Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

HUNTER

H unter leaned in closer, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, his lips nearly brushing hers. He licked her lips with his tongue, tasting the heady mix of blood, wine, and her.

"This is not what you need," he murmured.

"You couldn't be more wrong," she whispered, winding her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

The air crackled with the chemistry and tension between them. They stared at each other, their chests rising and falling with the breaths they didn't need to take. In one swift motion, he pulled her against him, crushing his mouth to hers.

It was a clash of teeth and tongues, all heat and fury. Mercy made a small, strangled sound in the back of her throat, but instead of pushing him away, her hands fisted the front of his shirt, yanking him closer.

The kiss was savage, primal—a battle for dominance that neither of them was willing to lose. He nipped her lower lip, eliciting a gasp, then soothed it with his tongue. Mercy arched against him, her body molding to the hard planes of his.

"You belong to and with me, Mercy, and I belong to and with you. When most men tell you they've been waiting most of their lives for you, they're talking decades… I'm talking millennia."

As he'd hoped it would, his remark made Mercy laugh softly before biting his lip.

"I plan to make up for all the time I lost," he vowed.

Bringing their mouths together, Hunter indulged himself in a long, sensual kiss that left them both wanting. His cock was dying, but it would just have to wait. He meant to take his time and savor every moment. He was going to show her how patient and indulgent he could be and lavish her with love, affection, and all the things she'd ever wanted in life.

He thrust his tongue past her lips, letting it tangle and dance with hers. So many times, making love and kissing, specifically, could be awkward, but this was anything but. It was as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

"Don't make any promises you can't keep. I'm not sure that I'm still not angry with you, but at least you make me feel something. When I woke up, I felt dead inside, and this makes me feel alive."

He wanted to curse or growl in frustration, but in the back of his mind, the civilized man urged patience. She could only handle so much, and if that meant he had to settle for just the physical for a while, he would… but not for long.

Hunter pulled off his clothes, and once freed, his cock wanted to push against her entrance. As he made a place for himself between her thighs, he knew that all it would take was a simple thrust, and he could be inside her, pleasuring them both, but he needed her to want him almost as much as he wanted her.

Kissing her again, he lowered his head to her neck, inhaling her scent and kissing the puncture wound he'd left there. It was all but healed, but she shuddered in response. He'd never felt this way about anything or anyone. She was home and nothing had felt like that for longer than he could remember. He ached for her in a way he'd never thought possible.

He trailed kisses down her neck, moving toward her breasts—her ample, glorious breasts that were definitely more than a mouthful and had dusky areolas with stiffened tips that he would suckle at his leisure. Kissing a line to her nipple, he swirled his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth and giving her the edge of his teeth with a gentle nip.

Mercy fisted the bedclothes as she hissed. She was so incredibly responsive. He wanted to spend long days in her bed in her cottage by the sea, exploring every inch of her incredible body. He wanted to have her so aroused and so sensitized to his touch that she'd come the very moment his cock entered her body.

Moving down her body, he spread her legs wide so that he could feast on her pussy. His mouth hovered over her sex, sucking and nipping at her labia before giving her clit a good tongue lashing. Mercy gasped, her hands moving from the sheets to his hair, where she kneaded his head like a cat. She was wet, ripe, and ready, and he didn't mean to keep either of them waiting for long,

Lowering his head, he began to feed on her with a frenzied need he could barely keep under control. He speared her with his rolled tongue, flattening it out to lap up all her honey. It coated his tongue, reminding him of all he'd never had and all that lay ahead for them.

Mercy cried as she came, her body trembling and becoming arched and taut like a bowstring before she sighed and relaxed in his hands. Hunter pushed himself up her body, drawing her legs up to wrap around his waist. She smiled, her eyes soft and loving.

"Look at me, Mercy." Her eyes locked with his. "Promise me that someday you will find a way to forgive me."

She shook her head, and he could feel the place that used to be a heart shatter into a million pieces. She placed both her hands on either side of his head and whispered, "I already have."

And just like that, he was whole again.

Hunter crushed his lips against hers as he thrust up inside her, joining them together in a way that had nothing to do with the physical. He fought with the need that rose up in him—the need of the Neolithic warrior he had once been—to fuck her hard, pounding into her with no thought as to her pleasure.

