Page 71 of Hunted By Valentine

With no cabs in sight, I’m left to my own devices, my feet carrying me toward the mysterious loft in Brooklyn. Each step resonates with a quiet determination, the pain in my ribs a muted symphony beneath my skin.

As I traverse the city, the darkness seems to close in around me, the shadows whispering secrets of their own. My heart pounds in my chest, the anticipation of seeing Valentine again a relentless drumbeat in my ears.

The cold air nips at my exposed skin, as the icy wind whistles through the concrete canyons, its mournful song echoing in my ears. Right now, as I walk alone, the city feels like a living, breathing entity, its heartbeat pulsating in time with my own.

Chin tucked into my coat, each breath I exhale mists before me, dissipating into the frigid air. My boots crunch against the remnants of icy slush, the sound echoing in the eerily quiet streets. The cold gnaws at my bones, seemingly sinking through my skin, and my fingers ache inside my pockets.

But with each step, I draw closer to him, the magnetic pull of his presence growing stronger. The pain in my body fades to a dull roar, drowned out by the thunderous rhythm of my heart.

AsI cross the Brooklyn Bridge, the wind howls through the cables, it’s wailing a warning I choose not to heed. My thoughts swirl, as frigid as the air around me.

My phone buzzes halfway across the bridge.

Valentine: Your time is almost up, Pet.

Even though he never gave me a deadline, I quicken my pace, ignoring the way the wind slices through my jacket as if it’s made of tissue paper. My heart races, fueled by a potent need to prove myself.

As I finally reach the loft, my body trembles uncontrollably. I grab my phone, meaning to text him, but as I look up I realize there’s no need. I’d recognize the silhouette leaning against the building anywhere.

“Valentine,” I gasp. Without a second thought, I rush toward him, my heart pounding in my chest.

Our bodies collide, and I wrap my arms around his back while breathing him in—musk, leather, and something indescribably Valentine. Relief washes over me like a tidal wave, and I feel grounded, safe in his arms.

With my face pressed against his chest, I murmur, “I’ve missed you.” All too quickly, he unwinds my arms and takes a step back from me.

He looks different tonight, dressed down in jeans and a dark shirt. The change is surprising, yet it suits him.

The warmth of the loft envelops me as he leads me inside, a stark contrast to the freezing cold outside. Valentine shuts the door with a firm click, his gaze sweeping over me, taking in every detail.

His voice, sharp and growling, pierces the air. “Why the fuck did you walk? You should have asked me to pick you up.” His words, a potent mix of anger and care, catch me off guard.

I flinch, but not from fear. For the first time, I see a glimmer of something more than control and dominance in Valentine’s eyes. It’s disorienting, and I can’t help but feel a rush of relief as I fully realize that I’m not the only one who cares.

My heart races, and I’m unable to form coherent thoughts. My sole focus is on the overwhelming sensation of being near him, close enough to feel his breath, to inhale his scent.

“I had to see you,” I reply. “There were no cabs around, and I—”

Valentine cuts me off with an angry scoff. “So you decided to walk the streets of New York alone in the middle of the night. What were you thinking?”

“I c-couldn’t wait.” I force the words through my chattering teeth.

His expression softens, and the amber ring around his left iris looks like it’s pulsating. It’s probably just a play of the light as he moves closer. “You walked all the way from Jack’s place to mine just to see me?” His voice is smooth like velvet.

“How did you…” Shaking my head, I trail off. Of course, my sister-in-law would have told him where I’ve been, and probably also why. “Carolina told you everything, didn’t she?” I ask, needing to know for sure.

“She did,” he growls. “Are you okay?”

“I am now,” I breathe.

“I don’t believe you,” he says. Then, before I can argue that I am better, he adds, “Strip for me.”

His command sends a shiver down my spine, the air in the room thick with tension. I don’t even consider disobeying. My fingers move on their own, wasting no time shedding my layers of clothing one by one until I stand in front of him, completely naked.

The scars from Michael’s many brutal attacks are all laid bare. Valentine’s dark eyes bore into mine as I stand before him, completely exposed and vulnerable. His gaze is intense, almost predatory, yet there’s a tenderness that I hadn’t expected.

He takes a step closer, the heat of his body radiating against my bare skin. I shiver as his fingers trace a path along my collarbone, down to the bruises that mar my torso. Then he moves behind me, and I whimper as I feel his lips on the stitches on the back of my head.

Rather than lingering, he steps in front of me again. My heart races as he presses his lips to the first bruise, the contact of his soft lips and the scruff on his chin makes me moan. He kisses each bruise, each mark, with reverence.

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