Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

HUNTER

D esire flared white-hot inside him, burning through every rational thought. He gripped her hips, hauling her flush against his body as he walked her backward until the back of her thighs hit the edge of the library table.

Without breaking the kiss, Hunter hoisted her up, sending papers and books scattering to the floor. Mercy wrapped her legs around his waist, her nails raking down his back as she pressed herself against his growing arousal.

"I don't want to be mated to a vampire, Hunter," she gasped, her voice throaty and laced with want and need. The sound of his name on her lips was his undoing.

He tore his mouth from hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and down the elegant column of her neck.

"It doesn't matter what you want or what I want. This is fate, destiny. It's your fault. Vampires don't have fated mates. But here we are, and we can't do anything about it."

Mercy tipped her head back, offering him better access—at least, that's what he told himself. He nipped at the sensitive skin—a lingering instinct left over from his time as a wolf-shifter—soothing the stinging bites with the flat of his tongue.

Inhaling deeply, the scent of her coppery blood wafted through to his nostrils. God, how badly he wanted to sink his fangs into her, but would it be to mark her or to drink from her?

"You feel so good," she moaned, her hips rocking against his in a primal rhythm.

His hands glided up her sides, fingers hooking beneath the delicate straps of her dress. With one fluid motion, he yanked the fabric down, baring her upper body to his hungry gaze. The sight of her flushed skin and lace-clad breasts would have stolen his breath, had he any breath to steal.

"I suppose we don't have a choice in any of this, do we?" Mercy whimpered, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

"No, so why not just give in and enjoy ourselves? You can hate me all you want, but I can promise to pleasure you in ways you've never imagined."

He planted another searing kiss along her skin, his tongue plunging into the warm recesses of her mouth as he set to work on the zipper of her dress. The fine material parted with a quiet whisper, and soon, it joined the growing pile of discarded clothing at their feet.

Mercy gripped his hard cock in her hand, fondling it with ease and the right amount of pressure.

"Fuck," he growled, the sensation of her touch shooting sparks through an erotic system he had long thought dead.

His hands found her breasts, palming them through the barely there lace of her bra, his thumbs brushing over her erect nipples. Mercy gasped, her long legs wrapping around Hunter's waist as he pressed her against the table.

"Is this part of your promise?" she breathed out, her fingers squeezing him gently.

"Just a small taste," Hunter replied, ripping the lace from her body with a predatory growl.

Naked and flushed under his gaze, Mercy looked like a goddess. Her body was heated and willing beneath his. But it wasn't until he claimed her lips once more that she fully surrendered herself to him.

Her kiss was hungry, desperate for more contact, and for the first time, Hunter felt the tiniest sliver of hope. Maybe they could survive the madness after all. It was a dangerous thought but one that fueled his desire all the more. They'd done something few others had ever attempted—the mating of a vampire to a shifter.

Both her people and his had tried to stop the creation of hybrids for centuries… but there was power in their joining. With a darkness rising, their union could be used to bring all sides on the side of the light to the table and keep more blood from being shed.

Mercy's moans grew louder, and he dipped his hand between her legs, feeling her essence.

"Hunter," she sighed, the sweet sound of his name on her lips making him even harder.

He stroked her, eliciting another gasp. Her hips bucked against his hand, chasing the pleasure she knew he would undoubtedly give her.

"Patience, mate," he teased, withdrawing his hand only to slide two fingers into her tight warmth. She was wet and ready, her body clinging onto his fingers, begging for more.

"You should know patience isn't my strong suit," she whispered huskily, her hands digging into his shoulders. "I need you now."

A smile tugged at his lips as he lifted her off the table, her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. With one swift motion, Hunter sank into her warmth, causing them both to groan at the contact.

"Fuck, Mercy," he panted as he began to move in and out in slow, deliberate strokes.

Each thrust pushed a soft whimper from her lips. Mercy's voice trembled as she clung to him, her fingers finding solace in his hair.

"Harder, Hunter," she begged, and happily, he complied.

Each thrust was harder than the last, making her gasp and moan in delight. Their energies collided in a pleasurable rhythm that traveled through their bodies. Her moans matched the intensity of his rhythmic movements, the symphony of their lovemaking echoing against the stone walls of the library.

A shiver ran down his spine as Mercy dug her nails into his back. Her breath hitched when he altered the angle of his strokes, hitting a sweet spot that made her scream out his name. The sound of pure pleasure rippled through him, fueling his desire and quickening his pace. She was close—so very close.

"Right there," she cried out, her body trembling with near climax.

