Page 74 of The Devil's Hunt

"Daddy, I need to use the restroom. Can you excuse us for a moment?" I pleaded, feeling Archer's grip on my hand tighten.

"Of course, Mila. Take your time," my father agreed, and with a nod, he walked off to continue his mingling.

Archer led me away. I looked up at him, feeling vulnerable and exposed, knowing that my father had just sized him up as an opponent and a threat.

I waited until we were out of earshot of my father before turning toward Archer and giving him an exasperated look. "What the hell was that?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean. That weird, tension-filled conversation with my father. Your father is running against my father? That would have been nice to know before we got here."

"You're right. I'm sorry. I meant to talk to you about it on the way here."

"I shouldn't have brought you. Things just got more complicated."

"What do you mean you shouldn't have brought me?" he asked angrily.

"I am fucking the son of my dad's opponent, and you are fucking your father's opponent's daughter. It's like some fucked-up teen movie." I threw my hands up in frustration, tears pricking my eyes.

Archer grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me toward him. "I don't give a fuck about some stupid election. I don't care if your father likes me, and you shouldn't either. What has your father ever done for you except dampen your light and parade you around in front of all his perverted colleagues, forcing you to smile and flirt with them on his behalf?"

"That's not fair," I whispered, feeling the sting of his words, even though I knew they were true. "You don't know my father."

"I know I don't like how he treats you. He doesn't care about you," Archer growled, his eyes burning with anger. "But I do, Mila. I care about you more than anything in this world. I would never hurt you, no matter what my father or your father say or do."

I stared into his eyes, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions I was feeling. Part of me wanted to run away, to escape the intensity of the situation. But another part of me just wanted to be in his arms, to feel safe and protected.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I could feel his need for me as we poured all of our emotions into each other.

"You're mine, Mila," he whispered, his voice full of possession and love.

I smiled against his lips. "I love hearing you say that."

"I'll say it as often as you need."

"Should we head back and try to avoid your father?" I teased, admittedly hoping to avoid him.

"Too late," Archer mumbled, his gaze looking behind me.

I turned around. My eyes were met with an older version of Archer. His once-dark hair was now dotted with strands of gray, and his eyes were blue, not green. He walked toward us with confident strides, the woman on his arm a mirror image of Archer. Her long,dark hair cascaded down her back, and her intense green eyes locked onto mine like Archer's always did. They pierced through my skin, embedding themselves into the fibers of my soul, just like her son's did. The two of them exuded an aura of strength and power, making it impossible for me to look away.

"Archer," I breathed nervously, my heart thudding in my chest.

"Mila, this is my father, Cassian King, and my mother, Eleanor.”

Archer's father stopped in front of us. His expression hardened as he locked eyes with me. "Mila, I presume?" he asked, his voice cold and calculated.

I hesitated for a moment, not knowing how to respond. Archer pulled me closer, his hand tightening on my waist. "Yes, sir. It's nice to meet you," I said, offering a polite smile to Cassian.

Cassian pulled Archer aside while Eleanor led me toward their table and gestured for me to sit.

Eleanor leaned closer to me, her eyes gentle as she took in my features. "You look just like your mother, Mila."

"You knew my mother?" I couldn't help but feel a pang of hurt at the thought of my mother. She died when I was seven, but the pain of losing your mother never really left.

"I would like to think so. We used to be close friends before she passed. You and Archer used to play together when you were little."

I looked at her, shocked, and then at Archer, who seemed to be in a heated exchange with his father. "We did?" I asked, turning my attention back to Eleanor.

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