...? Or main fuse something or other...? Main fuse block? Uhm, I think? Geez, I didn’t know.

  Does it really matter, I had to stop and ask myself. I know what it does, who cares what the hell it’s called right this second. It looks like it’s back the way it’d been now, anyway. Hmm... Hopefully, it should be okay.

  Squinting as I hunched down in my jacket, flashlight held aloft as the wind blew a cold gust my way, I gave the doo-dah-ma-hicky, thing-a-ma-jiggies inside of the dingy grey box one last, long look, then shut it tight and started to head back towards the warmth of the cabin.

  “Well, guess I’ll see if I ‘fixed’ it, won�
�t I?” Otherwise, I knew a certain elderly gentleman who’d be hearing from me. Hopefully, if I was wrong about the power issue, he’d have pity and maybe, possibly, be able to help a gal out.

  As I was trekking back, I caught something out of the corner of my eye, a flash of movement, a hint of brown and... was that fur? Pausing, freezing on the spot in stunned panic as my heart dropped to my stomach, I barely had time to react as a big, brown mass came rushing towards me, full speed, flying at me out of nowhere.

  Gasping out a shocked breath, I dropped down, crouching, and screamed, covering my face and neck with my arms.

  It's a bear! Oh god! Oh god... Oh god... Please don't eat me! I'm too young to die! I’m gonna die!

  Thrown unceremoniously to the right as we made contact, I was rolled to my side, pushed on my back, and my hands were yanked up and over my head as I let out a short, terror-filled scream.

  Moments later a warm body was pressing against mine, hip to hip, groin to groin. It was the voice that fairly purred at me from above seconds later—not a snarl or the roar of an angry animal—that snapped me right out of it, striking me as hard as a well-aimed slap ever could.

  "Miss me, pumpkin?"

  Despite the shock I’d just received—any relief I might have felt fleeting and momentary as this new problem arose—my screaming resumed, increasing in strength and volume.

  "It's me, Willy. Quit screeching," George piped up in his I’m being reasonable tone, smiling down at me slightly.

  "You're insane! Get off! Get off! Get! Off! Of! Me!" I screeched, thrashing madly like a wild animal.

  Flailing about, I thrust my hips up, trying to dislodge him from his current position as he straddled my hips so familiarly. Bucking wildly against him, twisting from side to side, no matter what I did, I just couldn't move him.

  Oblivious, by choice or by lack of reason, George laced our fingers together, so I dug my nails into the knuckles of his hands. And still, he didn't react. At least, to my way of thinking, not how he should have. If anything, he looked kinda turned on. He’s sick. He’s beyond sick!