Page 31 of The Wild Hunt

His claws dance across the intricate patterns burned into my skin, tracing each twisting mark with a slow, deliberate touch.I gasp as he traces over the delicate designs on my chest, shoulders, and arms, the skin still tender and raw beneath his touch. His claws press just lightly enough to cause a sting, the burns pulsing with heat as if they’re still alive beneath the surface.

His cruel lips curl into a smirk. “Such beautiful patterns, it’s a shame these will fade,” he murmurs, his claws tracing the edges of the lines. “The marks of The Hunt look perfect on you.”

I shiver, trapped beneath him as he moves slowly, purposefully, tracing every burn with the tip of his claw, sending a mix of pain and heat radiating through my skin. My breath is shaky, chest heaving as I try to suppress my body’s reaction to the stimulation.

“I am curious to know what oath you broke, how you ended up marked,” he says softly and I frown slightly, not understanding. “Not that it matters much now.”

His fingertips glide lower, grazing the sensitive skin just beneath my collarbone, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of creature wears that mask—what kind of man hides behind it. The sharp angles of the skull catch the faint light, the antlers casting ominous shadows across his face. Every move he makes feels deliberate, calculated, as if he’s savoring every second.

Then, my breath quickens as his attention shifts. His fingers follow the curve of my body, finally grazing the soft skin of my breasts. My breath catches in my throat, a soft whimper escaping as he drags the sharp tips of his claws down the delicate skin, a mocking smile playing at his lips.

“Such pretty skin,” he purrs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Each freckle looks like a star... I think I'll draw my own constellations here.” His claws press down just enough to scratch the surface, a faint trail of blood appearing where it cuts into my breast.

Leaning down, his breath is hot against the fresh wounds he’s just traced into my skin. His lips hover near the cuts for a moment, as though savoring the sight of my trembling body, before his tongue darts out, sliding across the blood. His movements are slow, deliberate, as if he wants to draw out every drop, every reaction. Each flick of his tongue, each brush of his lips, sends a shiver rippling through me. I can feel my pulse racing, the erratic pounding of my heart as he licks the blood, his mouth following the curve of my breasts. His smirk deepens, as though he is enjoying the way my body reacts beneath him, the way I tremble and whimper.

Leaning back he trails the claws lower, the sharp tips hovering just above my throbbing heat. “Are you wet for me, little prey? Does your body want me, even when your mind rebels?” He softly asks, in a voice that slips through the air like silk. “Should I press my claws to your pussy and see just how soft your flesh is there? If you aren’t wet enough, your blood will work just as nicely.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, my body shaking with fear and something else—something I don't want to name. His words send a jolt through me, and I feel a rush of heat between my legs, my body betraying me once again. I’m frozen, unable to speak to respond, caught somewhere between terror and arousal.

He chuckles, a low, dark sound that slides across my skin like a caress. "Open your eyes," he commands, his voice a low growl. "I want to see the fear in them when I touch you."

Reluctantly, I obey, my eyelids fluttering open and I can feel the heat of his gaze on me from behind his mask. He shifts and I suddenly feel more thorny vines wrap around my ankles, cutting into the skin there and tugging my legs apart so he can slide between them.

"Good girl." His approval sends an involuntary thrill through me. I shudder as his claws trail lower, ghosting over my trembling thighs. "Now, let's see just how wet you are for me."

Chapter 18

Mac

His claws part my folds with agonizing slowness, and I can't suppress the gasp that escapes my lips. The sharp tips graze my sensitive flesh, a mixture of pain and pleasure that makes me want to buck my hips but I keep as still as possible.

My mind is screaming at me, begging me to fight back, to not simply give in to this dark monster. But yet another part knows what a real monster is, and no matter who The Huntsman is, he isn’t like Nathan. Yes, The Huntsman is enjoying my fear, my pain, but it's not the same.

Exploring further with his claws, he uses one metal curve to circle my clit teasingly. I bite my lip, trying to stifle the moan threatening to escape. The Huntsman chuckles again, clearly enjoying my struggle.

"Don't hold back," he commands, his voice a silky purr. "I want to hear every sound you make."

I can't help the whimper that escapes as his claw continues to tease my sensitive bud. My hips twitch involuntarily, tornbetween pulling away and pressing closer. The Huntsman's masked face tilts, observing my reactions with clear amusement.

"Such a responsive little prey," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "I wonder how you'll sound when I'm inside you."

Before I can process his words, he slides a finger into me, the sudden intrusion making me gasp. My heart almost stops as I wait for the pain, but it's warm and smooth - he's somehow removed his glove without me noticing, or made it disappear like he did the cloak. His finger curls inside me, stroking places that make me see stars.

"Ah, there it is," he says, satisfaction dripping from his words as I let out a strangled moan. "Let me hear more of those pretty sounds."

He adds another finger, stretching me further. I can't help but arch my back as his fingers delve deeper, my body responding despite my mind's desperate attempts to resist. The thorns dig deeper into my wrists and ankles as I writhe, sending fresh jolts of pain through me. I can feel the blood sliding down my skin as it gets torn open. But even that pain mingles with the pleasure, creating a heady cocktail of sensations that leaves me dizzy and breathless, my heartbeat pounding loudly.

The Huntsman's fingers move with practiced skill, stroking and curling inside me. His thumb finds my clit, circling it with maddening precision. I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to stifle the moans that threaten to escape. I shouldn’t be enjoying this.

"Now, now," he chides, his voice a dark purr. "I told you I want to hear you."

As if to punish me for my silence, he presses down harder on my clit, making me cry out. The sound echoes through the forest, a mix of pleasure and desperation that seems to please the Huntsman. His fingers move faster, deeper, and I can feel the pressure building inside me. My hips buck against his hand,seeking more friction, more pleasure, even as my mind reels at my body's betrayal.

I shake my head, trying to deny the feelings he is forcing on me but I can't hold back anymore. Moans spill from my lips, growing louder and more frantic as he works me closer to the edge. The thorns dig deeper into my wrists and ankles as I strain against them, the pain only adding to the overwhelming sensations coursing through my body.

Just as I feel myself teetering on the brink of release, he suddenly withdraws his fingers. I whimper at the loss. His husky laugh has something twisting low in my belly, my pussy throbbing. “When you come, it's going to be with me buried so deeply inside you that you will never forget the feeling of me there.”

The Huntsman's words send a shiver through me, a mix of fear and anticipation. I hear the rustle of fabric and a chill washes over me, fear rising again. I open my mouth, but whatever I planned to say escapes me when I feel the hot, hard length of him pressing against my entrance. My breath catches in my throat as he slowly pushes forward, stretching me wider than his fingers had. So much wider.

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