Page 67 of Hunted By Valentine

My cock pulses as I slip the fabric over my head. It’s not sexual per se, it’s the knowledge that I reign supreme that sends a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure through my body.

I return to the car, opening the trunk once again to take in Michael’s lifeless form. He doesn’t stir as I drag him from the vehicle, his body slack against mine. I hoist him over my shoulder with ease, walking toward the cabin.

When I bring him inside, I pause at the door. There’s something in the air—something cold, electric. It’s anticipation, I realize. Michael stirs slightly as I lower him into the chair, his head lolling to the side. The drugs are wearing off, though he’s still groggy.

The straps snap into place, securing his wrists and ankles. His head jerks as I tighten the last one around his forearm, and he groans, blinking as iftrying to clear a fog from his mind. Confusion flickers across his face first, then the slow creep of realization.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, as though he’s afraid of what will happen if he speaks too loudly. He flinches when I take a step forward, the sound of my shoes on the floor like gunshots in the heavy silence.

I don’t respond since there’s no point. His pleas mean nothing to me. I circle the chair, my movements slow and deliberate. I feel his eyes on me, his breathing becoming more erratic with each step I take. He’s trembling now, the straps on his wrists digging into his skin as he pulls against them in a futile attempt to escape.

“Do you know why you’re here?” I ask, my voice low, almost a whisper. The question hangs in the air, thick with meaning.

He swallows hard, his throat bobbing as he struggles to find his voice. “N-no.” His voice is thick, slurred. He tugs at the restraints, but they hold tight. His panic grows, eyes darting around the room, taking in the hanging chains, the tools, the bloodstained floor.

I stop in front of him, my gaze locking onto his. “You interfered with my hunt. Not once, but twice,” I say, my voice cold and unforgiving as I think back to the day I noticed the red tint to her cheek. I should have punished him back then, made sure he understood the rules. “You thought you could hurt her and walk away unscathed?”

His eyes widen further, the realization of what’s happening crashing over him like a wave. He shakes his head violently, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. “No… no, please. I didn’t know. I-I…” He swallows. “… I didn’t think it would matter.”

My jaw tightens as I study the pathetic excuse for a man who thought he could touch her, hurther,and that there would be no consequences. He thought himself above the contract he signed with me.

“You signed the contract.” My voice is deceptively smooth now. “Yet, you defied me and interfered in my hunt. That can’t go unpunished.”

His breath quickens. The panic is setting in now, his brain racing as the reality of his situation begins to take root. He pulls at the straps again, harder this time, but they don’t budge. He’s trapped, and he knows it.

“L-look,” he stammers, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. “I’ll pay you more… yes, I’ll double your fee. Let’s talk about this—”

I chuckle softly, cutting him off. His desperation is amusing. “Oh, Michael. This isn’t about the money.”

His eyes widen, darting from my face to the tools on the walls, to the chains hanging overhead. He’s trying to piece together what’s happening, but he’s too slow. “She’s my wife,” he roars, shaking his head as though denial or anger will help him out of the chair.

“And you hired me to kill her,” I state. “I told you to leave her alone. Yet, you went after her. Why?”

“Please,” he whimpers. “I didn’t know—”

“Why?” I ask again.

He looks down at my shoes, too scared to meet my gaze. “She… the bitch cheated on me.”

This piques my interest. “What makes you say that?” I ask. In all the scenarios I’ve imagined, Michael acting out of petty jealousy wasn’t one of them.

“She was out until late, and she wasn’t with her family—”

“How do you know?” I ask, interrupting him.

“My brother saw her at a bar. She entered the bathroom with some guy. When she finally came home, I saw the fucking bite mark.” Michael’s voice rises with indignation. “The bitch needed to be reminded of her place.”

Something stirs in the pit of my stomach, an unfamiliar emotion that makes it hard to swallow. Is that… guilt? Surely not. I thought I was careful, making sure no one saw me follow her to the bathroom. Seems I was wrong.

But even if it was the mark I left on his wife that made him attack her, he’s still responsible for his own actions. And so was Ruby for making me fuck her. But… there’s no denying the role I played.

Curiously, even as I feel bad for being the reason Michael beat her, I don’t regret it—don’t regret fucking her, or tasting her blood when I bit her. In fact, the memory alone is enough to make my cock stir again.

“But I… the offer to pay you more still stands. I’m sorry for interfering with your, ahh, hunt.”

I clench my fists, the anger boiling over as I stare down at him. It’s insulting that he’s even trying to buy his way out of this situation. Turning away from him, my eyes scanning the room until they land on my ultimate weapon.

Without a word, I stalk over to the bow and remove it from its mount, the smooth wood feeling cool and familiar in my hands. I select an arrow from the quiver on the floor, my movements deliberate and precise as I notch it onto the bowstring.

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