Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

MERCY

M ercy stirred from sleep; her mind thick with the remnants of a dream that clung to her like a fog. The dream had been the same as the night before, vivid and unsettling in its intensity. Images of Hunter—his touch, his voice, his heat—flooded her senses. Her skin still tingled from the phantom sensation of his hands on her body, the way he had looked at her with that dark, smoldering gaze.

The pounding in her head pulled her back to reality, and it took her a moment to realize it wasn't just her mind playing tricks on her. Someone was knocking—no, pounding—on her door. The noise echoed through her small cottage, rattling her already scattered nerves.

With a groan, she sat up, rubbing her temples as she tried to shake off the last vestiges of the dream. Her muscles ached from the tension, and she stretched her arms over her head, feeling the satisfying crack of her spine as she worked out the kinks. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood, tugging her thin robe back into place as she padded toward the door.

As she pulled it open, the sight of Hunter leaning casually against the door frame greeted her. His dark eyes glittered with amusement, and his lips curled into a knowing grin, as if he could read her thoughts—as if he knew exactly what she had been dreaming about.

"Good morning, Mercy," he drawled, his voice low and rich like velvet sliding across her skin. "What took you so long? I've been knocking for ages."

Mercy's stomach tightened involuntarily at the sound of his voice, and she cursed herself for the heat that immediately flooded her veins as she clutched the top of her robe more closely together. Residual embarrassment from her dreams hit her hard, making her more irritable than usual.

Turning her robe loose, she crossed her arms, leaning against the door with a scowl. "Maybe I was busy, Hunter. Or maybe I just didn't want to open the door for you."

Hunter's eyes darkened with amusement, and he pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer, his presence filling the doorway. "Enjoying a dream or perhaps fantasizing?" he teased, his tone laced with suggestiveness. "About me, I hope. I know your image fills my thoughts these days. I remember falling through the sky with you clutched in my talons."

"You almost got us killed," she snarled, but her breath caught in her throat.

"Hardly," he snorted. "I was in control the entire time, but I suspect your dreams these days are far more visceral."

He couldn't possibly know—could he?

Mercy's cheeks flushed despite her best efforts to keep her emotions in check, and she was instantly on the defensive. "In your dreams, Hunter," she snapped, though the words came out weaker than she intended.

He grinned, that devilish smile making her want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. "Oh, I don't think it's just in my dreams, Mercy. I have a feeling you've been thinking about me, too."

Her heart pounded in her chest, the tension between them thick enough to cut. She wanted to deny it, to tell him he was dead wrong, but the way he looked at her—like he could see right through her facade—made it hard to form words. Her mouth went dry, and the embarrassment of being caught in such a vulnerable position made her blood boil.

"Get over yourself," she said, stepping back to let him in without thinking. But the moment she moved, she realized her mistake.

Hunter didn't step forward. His dark eyes glittered with humor, and he folded his arms across his broad chest. "Nice try, but you know the rules. I can't come in unless you invite me."

Mercy froze, her anger and frustration boiling over. Of course. Vampires couldn't enter unless they were invited. And here she was, practically begging him to come in just because she was flustered. Well, if he thought she was going to make this easy for him, he had another think coming.

A slow, wicked idea formed in her mind, and she straightened her posture, tilting her chin up as she locked eyes with him. "You're right," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "You can't come in."

Hunter arched a brow, clearly intrigued by her sudden change in demeanor. "What are you up to, Mercy?"

Without answering, she stepped back into the living room, her hands moving to the sash at the waist of her robe. Untying it, she let the robe fall open before shrugging out of it and letting it drop carelessly to the floor, leaving her in nothing but bare skin. Hunter's gaze sharpened, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the sight of her.

He shifted his weight but made no move to enter, his expression strained as his hands curled tightly into fists at his sides. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I know exactly what I'm doing… teasing you," she replied. The cool air kissed her skin, but she was too focused on the growing tension between them to care. Hunter's jaw tightened, and his eyes raked over her body, hunger burning in his gaze.

"You know," she said, her voice sultry, "I thought vampires were supposed to have all the power. But it looks like I have the upper hand here."

