Page 2 of Bleed the Shadows

For better or worse, I was in the Hunt.

Again.

Except this time I knew more. I’d planned and plotted.

This time I would win.

2

REMY

Bram was fucked up.That was obvious. He was the one who’d pushed Poe and me to come to the Hunt, but it hadn’t been because he was over Maeve.

It had been the opposite: she’d gotten under his skin, and he’d convinced himself that the only way to dig her out was to hunt another girl.

It had been stupid from the start — I could dig to my fucking bones and never get Maeve out from under my skin — but now she was standing right in front of us, her chin jutting defiantly in the air, her icy blue eyes flashing a dare.

Which was why Bram was fucked.

It was hard to tear my gaze away from her, especially now that I knew what was hiding under her black jeans and T-shirt. Because now I knew that her tits were full and soft, her nipples as pink as a rose. I knew how she looked spread out under apple trees ripe with fruit, her thighs open as Poe ate her pussy, her cheeks flushed as she came.

I knew that her mouth was lush and soft under mine, knew that her long black hair — now pulled into a high ponytail for the Hunt — felt like silk in my hands.

Bram swore and ran his hands through his hair, the girls across the room — including Maeve — blocked out by his hulking body.

“We have to hunt her again,” I said.

Poe sighed. “Obviously.”

Bram shook his head. “We can make her leave.”

“Based on what?” I asked.

“She didn’t fulfill her contract.” Bram’s voice was tight.

“She left us food,” Poe said.

Bram’s jaw ticked. “The deal was ninety days.”

If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought Bram was pissed when we’d come home to Maeve’s letter saying she wouldn’t finish out her ninety-day contract as our live-in cook.

But I did know better, and Bram was more than pissed, although I couldn’t put a name to what he was feeling because he probably couldn’t put a name to it himself.

Something had happened between them though, that much was clear. I was annoyed as fuck that he wouldn’t talk about it to me or Poe, especially since we had to suffer for his mistake — whatever it was — but there was no making Bram talk when he didn’t want to talk, and eventually we’d settled back into our old routine, the loft cold and empty, the neatly labeled containers of food in the fridge slowly disappearing.

“If we don’t hunt her, someone else will,” Poe pointed out.

Bram cursed again, then looked away, like that might change the situation. The other teams were discussing their strategy, debating which of the girls to hunt. We were running out of time to decide how to deal with this shit show.

“She’s the one we caught last time,” one of the Hawks muttered next to us.

The long pointed beaks of their bird masks made them look like demented Hawks, which come to think of it, was fitting. They were obnoxious and careless, diving into each Hunt likea trio of vultures on meth, whooping and hollering their way through the tunnels.

Bram spun on them. “She’s wearing our collar.”

Viggo sneered. “Then why’s she here?”

Bram stepped closer to him and closed his giant hand around Viggo’s neck.