Page 10 of Wolf Hunter

A twig snaps in the shadows, and everyone’s head whips that way. My heart beats faster.

“They’re here,” Mae gasps, fear draining all the color from her face. Movements turning jerkier, she looks at me. “Are you ready for this, Tasha?”

I nod as I try to control my own fluttering fears. The air changes, becomes thinner, clearer. It’s a bit harder to draw in an entire lungful. Might be my imagination. Might be magic. It’s hard to tell.

Around us, the coven members all step aside, forming a clear path from us to the pack emerging from the woods. Dark figures come forward, stepping into the full moon’s light. The first ones are still in animal form, massive wolves, all too big to not be shifters. There has to be close to twenty of them alone. Their eyes shine yellow as they sweep over the witches before resting on me.

There’s a reason for their chosen name, Redcliff. It was a nickname they were given for all the death and carnage surrounding their pack, and the blood that would paint the mountain’s snow red. They adopted the name themselves, seeing that it fit them so well.

Then the pack members walking as humans stride into the clearing. To my surprise, there are only three of them, but each is intimidating in their own right. The one on the left seems to be the youngest. His face is still boyish and round, and he has a head full of blond curls, but the rigidness in his posture tells me he’s poised to either flee or fight. And since these wolves aren’t the ones to show any cowardice, my guess is the latter.

His opposite is a shifter who’s wide at the shoulders and rippled with muscle. I can see that because he’s missing his shirt, and his pants ride low on his hips as if he threw them on too fast to care how they look. His dark hair is long and wild, tangled with sticks, leaves, and other pieces of the forest. Even in this form, he looks more wolf than man. His lips are twisted in a scowl while permanent wrinkles line his eyes as he stares me down.

At first, I think he may be Reid, the alpha—he definitely has the presence of one—but then my gaze falls upon the man in the middle.

No, not a man. A fucking mountain.

He’s massive, at least six foot five, towering over everyone else. I thought the Tarzan wolf was packing, but this one has arms as thick as tree trunks, and his tight black tee and jeans are doingnothingto keep my imagination from wandering. His hair is highlighted with streaks of lighter hazelnut and swept back from his face, showing off a square jaw shadowed with unshaven scruff, full lips, and straight nose. He’s so handsome, it’s a sin.

This has to be Reid. He reeks of strength and power.

When his dark eyes find me too, his mouth presses into a hard line, and his overall expression pinches in disappointment.

Anger flares awake inside me. Am I not what he expected? Not up to his standards? Yeah, well, he can just fuck all the way off.

I regret any time I wasted mentally ogling him.

Yep, I am going toreallyenjoy killing this bastard.

As the witches close in around me, Mae presses a hand to my back to send me ahead of the rest.

Reid also steps forward, and my breath catches.

Hating him would be easier if he wasn’t so goddamn good-looking.

As I study him, I find he’s sizing me up as well, and I try my hardest to look like a meek and fragile offering instead of someone who’s plotting his death seven different ways.

Just based on looks and first impressions, he doesn’t seem to be the oldest son out of the three. Tarzan does, but that may be because of his wild-man appearance. It’s too hard to tell for sure. Though, if I am right, then that would mean Reid surpassed his own brother in strength, dominance, and skill, and that makes him even more of a threat than I anticipated.

Mae raises her voice to address the wolves. “We have come here tonight to offer one of our own and a piece of our magic to the Redcliff Pack in exchange for peace.” Her voice trembles slightly, and I pray her nerves are seen as normal, given the situation.

My hands lace behind my back to help me appear even more fragile and as harmless as possible. Wolves are known to sense a challenge just by posture, so I need to play the part. I need to be nothing more than prey, ready to be devoured.

I shudder at the thought.

I just need to be patient and wait for the right chance—preferably when we’re alone so I can make an easier escape. As much as I’dloveto stab Reid in the heart right now, there are too many wolves watching, and a retaliation would mean even more bloodshed for the coven, despite what Mae says.

In my head, I see Carmen’s sweet face, feel the rage and need for revenge, all while thinking how incredibly handsome Reid looks standing there doing absolutely nothing. My arms shake as I envision myself enacting his death in one second and him naked on top of me the next. My thoughts are a conflicting jumbled mess.

I hate how sexy he looks.

I hate that I think he’s sexy.

“Our sacrifice tonight has offered herself up and gladly accepts the responsibility of this coveted position,” Mae continues, her words bringing me back to the present. “She understands the honor involved in such a position and is willing to serve you any way she can.”

The word “serve” hits my ear wrong, flinging images of bodies naked and tangled together. The kind I have to shake my head to clear out.

Magic amplifies Mae’s voice and sends it straight through my veins. I’ve forgotten the feeling of it. The way it slithers through the blood, making itself right at home with the rest of my body as an integral part of my makeup.

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