Hunter's Prey: Bloodhounds, Book 2 (14 page)

“Lucky you,” she teased, “to have ever had any in the first place.”

His arm snaked around her waist and tugged, inching her across the sheets toward him. “Not enough. Funny, how happy people are to see me now that they think they might need me.”

“Better that than the alternative, yes?”

“Mmm. Maybe not, if I’m expected to ignore how they scorn me once the danger’s past.”

And they would, just as they’d scorned her and the other whores when they had no need of physical release. “I haven’t told you how I came to Iron Creek, have I?”

He brushed his hand along her hip before settling just below her ribcage, his fingers spread wide. “Tell me.”

Somehow, lying in his arms made the memory less painful. “I grew up on a farm not far from here.”

“A farm girl?” His breath stirred her hair as he nuzzled closer. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“Few would.” She shivered. “My mother died when I was very young, and my father remarried soon after. When he died, my stepmother figured it was best for me to leave. So I did.”

Hunter eased closer, wrapping around her as if reacting to her trembling. His skin blazed, far hotter than any man’s would have, the heat of a bloodhound curled protectively around her. “Where did you go?”

“I was fourteen. I didn’t know where to go.” Impossible to explain the overwhelming helplessness. She’d had options, but so few appealing ones. “I made my way to Iron Creek, planning to take the train…somewhere. Miss Featherstone found me at the depot.”

He stroked his thumb along her side and rumbled an encouraging noise. “Not the one who owned the brothel before your friend.” He sounded sure.

“No. She’d worked in Savannah before the War.” In her mind’s eye, Ophelia could still see the kohl-lined wrinkles that appeared when the old woman had smiled. “Miss Featherstone was retired. She took me in and taught me…everything. And when I was old enough, I made her a very rich woman.”

“And did she allow you to become a rich woman as well?”

“I wanted for nothing,” she assured him. “And now, yes. I’m quite wealthy.”

“Off of men like I used to be.” He sighed and settled her more snugly against his shoulder before resting his chin on the top of her head. “I don’t know what you know. If I told you anything at all, during the new moon.”

How terrifying that must have been for him—already scared of the bestial pull inside him, and then to have it all be a blur. “You told me your name. Matthew.”

“Matthew Underwood,” he murmured. “Somewhere back East, my younger brother is celebrating his good fortune at becoming the new heir to the Underwood riches.”

She hesitated to tell him the rest. “You seemed worried that I might wish you were that man again. I don’t, you know. Not for my sake.”

Oddly, he chuckled. “When I’m feeling beastly, I worry that you’ll want a civilized man. When my head’s on straight, I worry that you wouldn’t have cared much for Matthew Underwood. He was a rich, spoiled fool.”

Ophelia slid one leg over his hips. “You’re right. I like you much better.”

“No longer rich or spoiled, but still a fool?”

“Hush.” She sat up on top of him, then leaned down to press a kiss to his chin. “You handled Emmett’s arrival very deftly, I must say.”

“Did I?” He lifted his hands to her hips. “He said something just now, something I should have deduced on my own. But it gave me a scrap of hope.”

“What’s that?”

“That the Guild picks broken men to become bloodhounds.” Turning his head, he kissed her cheekbone. “I came to this life hard, but I have my own advantages. I was passably clever, for a drunken rake.”

No, anything that might have broken him had been part and parcel of his transformation, not of his life before. And he’d survived that time in his cage with his mind intact. “Does that mean you feel better about taking on your duties here?”

He smiled against her cheek. “Someone has to be the thinker. Sure as hell isn’t gonna be Archer.”

She had to laugh. “No, not likely.”

Hunter fisted his hands in her nightgown, coaxing it up a few inches. “Still don’t know who I’m going to be, not really, but I know what I’ll be without you.”

Heat and anticipation robbed her of her breath. “What’s that?”

“Nothing.” He moved his mouth to hover just above her ear. “I know what the mating means now. I’m yours, for as long as you have breath. If you don’t want to be tied to me, you’d best run now. I plan to make you mine, Ophelia, and I don’t trust myself to play fair.”

