Page 2 of Alien Huntsman (Alien Wolf Tales #2)
CHAPTER 2
K orrin strode through the crowded marketplace, scowling as humans instinctively moved out of his path. Their scent irritated his beast—except for hers. Her scent lingered, infuriatingly sweet and pleasant, like sun-warmed honey. His beast had wanted to lean closer, breathe in more of that sweetness.
He flexed his hands, still feeling the warmth where he’d steadied her. Small, soft, curvy in all the places that made his mouth go dry. Those big blue eyes looking up at him without fear, just surprise and… curiosity?
“Ridiculous,” he muttered, shouldering past a merchant whose cart jutted too far into the lane. Damn humans. Always in the way.
The man started to protest then caught sight of his face. The complaint died in his throat.
Ignoring the merchant, he made his way towards the tavern at the edge of the marketplace, still unable to shake the image of the girl. The way she’d knelt to comfort that child who’d barreled into her, scattering her fruit across the dirt. No anger. No harsh words. Just gentle hands and a smile that had turned her already beautiful face radiant. He knew how rare it was for someone to show such concern for a child.
After his father died, his Vultor heritage made him a frequent target for adults as well as other children. Until he reached an age where that heritage made him bigger and stronger than any human male. The overt cruelty disappeared behind suspicious looks and nervous evasion.
She was only kind because it was a human child, he told himself, but the words didn’t ring true. She hadn’t looked up at him as if he were to be hated, or even feared.
He slammed open the tavern door harder than necessary, causing conversations to come to an abrupt halt as he entered. The familiar silence followed him to a corner table where he dropped into a chair, back to the wall, facing the entrance.
“Ale?” The barkeep called, after a nervous look around.
He gave a quick jerk of his head. The barkeep drew a glass and tried to hand it to the barmaid who immediately shook her head. Humans. His lip curled.
The barkeep brought the ale instead, depositing it on the table and immediately retreating. At least the ale was drinkable—their success with brewing was one of the few benefits of sharing the planet with humans. He sat back, sipping the ale slowly as he kept a watchful eye on the other patrons. Most of them were watching him just as closely, although they tried to hide it.
The nature of his work—tracking down missing people—meant that he’d spent a considerable amount of time amongst humans, but he would never be foolish enough to trust them. It was easier in Port Cantor because the presence of the spaceport ensured a variety of alien races. Here in the hinterlands, the settlements were almost entirely human.
As he finished the ale, he wondered idly what this next job would entail. The specifics didn’t particularly concern him—as long as the job paid well. Coin was coin, and humans were humans. Selfish, greedy, treacherous. He had no issue using his particular set of skills against them.
A pair of merchants at the bar kept glancing his way, whispering theories about his presence. He caught fragments—“bounty hunter” and “dangerous” and “should tell the mayor.”
Let them talk. Their fear kept them at a distance—which did not bode well for Seren’s current project. His alpha had been negotiating with the mayor for a formal trade agreement with the village. As if humans could ever see the Vultor as anything but monsters to be feared or resources to be exploited. Then again, the prospect of profit was a powerful motivator.
“It’s better than more bloodshed,” Seren had told him the last time they talked. “They need to understand that we’re more than the stories they tell. And we—you—need to know that they’re not all alike.”
He’d merely grunted in response. He’d seen too much of human nature to share his hope. They smiled while plotting betrayal. They promised peace while sharpening knives.
The tavern door swung open, admitting a gust of warm air and the village’s self-important mayor. The female paused, scanning the room until her gaze landed on him. Her mouth pinched into a thin line before she nodded stiffly and approached a table of well-dressed merchants.
Even the humans who sought Vultor assistance viewed them as tools, not allies. Necessary evils. Weapons to be aimed at problems then quickly dismissed.
And that suited him perfectly. He had no interest in Seren’s dreams of cooperation. He’d take their coin, complete whatever tasks they couldn’t handle themselves, and leave their petty settlements behind. The less time spent among humans, the better.
Yet the memory of warm blue eyes and a gentle smile tugged at him. One exception in a sea of contempt.
Annoyed at the direction of his thoughts, he tossed a few coins onto the scarred wooden table and pushed his chair away from the wall. He’d wasted enough time with these humans and their suspicious glances. The tavern air had grown too thick with their fear-scent and whispers.