Hunter captured her lips with his once more, muffling her scream as she reached her peak. She arched her back, her body stiffening in pleasure as waves of bliss washed over her. She clung to him, her breath hitching as she rode out her orgasm.

Mercy's climax triggered his own, and with a last hard thrust, he tumbled over the edge. His groan mingled with hers as he spilled himself into her warmth. He buried his face in her neck, nuzzling her in a kind of faded ecstasy. She smelled so good that he couldn't help but lightly rake his fangs against her delicate skin, yearning for more.

God, he wanted to taste her… but now was not the time.

Hunter stirred in the small bed, his senses gradually returning as the dream faded away. The faint glow of a lamp cast a soft light across the stone walls, illuminating the modest room he found himself in. He blinked; his mind sluggish as he tried to piece together how he'd gotten here. The room had the feel of a dungeon or perhaps a monastery's enclave—cold stone, sparse furnishings, but with a subtle attempt at comfort. A pillow and blanket were provided, and he noticed his wounds had healed completely, not even a scar remaining to mark where he had been hurt. A small clock on the nightstand ticked softly, its hands indicating that evening had given way to full night.

Rising from the bed, Hunter swung his legs over the edge, flexing his limbs as he tested his body's recovery. He stretched, rolling his shoulders, feeling the taut muscles loosen. Whoever took care of me did a damn good job. He stood and walked over to a small chest where a set of clothes had been left for him—dark trousers, a clean shirt, and a well-worn leather jacket that fit him perfectly. He dressed quickly, feeling the familiar weight of the fabric on his skin, but his mind raced with questions.

Hunter crossed the room, testing the heavy wooden door. It opened easily, much to his surprise, swinging outward with no resistance. His instincts, honed by centuries of hunting, told him to be wary, but the air felt calm. Still, best to be cautious. He stepped into the hallway, the stone beneath his boots slightly uneven, worn smooth by countless footsteps over the years. The passageway sloped gently, leading upward, and he followed the incline, his senses alert.

As he ascended the stairs, his hand trailed along the rough stone walls. The architecture was old, ancient even, and as he climbed higher, the sounds of activity drifted toward him—faint murmurs, clattering dishes, and the unmistakable scent of food. His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it. Unlike many of his kind, Hunter still liked to eat. He didn't need to in order to survive, but food had always been more of a pleasure than a necessity. Perhaps because he had lived so long, he didn't require a daily intake of blood—human or otherwise. Human was best, but he could survive on the blood of animals almost as well.

Focus. Where am I?

At the top of the stairs, he pushed open a heavy door, and suddenly, the world around him exploded into life. He stepped into a large gathering room, bustling with people moving about—some seated at long wooden tables, others serving food, chatting, laughing. The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the air, making the room feel warm and alive. Hunter scanned the space, his sharp gaze sweeping over the faces, searching for something familiar or someone who could provide answers.

Before he could move further, a woman approached him. She was tall and elegant, her expression serious but not unkind. Her eyes appraised him coolly, though her posture wasn't hostile.

"You're awake," she said, her tone steady. "I'm Brie."

Hunter's eyes narrowed slightly. "Where am I, and how did I get here?"

Brie gestured toward an empty seat at a nearby table. "Come. We can talk while you sit."

He hesitated for a moment but then followed her, keeping his guard up as he approached what appeared to be the head table. The others in the room gave him curious glances, but no one moved toward him. Brie seated herself, motioning for him to join her.

A serving girl approached, her hands trembling slightly as she held a carafe of wine. "Would you like some wine, sir?" she asked nervously.

Hunter shook his head, though he appreciated her attempt to be hospitable. Brie's lips quirked in amusement as she looked at the girl.

"Our friend here is a vampire," Brie said smoothly. "He doesn't drink wine."

The girl's eyes widened slightly, and she hurried away, her cheeks flushed.

"That's not necessarily true. I just thought I should keep a clear head until I have a better idea of what's what."

Brie turned back to Hunter, her expression hardening ever so slightly. "But you're not planning to drink anyone's blood, are you?"

The warning in her voice was clear, as was the veiled threat behind it. Hunter leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "No. I'm not here to cause trouble."

Brie studied him for a long moment, her eyes flicking over his face as if trying to read his intentions. Finally, she nodded, her posture relaxing slightly. "Good. Now, let's talk. You showed up last night at the library, bleeding and half-dead. What happened?"