Hunter's nostrils flared, and she could practically see the war going on inside him. He wanted her—he was practically vibrating with the need to touch her—but he couldn't. Not without her invitation to enter her home. She remembered his comment about consent from her dreams, but if he couldn't touch her, he couldn't very well claim or bite her.

"You think this is funny, don't you?" he growled, his voice rough with restrained need. "Taunting me like this?"

Mercy shrugged, her lips curving into a sly smile. "I suppose I shouldn't, but I do. Because no matter how much you want me right now, you can't have me. So, I hope you're enjoying the show because that's as much as you'll ever get."

Hunter's eyes blazed with frustration and desire, his fists clenching and unclenching as he fought to control himself. He took a step forward, stopping just short of the threshold. "You're playing with fire, Mercy."

"Hmm. That would be unfortunate for you, wouldn't it? After all, vampires can be killed with fire, can't they?" she replied, her heart racing with exhilaration. She wasn't entirely sure why she was doing this—why she was pushing him so hard—but the look on his face, the power she had over him in that moment, sent a thrill through her.

Satisfied with her victory, she bent to pick up her robe, taking her time, giving him a long, lingering view of her naked body before she straightened. "I think we're done here."

She moved to close the door, but before she could, Hunter's hand shot out, catching it before it could slam shut. "Coward," he muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

Mercy froze, her hand on the doorknob, the word hitting her like a slap. Slowly, she turned back to him, her eyes blazing with anger. "What did you just call me?"

"I called you a coward," Hunter said, his voice even, though there was a sharp edge of anger behind it. He leaned forward, his face inches from hers, the tension between them crackling like electricity. "You're scared, Mercy. You're afraid of what you feel, of what's happening between us. So, you're hiding behind these games. But it won't work."

She bristled, her pride rearing its head. "I'm not afraid of anything."

Hunter's lips curved into a dangerous smile, his eyes locking onto hers. "Oh, I think you are. You're terrified of me, of us, because you know this isn't just some fleeting attraction. You know there's something real here, and that scares the hell out of you."

Mercy's pulse quickened, her anger battling with the undeniable truth in his words. She hated how he could see right through her, hated how his proximity made her heart race. She shoved at his chest, but he barely moved, his gaze never leaving hers. "I'm not scared of you."

"Prove it," he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "Invite me in, Mercy. Let me show you just how much you're not afraid."

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she was tempted—tempted to give in, to let him in, to feel the heat of his body against hers. But her pride wouldn't let her.

Instead, she shot him a defiant glare. "You'll never get that satisfaction—not from me, anyway."

Hunter's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around her wrist in a firm but gentle grip. "I don't need your invitation to do this," he said, his voice dark and dangerous. He tugged her forward, pulling her out of the house and into his arms, his body hard and unyielding against hers. "I can drag you out here any time I want. If I can reach you, I can have you."

Her heart hammered in her chest, her skin buzzing with the proximity of his body. She knew he wasn't lying—he could easily overpower her if he wanted to. The thought sent a jolt of adrenaline and desire through her, making her dizzy with conflicting emotions.

But before either of them could move, their phones rang simultaneously, cutting through the thick tension. The sound was jarring, pulling them both back to reality.

Mercy blinked, her thoughts still spinning as she stepped back into her home, picking up her phone and moving away from the door. It was Adriana.

As she stepped away, Hunter's hand went to his pocket for his own phone.

"What?" Mercy snapped into the phone, still rattled from the intensity of the moment.

"Mercy, it's Adriana," came the calm, but urgent voice on the other end. "The fae-shifter has awakened. She's… well, let's just say she's not exactly in a good mood. I need you to come to the abbey. Now."

Mercy's heart sank. She had known the fae would eventually wake, but she had hoped she'd have another day or two to continue with her research. Her breath hitched as she heard Adriana's voice on the other end of the line, her mind still buzzing from her heated confrontation with Hunter. She forced herself to focus, knowing that whatever Adriana had to say was important.

