Page 25

Twenty-Three

ALEC

I didn’t mean to rest, considering it was only the other night I had. Clearly, dealing with Sinclair’s antics is exhausting enough it drove me to.

When I get up, I grab the shoebox of lies that’ll hopefully spark something so big in her, it’ll be a few flames. With it, I head towards her room, sending a rapid knock against the door, disbelieving my own actions. Although I have no qualms about seeing her undressed, we have bigger things to deal with than arguing.

After a moment, there’s still no answer.

“Sinclair, I was warning, not asking.”

I slip the key into the door at the precise second my senses pick up on two things: the whoosh of wind and the slightly faded scent of my witch.

I’m inside instantly, the box dropping to the ground in my rush towards the destroyed window.

She can’t be that stupid…

I peer through the glassless, damaged opening, spotting the two wingback chairs on the ground, one with its legs broken, and the scattering of her clothing, towels, and her grandmother’s book.

She is. She’s that stupid.

Tricky fucking witch. I’d smile if I weren’t so pissed. Could appreciate her determination and creativity if I didn’t dislike it so much. Her determination truly would make an excellent vampire, if she didn’t have so much of that witchy cunning.

I step from the window, the ground and my feet coming together in a slight thud with impact. I study the items all around me, and then the grounds bathed in nightfall.

Sinclair knew precisely what she was doing. She planned and waited until I would be unable to come for her, but all she’s done is piss me off. No matter how far she’s run in however long it’s been since her daring escape, I will catch her. And when I do…

A few different outcomes flit through my mind, each one more inviting than the last.

Finding her is my first task. Punishing her will come later.

Hunt.

Chase.

Kill.

Hunt.

Chase.

Feed.

My senses attune to her. My eyes shut for a moment, picturing the direction my scared little witch took off to. My nose picks up her trail on the wind, as though the very nature witches pray to is on my side rather than hers. My fangs lengthen, readying to attack, and my eyes are taken over with a bloodred coating as the monster is released from his cage.

Harlow Sinclair is no longer revenge for my sister’s death. She’s my prey.

And I’ll soon remind her why running from a vampire is a bad fucking idea.

It’s dark with very little light seeping through the treetops. It’s cloudy tonight, so the nearly full moon is mostly covered. It’s appropriate that the darkness is on my side, which has me wondering how she’s faring with vision equivalent to a mortal’s.

Her trail zigzags through the forest. Crafty witch, but smart too, as she’s obviously trying to confuse my tracking abilities by not running in a straight line. At one point, she doubles back before taking a different direction. All these tricks are costing her; she won’t be as far as she could be without the detours.

Scurrying scared, knowing eventually I’d figure out her ploy. Probably getting tired by now, considering her body is no better than a mortal’s, and without magick, she has no advantage. Between us, I’m able to go all night, while at some point, she’ll collapse.

Hunt.

Chase.

Kill.

Her scent is stronger near a tree, and I suspect this is where she took a break. Without water, surely she won’t be able to go on much longer. I continue in the direction her scent continues, pushing through thick shrubbery.

In the branches, blowing with the wind, are strands of orange-red. Hair that’s evidently been ripped from her scalp during her determination to go the most difficult route. Chuckling, I unloop them from the branches and release them into the wind. They blow behind me, in the direction of my castle, exactly where Sinclair will be locked within when I catch her.

After the hair disappears from view, I dart off again. With every step, her scent intensifies. I’ve doubled what she ran in hours in mere minutes.

Yet she believed she could escape me? I’ll prove why that was a stupid idea.

Hunt.

Chase.

Kill.

I suck in a breath through my mouth, swallowing the scent of her fear. It prickles the roof of my mouth. Have I ever craved a being’s blood as much as I do hers? No, and I doubt there will ever be anyone else who makes me so ravenous. And it is her—all her. I’d been around dozens of Sinclairs, and not one of them had me dreaming of draining her dry in every manner possible.