Instead, he pulled back before thrusting in again, kissing her as he did so. Over and over, he repeated the motion, establishing a rhythm that felt as old and familiar as anything he'd ever done. Her every sigh, her every touch awakened in him things he'd long ago thought left behind. She was the bridge between the warrior he had once been, the monster he had become, and the warrior he could be again.

"Hunter," she cried as her pussy tightened around him, triggering his release as his orgasm bloomed over him, pushing him into an abyss of spiraling pleasure.

He gave her his full weight, reveling in her warmth. He allowed himself that luxury for only a moment before rolling to the side, pulling her close, and covering them with the bedclothes. He had no intention of moving, and no one needed to see her naked except him.

The warmth of Mercy's body pressed against his side was a strange comfort. He had never thought of himself as the kind of man who found solace in someone else's touch, but with her, it was different. The tension that had simmered between them since their first encounter was still there, humming beneath the surface, but now it was tempered by something deeper—something more profound.

They lay together in a peaceful silence, the air thick with the scent of their mingled breaths, their limbs tangled beneath the soft sheets. Mercy's head rested on his chest, her breath warm against his skin, and Hunter couldn't help but run his fingers gently through her hair, marveling at how far they had come in such a short span of time.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Hunter allowed himself to simply be , to exist in the moment without the constant undercurrent of battle and bloodshed. But as the minutes ticked by, a question began to gnaw at the edges of his mind, one he couldn't ignore any longer.

He glanced down at her, his voice soft, cautious. "Mercy… can I ask you something?"

She stirred slightly, her dark eyes meeting his as she tilted her head to look up at him. "Hmm?"

He hesitated, not wanting to shatter the fragile peace between them, but he needed to understand. "Why do you hate vampires so much? I know we're not all good, but neither is anyone else. There are good and bad shifters, good and bad humans. It's more than that for you, isn't it?"

Mercy's body tensed slightly beside him, and he immediately regretted asking. He could feel her withdrawing, the weight of old memories pulling her away from the moment. She let out a slow breath—most vampires continued to breathe , even though they didn't need to. However, not breathing could come in handy if you were in a shipwreck or the collapse of a mine. He shifted so that she wasn't quite as close to him, her fingers tracing a pattern on the bedspread.

"I don't talk about it much," she said quietly, her voice hollow. "But it's a long story."

Hunter remained silent, giving her the space to decide whether or not to tell him. He knew better than to push her, especially when it came to something so deeply personal. After a long pause, Mercy let out a sigh and began to speak, her voice distant as if she were recalling events that had happened to someone else—trying to distance herself from the emotional baggage.

"When I was younger, my village was attacked," she began, her eyes unfocused as she stared at a spot on the wall. "It wasn't a random raid. It was a clandestine attack, planned by a group of vampires who… well, they were hunting us. My family, I mean. We weren't rich or powerful or anything, but we were shifters. Falcons. And in some twisted way, that made us valuable to them."

Hunter's jaw clenched, already knowing where this story was headed, but he let her continue.

"My older sister, Rayna, and I barely escaped," Mercy said, her voice growing quieter. "We ran as hard and fast as we could, trying to make it to the cliffs. Rayna thought we could hide or maybe fly away and lose them, but the vampires… they were faster than we thought. They caught up with us right before we reached the edge of the cliffs."

She paused, swallowing hard, and Hunter could feel the pain radiating from her, the weight of the memories pressing down on her.

"They grabbed Rayna first," Mercy continued, her voice trembling. "She tried to fight them off, but there were too many. I tried to help, but she pushed me away. She told me to run, but I couldn't leave her. I couldn't just abandon her like that."

Hunter felt his insides tightened; instinctively wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. He could feel the tension in her body, the way she was reliving every painful moment as if it had just happened.

"Rayna shoved me over the cliff's edge," Mercy said, her voice breaking. "She knew my falcon would take over. She knew I would survive. And she was right. I shifted in mid-air, and I flew. I flew harder and faster than I ever had before, but… I could still hear her. I could hear her screaming. I could hear them… killing her."

Tears glistened in her eyes, though she didn't let them fall. She shuddered once before continuing. "I didn't stop," she whispered. "I just kept flying. The vampires chased me for miles, but they couldn't catch me. Finally, I was able to find a place to land and hide. I got lucky. A Shadow Sister found me and brought me to safety. But my sister… she was gone."

Hunter closed his eyes, the ache in his chest almost unbearable. He had seen so much death, so much loss in his long life, but hearing Mercy's story—it was different. He could feel her pain as if it were his own, and he hated that she had been forced to carry that burden for so long.