Adriana continued "She's awake, Mercy, and she's causing chaos. It's like she doesn't know where she is, or even who she is. We're trying to contain the situation, but we need you to get to the abbey as fast as you can."

Mercy's heart clenched, the tension of the moment with Hunter fading as the gravity of the situation set in. "I'll be there soon," she replied quickly before hanging up.

As she lowered her phone, she saw Hunter still holding his to his ear, his expression darkening by the second. His gaze met hers, and she didn't need to ask—she knew he had received the same message, probably from Colby.

"Colby," Hunter said into the phone, his voice clipped. "I'm on my way."

He ended the call, his brow furrowed with a mix of frustration and concern. "The fae-shifter's awake. She's losing control."

Mercy nodded, feeling the knot of anxiety tightening in her chest. "Adriana just told me. We need to get to the abbey."

For a moment, the sexual tension that had been crackling between them was forgotten, replaced by a shared sense of urgency. Hunter's earlier arrogance was gone, replaced by the same determination that mirrored Mercy's own. Whatever was happening at the abbey, they were both needed there—and they had to set aside their personal issues, at least for now.

Mercy closed the door and dressed quickly. Opening it again, she stepped outside and didn't wait for an invitation; she moved past Hunter toward her Range Rover. Her mind raced with questions—why was the fae-shifter in such a state? Was she dangerous? And how much magic had she retained after the ritual?

Hunter fell into step beside her as she moved toward their parked vehicle his usual swagger replaced by a grim focus. They didn't speak as they stepped off the porch and walked down the stone path, the thick tension between them shifting into something different—something more intense. It wasn't just about their attraction anymore. The stakes were higher now.

The early morning light cast long shadows across the cliffs, the air still crisp and cool. She could feel Hunter's presence at her side, his energy a constant, buzzing force that she couldn't ignore.

They reached their vehicles, and Mercy hesitated for a split second. She glanced at Hunter, her mind flashing back to their heated exchange only moments before. Her body still hummed with the memory of his touch, the way he had looked at her like he could devour her whole. But now wasn't the time to dwell on that.

"Get in," she said, her tone sharper than she intended, but she couldn't help it. The tension between them was too much, and the last thing she needed was for him to think she was still rattled.

Hunter smirked, though the heat in his gaze had dimmed. "You're driving?"

"Obviously," Mercy replied, rolling her eyes as she climbed into the driver's seat.

Hunter slid into the passenger seat without another word, and Mercy started the engine, her fingers gripping the wheel a little too tightly. The Range Rover roared to life, and within seconds, they were speeding down the narrow road toward the abbey.

The silence in the vehicle was thick, but not awkward. It was filled with unspoken thoughts, questions neither of them dared to voice. Mercy kept her eyes on the road, but she was acutely aware of Hunter beside her—of the way his presence filled the space, his energy thrumming with barely contained frustration.

As they drove, Mercy's mind wandered back to the fae-shifter. She had never encountered anyone like her before—fae were rare enough as it was, but a fae-shifter? It was practically unheard of. And now that she was awake, Mercy had no idea what to expect. The fae's power was legendary, and if the fae-shifter was disoriented or frightened, that power could be catastrophic.

Hunter broke the silence first. "Do you think she's dangerous?"

Mercy's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "I don't know. Fae are… unpredictable. If she's confused or scared, she could lash out. We have no idea what kind of magic she's capable of."

Hunter nodded, his gaze hardening as he stared out the window. "Colby said they're doing everything they can to contain her, but we both know how that goes."

Mercy's stomach twisted. Containing a fae was no small feat, and if the shifters at the abbey were struggling, that meant things were already worse than she had anticipated. "We'll deal with it when we get there," she said, her voice firm. "But we need to be careful. If she's powerful enough, she could tear through anyone who tries to stop her."

"If she's still dangerous, how much power did she possess initially?"

"Given the condition you found her in, I'd say a great deal. Mind you, she's had some time to recuperate, my guess is they picked her because of the depth of her power."

Hunter didn't respond immediately; his jaw clenched in thought. After a beat, he glanced at her, his voice soft but filled with the same tension that had been simmering between them all morning. "Are we going to talk about what just happened between us?"