Outside, the sun was halfway to its peak. Time for his meeting. He automatically dropped a hand to the knife on his belt, fingering the well-worn handle. His own natural weapons were usually more than sufficient, but it never hurt to be prepared.
The village marketplace still bustled with activity as vendors called out their wares and haggled with customers, and he found himself eyeing the fruit stall where the small human female had paused to talk to the vendor. Before he could question the impulse, his feet carried him toward the weathered wooden stand.
The vendor—a stocky old male with grey hair and weathered hands—looked up as he approached. Instead of the usual widening eyes and nervous fidgeting, the male merely raised his eyebrows.
“What can I get for you?” the male asked, straightening a pile of apples.
He studied the selection, feeling oddly self-conscious. “One of those,” he said, pointing to a ripe pear.
The vendor nodded, selecting a particularly large specimen and holding it out. “Good choice. Sweet as honey, this one.”
He reached for his coin pouch, but paused when the male chuckled.
“You’re the one who bumped into Tessa earlier, aren’t you?”
“Tessa?” he repeated blankly.
“Pretty girl with dark curls and blue eyes?” the vendor said, and his face must have betrayed his recognition because the old male laughed again. “She has that effect on people. Every unattached man in this village is half in love with her—and quite a few of the attached ones—and she never even notices. But she noticed you.”
“I am Vultor,” he growled, annoyed at his gratified reaction to the old male’s words.
“I’m pretty sure she noticed that,” the male said dryly. “But I don’t think that’s all she noticed.”
“Nonsense,” he snapped, dropping a coin into the vendor’s palm.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” the old male called after him.
The female—Tessa, her name was Tessa—was not his problem. The only human who concerned him was the one waiting for him in one of the big houses behind the market square.
He bit into the fruit as he walked, sweet juice flooding his mouth. Would Tessa taste as sweet? No. Humans weren’t sweet. He scowled at nothing in particular, annoyed at the direction of his thoughts. He was here on business, nothing more.
Following the directions in the message he’d received, he turned into the alley that ran between the back of the shops lining one side of the market square and the back of three large houses. Their windows gleamed with actual glass—a display of wealth in this backwater place.
He slipped in through the gate to the courtyard and crossed to the service entrance, noting the polished brass knocker and fresh paint on the door. Someone wanted to impress, even back here.
He rapped three times, sharp and deliberate.
Quiet footsteps approached from inside, then the door swung open to reveal a human female, tall and slender with pale blonde hair swept into an elaborate style. She was wearing an expensive dress that emphasized her figure and revealed the upper swell of her breasts.
She was attractive enough, but there was something cold in her beauty, something calculated that set his teeth on edge. His enhanced sense of smell picked up the scent of cosmetics beneath her heavy perfume. A closer look at her carefully made up face revealed that she would no longer be considered in the first flush of youth, especially out here in the settlements where females married young.
“You must be Korrin,” she said coolly, but her eyes trailed down over his body. He recognized the look—some human females were intrigued by Vultor males, even though they considered them little better than wild beasts. This one was definitely interested, a sultry note entering her voice as she continued. “I’m Lenora. Do come in.”
He stepped past her into a well-appointed kitchen. This room also emphasized the owner’s wealth, appliances that must have been imported from Port Cantor mingling with the more usual wood-fired stove and hand pump. But he also noted a few cracks in the wealthy facade—the paint was fading and one of the expensive appliances was clearly broken. Not that he cared, as long as she still had enough coins to pay him.
He kept his expression neutral as she led him up a narrow servants’ staircase. Here the paint was not faded, but chipped and scuffed.
“I apologize for bringing you the back way, but I’d hate to cause any… gossip about your presence.”
She smiled at him, but there was an artificial quality to her smile, nothing like the soft smile of the girl in the marketplace. Fuck. Why was he thinking about her again? He only grunted in response, uninterested in human gossip.
The parlor she led him to was ostentatious—overstuffed furniture, heavy curtains, and shelves cluttered with useless trinkets. Humans and their need to display wealth. Pathetic.
“Please, sit.” She gestured to a chair that looked too delicate for his frame, but he remained where he was.
“I prefer to stand. Let’s discuss why you summoned me.”
Her smile faltered momentarily before she composed herself. She moved to a small cabinet and poured amber liquid into two crystal glasses.