"I'm so sorry," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't even imagine what that must have been like."

Mercy shook her head, wiping her eyes quickly as if ashamed of her tears. "It's not your fault, Hunter. But that's why I hate vampires. They took my sister from me. They destroyed my family."

Hunter's throat tightened, and he gently cupped her face, turning her to look at him. "I'm not like them, Mercy. And you won't be, either. You're still you. You still have your falcon."

She blinked at him, confusion crossing her face. "What?"

"Your falcon," he repeated, his voice soft. "You haven't lost her. She's still there, inside you. She hasn't gone anywhere. You just have to search for her."

Mercy's brow furrowed slightly as she looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers as if trying to grasp the concept. "But I'm a vampire now. How can I still be a shifter?"

"Because you're more than just a vampire," Hunter said gently. "You're unique, Mercy. You're strong, and you're resilient. That part of you hasn't been taken away. It's still inside you. You just have to search for it."

Mercy closed her eyes, centering herself and focusing inwardly, trying to find the falcon within her. She had been so overwhelmed by the transformation, by the new hunger and the fear that came with it, that she hadn't even thought to reach for the part of herself that had always been her core.

For a long, agonizing moment, nothing happened. Hunter watched her, willing her to find that connection, to know that she hadn't lost everything.

Then, slowly, a faint shimmer of energy enveloped her, a soft glow that pulsed from within. Hunter felt the air around them shift, the subtle presence of something wild, untamed. When she opened her eyes, there was a new light in them—one that Hunter hadn't seen since before the transformation.

"I can feel her," Mercy whispered, her voice trembling with awe. "She's still there."

Hunter smiled, relief flooding through him. "I told you. When I was turned into a vampire, I lost my wolf for a while, but eventually he and I found each other again."

Mercy's expression softened, the tension in her body easing as she allowed herself to accept what had once seemed impossible. She hadn't lost her falcon. She was still a shifter, still the woman she had always been—only now, she was more.

But before she could fully relax, Hunter gently took her hand, his tone serious once more. "There's something else you need to know," he said. "You're not just a falcon-shifter anymore. You'll be able to shift into anything you want. Any creature, any form. That's part of what you've gained from the transformation."

Mercy blinked in surprise, her brow furrowing. "Anything?"

Hunter nodded. "Yes. But the connection you have with the falcon—that's special. It's unique. With the other forms, you'll just be assuming a different shape. You won't have that same bond with them. But you can still do it."

Mercy looked down at her hands again, as if testing her newfound power, her fingers trembling slightly. "I don't know if I'm ready for this," she admitted quietly.

Hunter leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against her forehead. "You don't have to be ready. You just have to take it one step at a time. You're stronger than you think, Mercy. You always have been."

For a long moment, Mercy said nothing, her gaze distant as she processed everything he had told her. But slowly, a sense of acceptance began to settle over her. She wasn't happy about what had happened—far from it. But she was beginning to realize that maybe, just maybe, she could still be herself. She could still fight for what she believed in, still protect the people she cared about.

"I don't know how to feel about all of this," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "But I guess I don't have much of a choice."

Hunter ached at the resignation in her voice, but he knew she would find her way through this. She was too strong, too resilient to be defeated by what had happened. And he would be there with her every step of the way.

"You'll figure it out," he said softly, pulling her closer. "And I'll be here to help."

Mercy looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe understanding. Whatever it was, she found it in the quiet intensity of his gaze, and her lips curved into a small, hesitant smile.

"You're not so bad, for a vampire," she teased, though her voice was laced with affection.

Hunter chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "And you're not so bad yourself, for a newly turned vampire-shifter-fae hybrid."

"So, what you're saying is I'm some kind of weirdo."

"I would say rare and unique, but if you truly are a weirdo, you're my kind of weirdo, and I think you're amazing."

Mercy laughed, the sound light and genuine, and for the first time since her transformation, Hunter felt a flicker of hope. They would get through this. There were still so many challenges ahead, so many questions left unanswered. The witch, the fae, the dark forces that seemed to be gathering around them—it was all far from over.

Still, for now, Hunter allowed himself to bask in the quiet peace of the moment, to hold Mercy close. For the moment, it was enough.

But deep down, he knew the storm was coming. And when it did, they would have to be ready.