Hunter glanced around the room again before speaking. "I was tracking a witch and vampire duo. They've been causing problems—disappearances, deaths, things the local authorities can't explain. I tracked them to a hidden passage beneath the chapel in the village and interrupted some kind of ritual." His voice dropped slightly as he recalled the scene. "They were draining a shifter's life force, siphoning her power for themselves."

Brie's brow furrowed. "A shifter? And you stopped them?"

"I tried. But there were too many of them," Hunter admitted, his voice laced with frustration. "I managed to get the woman—the shifter—out. I didn't think she could wait if she was to survive."

At that, a man joined them at the table, pulling up a chair beside Brie. He had a rugged, easygoing demeanor, but Hunter could tell by the way his eyes sharpened that he was no stranger to trouble.

"Colby," the man introduced himself, shaking Hunter's hand. "Sounds like you've had a rough night."

"You could say that," Hunter replied, his gaze flicking back to Brie. "What is this place? And why did you bring me here?"

"You're in our abbey," Brie explained. "We found you in the library after you collapsed. Mercy called us for help."

"Mercy," Hunter repeated, his mind flashing back to the woman in the library. The falcon shifter. He'd known there was something about her, but now, with the clarity of hindsight, he understood exactly what it was. She was his fated mate, which seemed odd after all this time. After all, vampires didn't have fated mates. Perhaps it was just the residual of the wolf-shifter he had been a very long time ago.

"We brought you and the wounded woman here for safety," Colby added, leaning forward. "You were in no shape to fight anymore."

Hunter's expression darkened slightly. "I wasn't done."

Brie raised an eyebrow. "Maybe not, but if you'd tried to go after them in the state you were in, you'd be dead now. You should be thanking us."

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Fair enough." He met Brie's gaze again, his voice steady. "What do you know about this witch and vampire?"

Brie exchanged a glance with Colby before answering. "Not much yet, but we've heard rumors. They're amassing power, building an army of sorts. We've seen an increase in supernatural disturbances lately—things that don't add up. It's our belief that it's all connected."

Hunter's jaw clenched. "I need to find them."

"You'll need help," Colby said, his voice firm. "This isn't something you can take on alone."

"I've always worked alone," Hunter replied.

"Well, you're not alone now," Brie said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We're in this together, whether you like it or not."

Hunter didn't argue. He knew they were right, as much as he hated to admit it. The witch and the vampire were more dangerous than he'd anticipated. Much as he hated to admit it, he could use their help.

"What about the woman I saved?" he asked, changing the subject. "The shifter?"

"She's being cared for in one of our medical bays," Brie replied. "You're welcome to visit her if you think she can give you more information."

Hunter nodded, grateful for the offer. "Not now, but I will. Maybe she can tell me more about what they were doing to her."

Brie stood, gesturing toward the door. "When you're ready, I'll have someone take you to her."

Hunter rose from the table, nodding to both Brie and Colby. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I need to be going after this. I can't let them get away."

As he walked toward the door, ready to leave, it opened, and Mercy stepped inside. Hunter stopped in his tracks, watching her carefully as she entered. She was more striking than he remembered, her silver-blonde hair catching the light as she moved, her dark eyes locking onto his with an intensity that sent a jolt through him.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his body responded instantly, recognizing her as his fated mate. The air between them seemed to crackle, alive with an energy that had nothing to do with the room full of people.

He stepped forward, his hand reaching out to grasp her hand, bringing it to his lips. "We meet again," he said, his voice low, almost teasing.

Mercy's eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she looked like she might pull away. But she didn't. Instead, her lips quirked into a small, wary smile. "It would appear to be so. Is your grasp of the obvious always this astounding?"

Hunter held her gaze for a moment longer, his smile growing. He knew now, beyond any doubt, that there was something powerful between them. Something he couldn't ignore, even if he wanted to. This fated mate thing might not be so bad.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked, her voice steady, though her eyes flicked over him, searching for any remaining signs of his injuries.

"I am," Hunter replied, still holding her arm. "Thanks to you and your friends here."

Mercy's smile faltered for a split second, a shadow crossing her expression before she nodded. "Good."

They stood there for a moment longer, neither willing to break the connection. Finally, Mercy dislodged her hand from his grip, though the warmth of her skin lingered on his lips.

"I need to go," he said softly. "But I'll be back."

Mercy nodded; her expression unreadable. "I'll be around."

Hunter's smile returned, softer this time. The fire that had ignited inside him the moment he'd seen Mercy again burned hotter than ever. He had a mission to complete, a witch and a vampire to hunt.

But Mercy… she was another kind of mission altogether.