Hunter's Rise (32 page)

“Hey, some of the close-knit packs can sense each other’s
thoughts. It’s not really mind reading, but it’s pretty close.” He came up behind her, one arm sliding around her waist as he draped the other arm around her upper body.

Sylvia sighed and rested her head back against his shoulder. It should have felt stifling, to be held like that. Pinned back against his body. Instead she felt… wanted. Treasured. His lips brushed against her temple and he murmured, “You didn’t feed that heavily from me the other day. Have you fed well recently?”

“It’s been a few days. I’ll find somebody tonight before we—”

He lifted his hand, exposing his wrist. “I’m somebody.”

“You don’t need to feed me.” Even thinking about it had her fangs pulsing. Staring at his skin, at the faint tracery of veins underneath, she willed herself not to move, not to breathe. It would be so easy to get used to this…

“I like doing it. You need it. I kind of like taking care of you, when you let me.” His blond head lowered to her neck and he nuzzled her there, whispered, “Besides, it also makes me hotter than hell. Why don’t you make me hotter than hell, Syl?”

“Don’t call me Syl.” Still staring at his wrist, she tried to think of reasons
not
to do this. Other than how easy it would be to get used to it. It wouldn’t
hurt
him. Wolves healed too fast, and that included blood. She’d have to drain him half-dry before it would do him much damage, and vampires just didn’t need that much.

Slicking her tongue across her lips, she dipped her head, pressed her mouth to his wrist. She couldn’t think of one good, solid reason that wasn’t an excuse. It wouldn’t hurt him, she needed to feed… and he wanted to do it.

“You’re getting too easy to have around, Hunter,” she muttered, as she stroked her tongue across his skin.

Salty. Warm. Male.

A low, rough growl rolled through the air. Tension spiked. The arm he had wrapped around her waist stroked downward, resting on her hip. Kneading the flesh there, he nudged himself against her and said, “You’re the only person I’ve ever known who’s ever called me
easy
to have around.”

She laughed and then, forgetting about everything else, sank her teeth into his flesh.

H

E’D
fed vamps more times than he could recall.

It wasn’t his favorite thing to do, but he’d lived for more than a century. For close to nine decades, he’d served as a Hunter— years he’d spent with vamps. Vamps, just like weres, just like witches, could get hurt. When a vamp got hurt, the vamp had to feed. Although he was an ass of the highest degree, he wasn’t going to let a fellow Hunter suffer if he could help.

Up until Sylvia, feeding was generally just a responsibility… and on rare occasion, something he’d indulge in with a lover.

With Sylvia, though… he could come to crave it. It could become a need…

The feel of her tongue brushing against his flesh, just before her fangs pierced his skin. Then the pleasure—

Growling, he buried his face against her hair and rocked his hips against the scrap of silk that covered her butt. He’d stripped her jeans away when he’d put her to bed and now he was damn glad. Pushing his fingers inside her panties, he sought out the slick heat between her thighs. She stiffened and then sagged, her mouth still pulling on the wound at his wrist.

When her fangs pierced his skin a second time, he grunted and pulled his hand out from her panties, tearing at the silk until it shredded under his hands. “You…” She lifted her head.

“Don’t stop,” he muttered, catching sight of her flushed face in the mirror hanging across the room. “That feels almost as good as it did when I fucked you.”

“You tore my panties,” she muttered, lowering her head back to his wrist. She licked at the closing wounds like a cat.

“Yeah. I can buy you more. Do it again.” He nudged his wrist closer to her mouth as he used his foot to bump one of her ankles over, widening her stance.

“You want me to drain you dry or what?” She laughed, teasing his skin with the tip of one fang.

“You won’t.” He reached between them and tore at his zipper, at the button of his jeans, swearing when his fingers seemed to get too damned clumsy on him. Finally, he managed, and the cool kiss of air on his aching flesh was almost torture. Then it
was
torture as Sylvia continued to play with him, taunting the skin inside his wrist with her teeth and tongue.

“Witch,” he rasped.

It wasn’t until he pressed the head of his cock against her that she stopped toying with him. As he pierced the snug, wet heat of her sheath, she pierced him… driving her fangs deep as he drove his cock straight into her core. She shuddered while he fought against the howl building in his throat. Not here— fuck. Not here. One hand flexed, shifted and he swore as he saw the black flaring on the tips of his fingers.

He didn’t lose control like that. Not unless he felt like it. Sucking in a desperate breath of air, he grabbed the ragged bits of his control— waited until he thought he could move without shattering.

And then he started to rock, stroking her slowly. The slick wet tissues of her sheath gripped him, milked him. Sylvia twisted against him, rolling her hips backwards.

With a shudder, Sylvia pulled her mouth from his wrist and dropped her head back against his shoulder. The soft moan that fell from her lips made his heart race, and the look in her eyes had something deep inside him twisting almost painfully.

Damn it, she got to him. Got to him in ways he couldn’t even begin to explain.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, he rolled his hips against her bottom, listened as she moaned again. Still holding her gaze, he placed a hand on her belly, stroked it up until he cupped one breast in his hand, watching her face, watching as her lips parted, as her lashes fluttered down.

Her skin was silken-soft, warmed from his blood, from his touch. Her nipple pebbled as he brushed it lightly. He couldn’t get enough of her… the brief time they’d had in the dawn hours at his house hadn’t been enough. This wouldn’t be enough.

Eternity wasn’t enough.

