Page 25 of Hunted By Valentine

My eyes land on my red cheek, where Michael struck me. He must have been exceptionally pissed to risk leaving a bruise in a place anyone can see. For some fucked up reason, it makes me smile. I don’t know why, but there’s something to be said about misery loving company.

If I’m unraveling, it’s only fair my husband is too.

I turn away, sinking into the steaming bath, letting the water envelop me and soothe my aching muscles. Even though I close my eyes, my mind won’t stay quiet. The nightmare lingers, and yet, something else pushes through the fog.

A different kind of intensity. Not fear, but something… warmer.

His face forms in my thoughts unbidden—Valentine. That deep gaze, dark and intense, but so different from Michael’s. I try to push the image away, but it lingers, and with it, a strange feeling blooms in my chest. A spark of something I haven’t felt in years.

I find myself recalling things I didn’t even know I’d memorized; that intense gaze, the slight quirk of his lips. Even the timbre of his voice, deep and rich like aged whiskey. Of how he looks at me like… not just as though he’s really seeing me, but like I’mworthseeing. His mere presence always makes the air around me feel charged, alive.

Sinking deeper into the scalding water, I allow my mind to be pulled inexorably toward him.

A shiver runs through me, despite the warm water. I can almost feel his gaze on me now, intense and searching. In my mind’s eye, I trace the strong line of his jaw, the subtle curve of his lips. His eyes, those deep pools of darkness—one ringed with amber fire—seem to look right into my soul.

I think of the way he moves, confident and graceful. The breadth of his shoulders, the strength in his hand as he touched me at the restaurant. What would those hands feel like, touching my body with no clothes between us? Would it be enough to make me come? Probably not.

Yet, I was so close, the orgasm was within reach, while I was so close to my brother and his wife. The memory makes me gasp, my eyes flying open.

This hero worship, this... desire. It’s dangerous. Forbidden. And yet, there’s no stopping myself from wanting more. “Valentine,” I whisper, tasting his name on my lips. It feels like a prayer, a plea, a promise all at once. For the first time in years, I feel something other than fear and despair. I feel... alive.

For a moment, I forget the bruises. The fear. The looming threats. My hand slides beneath the water, tentative at first, as if this body isn’t really mine. But it is. For now, at this moment, it’s mine. My hand slides lower, tracing the curve of my hip beneath the water.

Another small gasp escapes my lips as unfamiliar sensations ripple through me. This isn’t like before—not the cold, mechanical act with one of my dad’s bodyguards when I was sixteen.

That wasn’t about arousal or romance; it was purely a decision born of desperation, a foolish attempt to claim some control over my body before it was taken from me. And since my dad didn’t allow any men outside of his employment near me, I didn’t have many options. Luckily, no one found out.

But this feeling coursing through me at the thought of Valentine is different. It’s somehow deeper, rawer… realer than anything I’ve felt before.

The water is hot, soothing the ache in my muscles, and as my fingers drift lower, a quiet gasp escapes my lips. I’m not thinking of Michael, or of the nightmare outside this door. It’s Valentine’s eyes that burn behind my closed lids, the weight of his gaze that makes my breath catch.

Driven by pure instinct, my fingers drift farther south, taking their time exploring. I bite my lip to stifle a moan, acutely aware of how wrong it would be to really touch myself to thoughts of him… Valentine.

Chapter 10

The Hunter

The morning air is crisp, biting, as if the very atmosphere knows the tension I carry within me. The school grounds are quiet, save for the distant chatter of students shuffling in. I remain in the shadows, unnoticed, as I often do. Watching. Waiting.

Ruby emerges from the street, moving toward the entrance with an unfamiliar determination. Her chin is raised slightly higher, her gaze sharper, more focused. It’s subtle, something most people wouldn’t notice. But I do.

She’s wearing black trousers that mold perfectly to her legs, paired with thin, high heels that click rhythmically against the pavement. Her long coat billows behind her, caught in the breeze, moving with a deliberate elegance. It’s a far cry from her usual attempts to blend into the background.

Today, she’s stepping out of the shadows, becoming something more.

I watch the tautness in her movements—her shoulders squared, her stride purposeful, almost as though she’s daring anyone to stop her. It’s a mask, one I recognize all too well. There’s tension there, coiled tight beneath the surface, waiting to snap.

Asshe nears the building, her gaze flickers over her shoulder, scanning her surroundings. A subtle check. She’s looking for something. Someone. And then her eyes find me.

For a brief moment, we lock eyes, and my breath halts. I expect her to falter, to give some indication of surprise or fear. But she doesn’t. Instead, she tilts her head just slightly, acknowledging my presence. Playing along.

The thrill it sends through me is immediate, dark, and consuming. She knows I’m watching. She’s aware of me, not as a threat, but as something inevitable. A force she can’t escape from. It’s no longer a question ofif,butwhen.

She continues forward, her heels echoing in the cold silence, each click driving deeper into my thoughts. I track her every movement, watching as her hips sway, as she grips the strap of the bag slung over her shoulder—a weekend bag. It piques my curiosity, but I push that thought aside for now.

There’s something different about her today, and I need to understand what it is.

Twenty minutes later, I enter the classroom. Ruby is already seated, her transformation complete. The poised elegance she wore moments ago has been stripped away.

---