Not long ago, he’d been hesitant, so scared of hurting her that he’d held back. That hesitation had vanished. Now, he sounded the way he had during the new moon—certain. Sure.

She closed her eyes with a grateful moan. “What’s your definition of playing dirty?”

He bit her earlobe and laughed, low and dark and full of promise. Another tug, and he had her nightgown around her hips. “Ride me, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“I think I have my answer.” But she moved anyway, shifting her hips until her cunt rubbed against his erection. The intimate contact splintered through her, left her shuddering.

“Like that.” He dragged at her gown, pulling it higher. “Take this off.”

It was nothing less than a command. She dragged the silk over her head and trailed it across his chest before tossing it off the side of the bed. “Yes, sir.”

Another laugh, and he landed a teasing slap to her hip before stroking his fingers up the center of her body. “Maybe I showed you more of Matthew Underwood than I realized.”

“You didn’t seem to have any doubts about what you liked.” She rocked against him. “Or any compunction about asking for it.”

“Demanding it?” He cupped her breast and caught her nipple between two fingers, squeezing with a low growl. “Maybe that’s the only thing that hasn’t changed. I’m a domineering bastard in bed.”

She arched into his touch and bit her lip to hold back a whimper. “I’m fine with it, in case you were wondering.”

“I was working my way around to asking.” He planted his other hand at the small of her back. “Rub that sweet clit against me, darling. Come on my cock before you come around it.”

Ophelia gasped and laughed through her delight. “You’re bad—but so am I.”

“I fucking well hope so.” With another growl, he curled a hand around the back of her neck and dragged her body to his, claiming her mouth with brutal directness.

He licked her tongue and sank his teeth into her lower lip. Ophelia braced her hands on his shoulders and circled her hips, grinding against him, searching for just the right amount of slick pressure and heat. Hunter encouraged her with a hand spread wide across her back, the other tangling in her hair to pull her head to one side.

In the next moment, she felt his lips on her throat. “Tell me I can mark you again. On purpose this time.”

“
Yes.
” Acquiescence or plea, she didn’t know. “Hunter.”

His tongue touched her first. A teasing swipe across her pulse and then his lips, feathering over her skin before retreating only to return for another soft brush. She was trapped between that too-gentle caress and the hard press of his cock against her, and she moaned her frustration. Tried to wiggle and shift enough to take him inside her.

“Bad girl.” The hand at her back turned to iron, holding her in place as he closed his teeth on her throat.

She barely heard the cry through the buzzing in her ears, much less recognized it as her own. Ecstasy—she’d experienced plenty of it in her time, even plenty with him, but nothing like this. The bite of his teeth drew the wave higher. One more sharp jerk against him and it crested, crashing through her in a glorious haze of pleasure.

Her back hit the mattress, and he was over her, huge and looming. Moonlight cut across his face, painting his features silver. He smiled at her even as she shuddered, and then his smile melted away, replaced by hunger. Need.

Strong fingers landed on her thighs and spread them wide. Hunter settled between them, took his cock in one hand and teased the head against her cunt. “Is this what you want?”

She’d already said yes—with word and deed—so he had to need something more. “Please. I’ll beg.”

“Not this time.” A promise, a whispered caress, and all the warning she got before he pushed into her.

He drove deep, and she shivered helplessly beneath him. “Christ, yes. Hunter, I—” All possibility of speaking fled as he cupped his hands under her thighs and urged her knees up toward her chest.

“You what?” He ground deeper, circling his hips. When his hands dropped to the bed, it left her legs hooked over his arms, spread helplessly wide. “You want me?”

“Yes.” She barely managed to choke out the word as need cinched tight around her.

“This is playing dirty, darling.” He withdrew only to surge back, thrusting hard enough to inch her up the bed. “I’ll fuck you every way man’s invented and a few God hoped we’d never figure out. Anything to make you beg for more.”

She bit her lip until it bled, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough to hold back her cries. “Everyone will hear.”

“Do you care?”

She should have, but all that mattered at the moment was the two of them. “No.”

“Then fuck ’em.” He slid his hands higher, until her knees rested over his shoulders and he’d buried his fingers in her hair. He covered her completely, surrounded her and contained her. There was nothing withdrawn or careful about the way he touched her now, just possessive hunger, a need borne out by the unsteady strength of his next thrust. “Take me.”