He angled her chin around, lowered his head and took her mouth. She opened for him and he growled as she bit his lip. Even if they forgot about the rest of the world and stayed in here for the next year, it wouldn’t be enough.

But all they had, for now, was this…

T

OO
much. She felt surrounded by him, flooded by him. His hands raced over her body as he moved inside her with small, rocking motions— just enough to push her right to the edge of climax… and keep her hovering there. Too much. On the knife’s edge of pain and pleasure. It was too much.

Twisting her hips, she tried to take it deeper, faster. Toronto growled in her ear, a wordless order. And she did it again. Flooded with the taste of him, surrounded by the feel of him, it was
too much—

Then he moved, and they were on the floor. Head spinning, she slammed her hands down to brace herself as he held her hips in his hands and reared back, driving into her with bruising, glorious force, and she cried out, her eyes closing.

Again, again— his cock throbbed, swelled inside her, the head stroking over sensitized nerves and then he slid his hand around, pressed the tip of his finger to her clit.

She shattered, falling to pieces.

The only thing that kept her from completely losing her mind was the realization that he was falling with her— he was with her. A low, eerie noise, something caught between a howl and a growl ripped through the room as he stiffened.

Dark, hot bursts of color exploded before her eyes as he fell forward, catching himself just before he would have crushed her body into the ground.

Stunned, devastated, she shook in his arms and he held her. Twisting around, she slid her arms around him and held him tight. Against her cheek, she could feel the racing of his heart.

Nothing in her life had ever felt like this. Sylvia hadn’t even realized it was possible to feel like this.

It terrified her.

C

AREFULLY
, she peeled away the cheese and then swiped her finger through the tomato sauce. With a blissful sigh, Sylvia popped it into her mouth and closed her eyes.

Toronto eyed her as he chewed his way through his eighth piece. “You know, I can figure out another way for you to try that.”

“Pervert.” Wrinkling her nose at him, she sighed. “That’s about all I can do anyway. Maybe another taste in an hour or so before we leave.”

“No can do.” He finished his piece and grabbed another. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

Sylvia snorted. “Sorry, blondie. You need to check the time. I can’t leave for another hour, at the earliest.”

“Yeah, you can. I had a van brought in. Your bike is in storage back at my place by now.”

Narrowing her eyes, she echoed, “Storage?”

“Yeah.” He rocked back on the rear legs of the chair, holding a half-eaten slice and watching her with a closed expression. “We’re wasting time, only being able to move half the day. Nobody drove the bike. You have my word on it. It was loaded into a truck, taken to my place and left there. We’ve got a van where you can sleep in the back. I only need a couple of hours of sleep every few days, and if I have to, I can go a week. Having to stop every time the sun breaks the horizon is slowing us down and we still have another eight hours of driving ahead of us, not to mention I don’t know how long it will take to pin this bastard in his lair once we get there.”

He paused, took another bite of pizza as Sylvia digested all of the information.

Clenching her jaw, she said, “And just where is
here
? You still haven’t told me that.”

“North. We’ve got more driving to do still.”

“North,” she muttered. Hell,
that
was descriptive. She was two seconds away from demanding a more definitive answer from him, but she’d be snapping at him over the wrong thing. She’d rather fight with him over…

Hell. He made sense. Glaring at him with anger simmering inside her, she wished she could just tear into him, but he fucking made sense.

If he’d been an asshole about it and just barked at her instead of being
sensible
, she could have torn a strip off his hide.

“You had no right to move my bike without asking.”

“True.” He shrugged. “But I was trying to speed things along. I figured your main interest was in finding Pulaski… right?”

Shit. How did she answer that? Tell him that she was paranoid about who touched her baby? Make it seem like that was more important than finding Pulaski? It was just a motorcycle. She had four others, and it wasn’t likely anything would even happen to it.

Hell, it wasn’t even
just
about the bike. It was the way he was… moving in on her. The way it felt almost natural to be working with him. The way it felt almost natural to
be
with him. It was the way he terrified her when he held her, because it felt so damn right, so damn natural and it was going to leave a giant hole inside her when it ended. And it would end… how could it not?

He was a Hunter. She was a mercenary. They didn’t mix.

Hell. She couldn’t think about this now. She’d think about other shit. Stupid shit. His high-handed shit. Anything but the way it was going to hurt when he left. When she left. Whichever it came to be.

“Just don’t make a habit of this,” she muttered, turning away from him and storming into the shower. She was going to have to wash up using the hotel’s crap, she thought, seizing on anything to get worked up over. She hated hotel brands—

And all of that irritation deflated when she saw the black toiletry case from her bike sitting on the counter.

She really, really wished he’d go back to being the thoughtless, arrogant asshole he was supposed to be. Her life would be so much easier that way. It was going to be a bitch
as it was to walk away from him already. But if he kept doing nice things like this, and if he kept being so reasonable about other things, and so fucking good in bed…

And then there was the way he’d gotten so fucking pissed when she’d told him what had happened to her. When he’d said he couldn’t kill whatever had hurt her if she didn’t tell him… a weird thing to get the warm fuzzies about, but… hell. Everything about him got to her.

And she had a feeling it was too late to stop things— she was already too wrapped up in him. This was going to end in heartbreak, she realized. She’d gone all this time with having her heart broken.

Then some cocky, smart-ass werewolf Boy Scout came along and blew that straight to hell.

Slamming the door shut, she leaned back against it and covered her face with her hands.

Damn it.

T

ORONTO
listened as the door slammed, tried not to let it get to him.