“A drink?” She offered one to him.
“No.”
Her nostrils flared slightly at his refusal. “Very well.” She took a long sip from her own glass. “I’ll be direct. I have a… problem. My stepdaughter.”
He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“She’s become… inconvenient,” the female continued, swirling her drink. “I need her gone. You understand?”
Gone? Usually he was sent to find someone, not to make them disappear.
“What you’re asking for comes at a price.”
He caught a creak from outside the door and held up his hand, then frowned as a delicious scent drifted in from the hallway.
“What is it?” she asked, but he ignored the question, listening to soft little footsteps hurry away as a terrible suspicion washed over him.
“Do you have an image of your stepdaughter? I need to know who you want me to deal with,” he added.
The female made a little moue of distaste, then pulled a small miniature from the back of a drawer.
“My late husband insisted. I only kept it because he seemed to think that the artist’s work would increase in value.”
He took the miniature, managing to avoid her hand in the process, and swore internally as the picture confirmed what he’d already suspected. The girl from the market—younger, but with the same dark curls and striking blue eyes.
“I can pay,” the female added. “I just need her to disappear.”
“Permanently?” He kept his voice flat, emotionless, even though his beast growled, and she waved a dismissive hand.
“I don’t need details. Just make her vanish. Take her deep into the forest. Leave her for the beasts. I don’t care how.”
She walked to a painting on the wall, swung it aside to reveal a small safe. After working the combination, she pulled out a velvet pouch and removed a delicate gold necklace. The small diamonds woven into the intricate setting caught the light as she held it up.
“I prefer gold,” he snapped, and she sighed.
“I am a little… short on disposable income right now, but I assure you it’s genuine, and quite valuable. It belonged to my late husband’s first wife.”
“Doesn’t it belong to her daughter?” The question emerged before he could prevent it and she shrugged.
“Unfortunately. I even suggested we have the jewels reset but he refused. But since he was so determined that she have it, it seems only fitting that it pay for her… removal.”
He took the necklace, holding it up to the light. He knew enough about jewels to recognize the value of the piece.
“Why her?” he asked, keeping his tone disinterested.
“Does it matter?” Her smile turned icy. “She’s in my way. That’s all you need to know.”
The girl was human, not his concern, but he remembered her gentle smile, the way she’d spoken to that child, her softness beneath his hands.
“I don’t kill innocents,” he said flatly, dropping the necklace back into the pouch and tossing it onto a nearby table. “Find someone else.”
“I’m not asking you to kill her. Just… make her disappear.” She stepped closer, her perfume assaulting his senses, and gave him a seductive smile. “Surely a big, strong Vultor like yourself would have no problem with that.”
She placed a hand on his arm, trailing her fingers along his bicep, and his beast growled.
“I could make it worth your while in… other ways too. I know the stories. I know that a Vultor male can be quite… demanding?—”
This time the growl escaped and her eyes widened. For a moment, she looked uncertain but she didn’t step away from him. Then her fingers slid lower and he lost the last shreds of his patience. Grabbing her wrist, he snarled in her face.
“You are not my female. Do not touch me.”
Anger flashed in her eyes before she masked it with a cold smile. “Very well. If you won’t help me, there are others who will. Men who don’t share your… restraint.”
He’d been about to stalk out, but her words made him pause. He’d met the type she meant—mercenaries who’d do anything for coin, who took pleasure in cruelty. Males who wouldn’t just kill the girl but would enjoy hurting her first.
“I’d prefer not to involve a human man in this affair,” she continued, seeing his hesitation. “They lack discretion. But if you refuse…”
His jaw clenched. He wasn’t responsible for this human girl. He owed her nothing.
And yet…
“Fine,” he growled. “I’ll take her away from here. But I choose where and when and how.”
She smiled triumphantly. “Of course. I don’t care about the method, only the result.” She pushed the pouch back towards him. “Do we have a deal?”
He took it, hating himself even as he did. “Yes.”
“You may choose the specific time, but it needs to be done as soon as possible.” Her eyes gleamed with malicious satisfaction. “I’ll simply say she ran away, and I’m sure no one will question it.”
He nodded once, then turned to leave, already turning over plans in his head. No matter what he did with the girl, she’d be better off than remaining here with this vicious female.