Page 33 of Hunted

“But my work..." I try to protest, even as my body arches shamelessly into his touch. "I can't abandon everything I've worked so hard for."

Aksel's laugh is low and dark, like the rumble of distant thunder. "Can't you, littlefugl?" His fingers tangle in my hair, gripping firmly enough to make me gasp. “After everything we've shared, you'd still choose that sterile little lab over the wildness I can offer you?"

His lips brush against my earlobe. "I've ruined you for anything less than the freedom of the hunt, baby girl. You and I know there's no going back to that caged existence you had before."

A whimper escapes my lips as desire crashes over me in dizzying waves. Because damn him, he's right—the woman I was before is gone, sloughed off like a shed snakeskin. In her place is someone rawer and feral, who craves the untamed world Aksel introduced her to.

As if sensing my surrender, Aksel's grip on my hair softens to a sensual caress. "That's my good girl," he purrs, dragging his lips against my jaw. "Don't fight what you know to be true, littlefugl. You belong to me now, in the life I can give you. No more cages, no more constraints, just the thrill of the hunt and the pleasure of being mine."

His mouth claims mine in a scorching kiss, and I melt against him, all resistance gone. Because he's right—I’m his now, in mind, body, and spirit. And as terrifying as that reality is, I know there's no escaping the wildness he's awoken in my soul.

"What am I going to do about work, though?” I breathe, shaking my head. “My boss won’t be happy, and I’ve got all the equipment?—"

"Don't worry about that, baby girl," he rumbles. "I'll make sure your boss gets the message, loud and clear."

Then his mouth crashes down on mine, swallowing my gasp of surprise as he kisses me deeply, possessively. And in that endless, searing moment, I know there's no going back.

Not that I'd ever want to.

17

AKSEL

Glancing out the window, I scan the surrounding forest for signs of life. Tor is a threat. All our lives, he's been trying to one-up me. Seeing me with Zara, I know he'll want to take her from me.

Tor has spent his life living similarly to me. He’ll see Zara as a prize free for the taking, and I can't have that. If I have to kill him, then so be it.

Zara emerges from the bedroom, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "What are you doing?" she asks.

I turn to face her, not wanting to reveal the messed-up thoughts racing through my mind. "Just scoping out the area," I say nonchalantly, forcing a casual shrug.

She regards me momentarily, those piercing green eyes seeming to bore into my soul. I tense, wondering if she can sense the darkness lurking within.

But then she clears her throat. We should invite Tor over for a meal this evening.

The idea makes my jaw clench. The last thing I want is that smug bastard near Zara or my territory. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, baby girl," I say, trying to keep my tone even.

Zara frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. The motion makes the thin fabric of her shirt strain against her full breasts, and I have to tear my gaze away to focus. "Why not? He's your family."

"Exactly." I rake a hand through my hair, thinking of an excuse she'll accept. "Things can be complicated with family. Especially Tor. You don't want to get caught in the middle of that."

Her brow furrows. "Is everything okay between you two?"

I smile reassuringly, stepping closer to run my knuckles along her soft cheek. "Everything's fine. I just prefer to keep certain parts of my life separate, that's all."

Zara worries her full lower lip between her teeth, a gesture that makes my cock stir. But after a moment, she gives a small nod. “Alright, if you're sure."

Relieved, I pull her against me, breathing in her intoxicating scent. "I'm sure. Now, how about I make us some breakfast?"

Zara's eyes light up at the mention of breakfast. "That sounds amazing," she says with a bright smile like a ray of sunshine piercing through the darkness I surround myself with.

As I turn toward the kitchen, my mind is whirring, calculating my next move. Tor can't be allowed to interfere in this.

She leans back against the counter, watching me. "So tell me about your family. I'd love to hear more about where you come from."

The request makes me tense, the easygoing domesticity we'd been enjoying evaporating instantly. I don't like talking about my past or the people in it. Most of them are dead anyway—either at my own hand or because the world is an ugly, unforgiving place.

Keeping my back to her, I focus on cracking eggs into a bowl, trying to keep my voice casual. "Not much to tell, really."

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