Page 3 of The Huntress and Her Hound

I bat my lashes. “I have a better idea.” I set the glass down on the dresser and reach for the zipper of my dress. I hate this part.

But he’ll be dead soon.

Licking the remnants of alcohol off my lips, I let the dress fall around my ankles, revealing my lace bike shorts and my bare breasts. They’re small, but perky, and that does the trick for Dylan.

His eyes widen with lust. “This is a better idea.”

“Mmm,” I purr, grabbing the glass and walking over to him. I climb onto his lap, my breasts in his face. “Here.” I tip the glass to his lips, and his eyes grow hooded as his hands rake over my bare sides.

He downs the mixture in one go, making a face as I drop the glass to the bed. “That is strong,” he chuckles, and then leans in toward my tits.

“You know,” I grab his jaw with both of my hands and force it back away from me. “I prefer to be in control.” I slide off his lap, and in one swift motion, I force my heel into his chest, shoving him back onto the bed.

“What the fuck?” he grunts. “What’s wrong with you?” Dylan shifts to sit up, but he falls back. His brows furrow as he rubs his forehead, confusion etched in his expression.

“Feeling drunk?” I tease as I lean over him, unsnapping his pants. “That vodka must’ve hit you hard.”

“Yeah,” he mutters as I begin to work them off. I need him in his boxers. His voice begins to slur. “You can be on top. Hurry up.”

On the verge of passing out and still thinking about sex.

I drop his pants to the floor as he struggles to scoot back and lay his head on the pillow. “You’re really something, Dylan.”

“It’s Demetri,” he corrects me with disgust, reaching for his bulge.

“Oh, well, shit. I was wrong this whole time,” I laugh, tipping my head back. “Close enough though, right? I mean, do you even know my name?”

“Why’s it matter?” he shoots back, his words almost incoherent now. “You’re just another stupid cunt.”

“Wow, you’re such a gentleman,” I cackle as I swoop my dress up from the floor. I slide it back on, zipping it up with ease.

“St-stop that...” He throws a hand in my direction. “Get on my cock, bitch.”

I roll my eyes. “Uh, huh. It’s probably better that we don’t.”

“Why?” His eyes are growing glassy. “I wasted all my drinks on you...”

“What a shame...” I give him a pitiful pout and then walk over to the bed, leaning over to brush my nose against him. “Death is so anticlimactic, you know? That’s the thing with a Black Widow, when she bites her prey, they become paralyzed. The fun is over in seconds. It’s almost... Well, depressing—but whatever keeps the monsters at bay? Am I right?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

I sigh in annoyance. “I’m saying that I’d truly love to rip you to shreds like a wolf, but then, I’d risk getting caught. It’s easy to write off a partier for what they are—an overindulgent fool. And there are plenty of them in this city.”

“You’re a real cunt.”

“Thanks,” I dig through his mini fridge, cracking open the bottles and taking my time going back and forth to the bathroom sink. I drain all the alcohol and scatter the bottles around the room. I wipe a bead of sweat from my forehead as Demetri finally grows quiet.

Next time, I’ll use fentanyl. Much easier to clean up.

Chapter Two

The Hound

“Vegas.” I frown as I read the location. Fuck, I hate everything about Sin City. It’s crowded, sleazy, and hot. I turn to Henry. “We should just skip this one.”

“We could,” Henry reasons, staring at the computer screen over my shoulder. “But it would give me a chance to see Cher. I haven’t seen her in the flesh since she moved from Oregon.”

I pop my jaw. “I haven’t ever seen your sister in the flesh.” I roll my finger over the pad, and double click the link for the target. The face of a man not much older than me fills the screen. Jaxton Banks, a finance guy.

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