She had no leverage to move, to meet his thrusts, so she reached up and braced her hands on the carved wooden headboard. It was enough to keep her from sliding away and hold her steady for every plunge.

Impossible pleasure. Her breath came in rough pants that gave way to screams as he lifted her hips just a little more. The first scream seemed to shatter his self-control, and he gave his pleasure voice in a snarling growl as he focused his quick, hard thrusts on the spot threatening to send her flying apart.

“Hunter!” She was beyond control, beyond anything as simply defined as
release
. Familiar heat and something more, a possession and belonging that tied them together as surely as any bindings.

“Again,” he ordered, his voice edged with madness. “Need more. Need
me
.”

“I do,” she gasped. Her hands clenched convulsively, digging furrows into the wood above her head. There was nothing more to give, nothing—

And then she came again, a sudden, intense seizing that left her fighting for air, with no breath left even to scream. Her body clamped tight around his, so tight she could feel every pulse as he gave in to his own roar of release and buried himself deep as he shook above her.

Dazed, Ophelia wrapped her arms around his neck. When he started to pull away, she tightened them. “Don’t. Not yet.”

“Shh.” Hunter lifted one hand to loosen her grip, but only retreated far enough to let her legs slip to the bed. Then he returned, settling in the cradle of her hips as he smoothed her hair back from her brow with careful fingers. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

She forced her eyes open and focused on his face. “Like I never want to move from this spot.”

“All right with me.” With her hair brushed away, he eased one hand under her to cradle the back of her head. “You feel like you’re mine.”

“I know.” She studied his features in the dim moonlight. “The mating—it’s a physical need. But it’s not all I want. I should tell you that.”

His expression didn’t change, except for a slight softening of his lips. The first hint of a smile, maybe, one held back. “That’s a relief to hear, since I’m planning to make you fall in love with me.”

He touched her with such tenderness, and the emotion echoed through her. “Well, you have quite the running start, darling.”

“Good.” He nuzzled his way to her throat and brushed a kiss to her pulse. “We’ve got time to get there. All the time in the world.”

Now that they were no longer limited to the extremes of the moon, she felt more confident agreeing with him. “All the time in the world.”

Tobias was already in the stable when Hunter returned from his patrol the next night. After another long day of demanding townsfolk and another endless evening enduring the desperate stink of their fear and false gratitude, the prospect of exchanging verbal punches seemed like fun.

He swung off his mount and grinned at the other bloodhound. “Expected you’d be up to your ears in booze and Sylvie’s girls by now.”

Tobias smirked. “And I expected you to be up to your—well, whatever it was that had your lady screaming last night.”

A civilized sort of man might have felt a shred of embarrassment, which he supposed was proof enough that Matthew Underwood was well and truly gone. “Which time?”

“Now you’re just bragging. Some of us suffered a cold, lonely night in the sheriff’s office, you know.”

“Somehow I doubt you heard any screaming from the sheriff’s office.”

Tobias shook his head as he continued brushing his horse. “I stopped by to check in with Emmett and have a drink. I must have caught the early show.”

Hunter lifted the saddle from his mount. “Is he all right? Seemed a bit…tired last night.”

“Seemed a bit rattled, you mean. With what happened to Nate, can you blame him?”

“No, I reckon not. I suppose if the Guild found out, they’d take us both apart. Nate and me, since my blood’s what did it.” It was impossible to keep the edge from the words. The silent question.

But Tobias only shrugged. “Guild’s got bigger problems, if you ask me. Which you better not.”

It wasn’t the first hint of uneasy feelings, but it was the most blatant. Even Emmett had done little more than hint, and if he’d told Nathaniel more, the older man had kept his counsel. “Are you and Emmett among those bigger problems? Or is that something else I’d best not ask?”

“I wouldn’t have any earthly idea what you’re talking about,” Tobias answered.

Interesting. “If you don’t watch your step, someone might start to suspect you’ve got brains behind your pretty face.”

He grinned. “Hasn’t happened yet.”