Page 22 of Hunted

“How are you feeling?” Alexandre asks. He presses forward, rubbing our noses together in a gesture that makes my eyes burn. It’s…intimate, and it makes me feel far more naked than my current physical state.

Around us, things are quieting down. I think, at least. The earlier slapping of skin and ravenous moans have been replaced by a more delicate kind of melody. One that combines with the lingering sound of the piano, that is now playing long and nostalgic tones, a song once again strangely familiar. It clenches something in my chest, and suddenly I’m having a hard time breathing. Alexandre squints his eyes, his fleeting hands petting my uncovered skin. The ephemeral touch leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“Is it your back?” He asks. “Does it still hurt?”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so.”

He tssks, then laces his arms under my nape, careful not to touch the welts where his stone hit their target, as he pulls me up and lifts us upward and off the altar. Sitting me up, we’re once more on eye level. I wince when I arch my spine and stretch my muscles. He’s right, my back is burning. He really did hit me hard with his stones. The earlier adrenaline that locked out the flames of pain and kept me on my feet is slowly dissolving leaving a shell that feels bruised and weak.

And with the physical ache comes the fatigue. The mental ache. I’m feeling stripped bare and I can’t explain why. It’s something that goes deeper than tonight’s events, deeper than the fear and the thrill, deeper than the physical attraction. I was promised an altered future, but it feels like they’ve equally gotten their hands into my past, rooting through the absence of my dad and my sister. Finding my loneliness.

The thought has me swaying, tired muscles trembling. “Those balls you threw at me from your armour—what are they made of?” I ask.

Alexandre instantly moves his hands from my back to my shoulders, pressing his palms in the crook of my nape to keep me upright. “They’re stones, little wolf,” he says. “But I added a layer of silk to make them look good.” He shrugs when I let out a snort, but the corners of his lips curl up. Like mine. Because there’s something endearing about the way this big, bad guy requests access to my heart. With threats and pain. With a smooth touch and a dirty mouth. God, the words he utters. My stomach flutters, but the rest of my body is too tired to be awoken by arousal. Not being fueled by a sexual desire makes these feelings somehow more delicate, makes the thoughts more truthful.

Alexandre brushes a lock of hair from my cheek, cupping my exposed flesh. I flush, reveling in his attention, bafflement and apprehension battling inside me. When will he grow tired of me?

“My parents would like to meet you,” he says, surprising the hell out of me. My mouth falls open, but he simply ignores my gaping with a boyish grin as he continues, “We’ll leave for my family home tomorrow with my brothers Lancelot and Raphaël. Maël will come too with his boyfriend Thurel. I think you’ll get along well. Allez, viens.” He hauls me onto my wobbly feet and my hands reach for his shoulders on instinct as I try to steady myself. He’s taller than I am, lithe with muscle development in the right places. His chest is wide and strong, and he feels so warm.

“Your parents?” I hear myself ask, gaze darting around to our surroundings. I was right, less people linger around. The Elders are gone, all three of them. Dominique’s still playing the piano, his legs spread wide apart. I turn away when my gaze zooms in on the platinum blond haired guy between his thighs. Others are talking, small groups of cloaks huddled together, sipping champagne.

I turn back to Alexandre. “Isn’t that illegal?”

He smirks. “Only when you’re on the wrong side of the law.”

Yes, they consume alcohol, which is against school rules. No, I can’t bring myself to care at this moment. Or to be surprised. I come to realize that despite my privileged upbringing, there’s an entire world ahead of me above the hidden attic door.

Dragging my gaze back, I let him pull me close. It’s comforting. “Are those cars?” I point out a number of large, dark shapes that slickly approach us in the shadows.

“Hmm,” Alexandre nods, brushing away a lock of hair from my face before pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Most students came here especially for the Initiations. They now go home to enjoy the rest of their Summer Break.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” I say, thinking of George, who is picking me up tomorrow.

“That’s right.”

“Our valet?—”

“No.” He squeezes me tighter against his chest, my back blanketed by his strong shape, his arms crossed over my chest. “You’re coming home with me. Come on, I’ve got another surprise for you.” He squeezes my shoulders, then grabs me by the hand and starts pulling me away.

But there’s something there. A flash, two, before it disappears between the shadows. My head spins around, and I blink my eyes when I don’t find what I’m looking for. Something that’s even more out of the ordinary than the leftover scene of tonight’s debauchery.

Still, I can feel its presence—shock, disbelief, fear.

“Wait.” I squeeze Alexandre’s wrist, and for the shortest of seconds I feel like a purring cat at the way he obeys, the way he gives me space to become an equal partner despite his strong desire to rule and control in the bedroom, and most likely in most scenarios in life.

“What is it, petit loup?” His voice is a hush, his other hand already in the small of my naked back. Protective, caring.

We have known each other for the course of one night and, like the perfect glove, we seem to fit perfectly.

“There’s someone out there—” My eyes involuntarily land at the guys seated in the far corner, Edouard being one of them. He’s still wearing his obscene camouflage, eerily beautiful as it glimmers in the faint light, casually chatting and laughing with the others. Some of them have taken off their masks and put off their hoods, revealing normal students of Saint-Laurent. I don’t recognize anyone.

“You mean Edouard? Yeah, he’s crazy,” Alexandre huffs. When I don’t reply, simply gaze into the mystical twilight, at the mixture of flickering shadows caused by the remainders of those candles still lit, he adds, “and dangerous. It’s best to stay away from him, little wolf. That’s why next round will be sweet, ‘cause it will be his turn to settle with his chosen one.” Alexandre chuckles, and that’s when I see those flashes once more. Once, twice, before they disappear. It makes the hair on the back of my head stand up instantly, and I point a trembling finger toward the chatting guys. Toward the darkness.

“You don’t know these guys?” Alexandre asks, oblivious. “So, the one he’s talking to is Arthur Deveraux. His twin, Louis, is the one talking to their stepbrother, Régis. Surely you have heard of their name?”

“Not them,” I whisper. My voice sounds ragged. “There’s something there. Right behind them. Please—” I blink, but nothing seems out of the ordinary once more. Turning back to face Alexandre, I whisper, “I’m tired. I want to go back home.”

Menteur.

---