Mercy's heart skipped a beat, but she kept her eyes on the road, refusing to look at him. "No."

Hunter let out a frustrated sigh, but he didn't press the issue. "Fine. But we're not done with this, Mercy. Not by a long shot."

Her pulse quickened, but she didn't respond. There wasn't time to unpack the tangled mess of emotions that had been building between them. They had bigger problems to deal with.

The abbey loomed in the distance, its ancient stone walls standing tall against the horizon. Mercy's chest tightened as they drew closer, her mind already racing through the possibilities of what awaited them. The fae-shifter had awakened, and chaos had followed. Whatever had happened to her during the ritual had clearly left its mark, and now they had to figure out how to handle it—without anyone getting hurt.

As they pulled into the courtyard, Mercy's heart raced as she saw vines and brambles creeping up the wall in one place. A small crowd had gathered, a mix of shifters, witches, and a few other supernaturals from the abbey, all murmuring among themselves, their faces tight with tension. The air crackled with energy, the lingering remnants of fae magic hanging heavy over the abbey.

Hunter was out of the car before she had fully stopped, his body tense as he scanned the area. Mercy followed suit, her senses on high alert as she searched for Adriana. There was a feeling of dark and oppressive magic in the air. Mercy spotted Adriana near the entrance to the abbey, her face pale but determined.

Adriana saw them and hurried over; her expression grim. "She's awake, but it's… bad."

Mercy's stomach dropped. "How bad?"

"She doesn't know where she is," Adriana said, her voice tight with worry. "She's lashing out—at anyone who gets too close. Her magic is… it's wild. We're trying to contain her, but it's not working. She's too powerful."

Hunter stepped forward; his gaze sharp. "Where is she?"

Adriana pointed toward the main hall of the abbey. "Inside. We've tried calming her down, but nothing's working. She's terrified, confused, and angry. And her magic… it's growing stronger by the minute."

Mercy exchanged a glance with Hunter, her heart pounding. This wasn't just a problem anymore. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

"We need to figure out how to calm her down," Mercy said, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides. "Before someone gets hurt."

Hunter's jaw tightened; his eyes dark with determination. "This," he said waggling his finger between them, "will have to wait. Let's go."

Without another word, they followed Adriana into the abbey, the weight of the situation pressing down on them with every step. The tension between Mercy and Hunter was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but for now, it was overshadowed by the chaos they were about to face.

Elyria

Elyria had once been one of the fae, a being of pure magic, untethered by the animalistic desires of the mortal world. But that was before the change, before she had been claimed by the wolf-shifter against her will. She'd been awakened with her wolf in control and the delicate veil of her perfection torn away. It was that perfection that the fae prided themselves on. She had become something else—an abomination in the eyes of her people, tainted by the beast within.

She had lived on the edge of both worlds for years, neither fully fae nor fully shifter, and yet the pull of her heritage still haunted her. In the fae realm, purity was everything. The fae clung to it, guarded it with their lives, believing that anything less was unworthy of their power. Elyria had seen what happened to those who strayed too far from that ideal. It was whispered that hers was not the only bloodline tainted by the mortal world.

There had been a warrior once, a fae of great renown, whose life had crumbled under the weight of her love—love for a human. Elyria had heard the stories growing up, about how this fae warrior had fallen from grace for daring to love a creature not of their kind. She had been banished, exiled alongside her sister to the mortal realm, to the chaotic streets of New Orleans, where magic still flowed but in ways unpredictable and wild. Elyria knew that tale well, for the warrior had once been close to her kin.

It was a familiar fate in the fae world, one that Elyria had narrowly avoided. But her exile was not for love—it was for survival. The day her wolf-shifter blood had awoken, she knew she could never return. The fae would never accept her as she was now, a hybrid of magic and beast. Her purity was gone, replaced by instincts that the fae considered crude, base, and uncontrollable.

But Elyria did not truly regret what she had become. There was freedom in it, a power that pulsed through her veins in a way no fae magic ever had. Still, the ache for the fae realm, of the place she could no longer call home, lingered in her heart.