Twilight Hunter

for a brief second she opened her mouth, willing to let her words flow freely, but she quickly snapped her jaw shut. As much as she wanted to tell him the truth, there was no point. Knowing her luck, it would only make things worse.

His hand slid onto her lower back with care, pulling her from her thoughts.

Shit. She didn’t want him to let go. There was no doubt about it—her body wanted him, needed him as badly as she needed air, water, food. And some part of her heart did, too.

But he didn’t want her.

He doesn’t want me.

She looked away and repeated the mantra in her head. He’d flat out told her he didn’t want her, but apparently her libido and, especially, her heart needed more convincing. She would look like a damn fool if she said anything to try to change his mind.

A small grin spread across his lips. “You know...I hate to admit it, but this isn’t so bad.”

She looked up to find him staring down at her, and it seemed as if a fire ignited behind his eyes.

“Especially not when it’s with you.”

His steps slowed, and for several long moments they lingered a hairsbreadth away from moving closer. His intense emerald gaze locked on hers. Handling their situation just wasn’t possible. She couldn’t let this continue.

She pulled away from him. “We should get back to shifting.”

She turned away and folded her arms over her chest, as she tried to hold herself together. If she didn’t stop now, she wouldn’t be able to control herself; she would want him too much to resist. Having him so close but being unable to have him was pure torture. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could take it.

* * *

“I’VE NEVER TORTURED a member of the Fae before, though I’m very excited to play with these iron weapons. It’s fun to experiment.” Robert examined the hot iron poker. “I think this needs more heat, don’t you agree?” He placed the poker tip back into the inferno he’d built. “I’ll get this all warmed up for you.”

The glowing orange metal pulsated in the dim light of the warehouse. The pathetic woman closed her eyelids.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded.

He towered over her as she lay chained to the warehouse floor. The iron shackles around her wrists and ankles slowly peeled away her skin as she shied away from their scalding touch. Oh, how sweet this torture session had been. One of his best yet.

“Now tell me, what is a faerie doing with a pack of werewolves?”

She bit her lower lip.

“I said, what are you doing with the werewolves?”

When she still didn’t respond, he carefully nestled the poker against the sensitive skin of her stomach. She writhed as the iron burned another bloody hole into her flesh. The sounds of her screams echoed off the warehouse walls. He savored the sight of the hot iron eating away at her body, the skin peeling back in wavy curls.

He let out a low, feral growl. “Answer my question.”

Gasping for air, she stammered to reply. “I’m just an affiliate. I’m the only faerie in the area, so Frankie let me join the pack to be around other supernaturals.”

A devilish grin spread across his face as he twirled the poker in his hands. “That’s better.”

She gritted her teeth and stared at the weapon, shivering. Her terror got him off. He let the blazing iron linger over her, promising repeated pain if she didn’t cooperate.

He reexamined the tip of the poker. A small piece of burned flesh remained. Perfect. This was coming along nicely. He stoked the fire. “So you know Frankie personally, yet she hasn’t come after you?”

Despite the shackles holding her in place, her hands clenched into fists. He grinned. He would make sure every ounce of fight she had in her was gone before he was through with her.

“Over twenty-four hours, yet she still isn’t here. You must not be very important to her.”

“You’re lucky Frankie isn’t here. She’d rip you to pieces.”

He smiled. “I beg to differ. The last time the bitch and I met, I gave her a lovely beating.”

“You’re a sick freak.”

He ignored her comment as he fiddled with the poker, admiring the glowing end as if it were a rare piece of art. “I guess she hasn’t gotten my message. Perhaps I’ll have to go with a more direct route. If Frankie won’t come for you, I may have to bring her here myself.”

Robert set down the poker and walked toward the exit.

“What do you want with her anyway?” she yelled.

As he reached the door, he turned and grinned. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m not after your packmaster.” He pushed open the exit door. “I want the hunter who’s protecting her.”

* * *

DAVID CHARGED THROUGH the doors of K9’s, ignoring the pain in his leg as his heart pounded in his chest. Despite the cold, sweat poured down his back from the heat of his rage.

Frankie was standing on the platform in the middle of the room, Jace crouching beside her like he was some sort of animal.

“What the hell did you do?” David demanded as he reached the edge of the stage.

Jace looked toward him. “David, what’s up? Are—”

David turned on Frankie as he fought for control. “What did you do? Where is she?”

Jace stood and grabbed David’s shoulder. “Whoa, David. Back off. Where’s who?”

David snarled, a noise that seemed far too animal to belong to him. “Maybe you’d know if you answered your phone. Allsun’s missing, and it’s your fucking fault.” He jabbed a finger at Frankie.

Her eyes widened. “Allsun O’Hare?”

David glared. The anger coursing through him was white-hot. He would murder that bastard Robert. He would tear him limb from limb. He would gouge out Robert’s eyes with his thumbs for even looking at her.

“What happened?” Frankie’s jaw fell open.

“That’s what I want to know.” David stepped toward her. “Why was there a message to you on the wall of her demolished apartment—written in blood?”

All the color drained from Frankie’s face until her skin looked ashen. “I don’t know where she is, David. I had nothing to do with this.”

“I swear, if I find out you caused this, I’ll force you to shift and then skin you for your—”

“David!” Jace grabbed him by the front of his jacket. “Frankie’s been with me the whole time. She didn’t do this. It’s Robert, and you know it. It’s Robert, man. It’s not Frankie’s fault.”

David panted hard, each breath so heavy it strained the leather of his jacket.

“We’ll get her back, David,” Jace promised.

“I’ll call Alejandro. I’ll have him gather the pack. We need to select who’ll go after her—our best fighters. And we’ll need to find out where she’s been taken,” Frankie said. She met David’s eyes. “We will find her, David. Faerie or not, she’s been one of us for a long time.”

“I will not wait around while you decide who is going to save her,” David growled, turning his anger on Jace. He stared down into his fellow hunter’s face. “If it wasn’t for you and your damn werewolf shit, I could go save her myself. But now look at me!” he yelled. “Between my fucking leg and the fact that Damon’s marked us both as traitors, I can’t even fucking save the woman I love, all because I had to try and help your sorry ass.”

If Jace were angry, he didn’t show it. He stepped back, though he clearly wasn’t intimidated. “I know. I shouldn’t have drawn anyone else into this, and I never should have let you fight my battles for me. It’s my fault your leg is fucked to hell and back, and I’d take it back if I could, but I can’t. I promise you I will save her, David. I swear it.” He met David’s gaze head on.

David snarled. “That’s not good enough. We have to do something now. Whether you like it or not, I will not sit around while he has her.”

He turned his back on Jace and began to walk away.

“David, if you go after her now, you’ll get her killed,” Jace said.