A lifetime of self-preservation demands I don’t believe Freya’s claim that I’m too old for the weakened cure to be effective. But the short few days of craving my witch wipes away all that sensibility and demands I consume.

After another few steps, my ears pick up something that suggests I’m close.

Her tiny pants. Her breathing is ragged, lined with exhaustion and fear.

I smile.

Continuing at a walking pace, I catch up quicker than she can escape. Through the tree trunks, I spot her, hair streaming behind her. I match my next few steps to her heartbeat, memorizing the sound as it ricochets through my brain and sanity, demanding I feed.

I flick my tongue against a fang. Soon.

I can’t fucking wait…but only after I play with my food. After all, that hunt passed too quickly. She made the rules for round one, so now, it’s my turn to design the second round.

Unfortunately for her, I don’t play fair nor easy.

I let her run a few more feet, wallowing in the sense of satisfaction that she’s managed to escape. It’s thrilling, seeing her believe she’s a winner in a game I’ve been playing since before her birth.

Silly little witch doesn’t even peek behind her as she flees. So confident that she has this. She pushes between two trees when I streak by, my steps cracking on nearby twigs.

She gasps, spinning, but I’m already gone, shielded by the shadows of trees too far for her weak eyes to pick up.

Once she starts sprinting another direction, I do it again, and she yet again stops, scanning the trees.

“Alec, stop fucking around! I know it’s you.”

It could be the wolves and bears that also roam these woods, but unfortunately for her, I’m the most dangerous hunter on her trail.

She starts running again, her feet making all sorts of mess in how they kick up sticks and leaves. This time when I catch up, she slams into me, face in my chest, her curse disrupting the silent woods.

Once regaining her footing, she stares, finally understanding what she’s done. “I, I had to. You would have too if you were in my position.”

She doesn’t wait for my answer before bolting, this time towards the right. Now it’s adorable defiance, because the game’s up. I’ve caught her, so she seriously can’t believe she’ll escape now?

By the next tree, she glances over her shoulder, but I haven’t moved. I wait for her to face forward before robbing her of escape once again.

“You’ve fucked up, Hellion, and now you have to pay the price of your carelessness.”

She backs up, blown eyes darting around as the perfect little prey. For every two steps she takes, I take one. Her attention scurries to me like a scared bunny when sticks crack beneath my weight.

“Y-you can’t attack. You can’t drink from me. You’ll die.”

I tilt my head, focusing on her pulse. “Sounds like you care.”

“I don’t. It’s a warning.”

A warning that not only will I ignore, but I’ll gamble my immortality on if only for a better taste than the one she forced on me the other night.

“I have a warning for you as well.” My chin lowers, lips lifting until she can see exactly how extended my fangs are. How hungry she’s made me. “I have your scent memorized. You can run all night long, but there’s nowhere you’ll hide that I won’t be able to find you.”

She licks her lips, her nervous energy only feeding my hunger that much more. “I only have to make it ’til sunrise.”

I glance between the trees and towards the horizon. “Night fell not even an hour ago. You have a long night of evading me if you wish to make it until morning.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do.”

I chuckle, the sound slithering through the trees and wrapping her in my taunt. “Please do, Miss Sinclair, and make it fun for me while you’re at it.”

“F-fun?” She jumps a few more steps, almost tripping on her ass.

“Fun,” I repeat, continuing my slow but steady pace towards her. “Vampires are natural predators, and you, little Sinclair, are my prey. You made yourself so the second you thought to escape my home. So please, run, and allow me the thrill of the hunt, because when I catch you, you’ll regret every step you’ve taken during this ridiculous attempt.”

I pause, waiting for her to rush off, but she continues watching me with the same intensity I am her. Guarded, her back stiff, hands rubbing on her thighs. Clearly she needs more incentive.

“Run, Hellion. Run. ”

This time, she obeys, streaking through the forest, cutting between trees and foliage, her pants music to my fucking ears. Her heartbeat lays the precise path I’ll soon follow—but only after a few moments. When she gets far enough away she believes she has a shot, that’s when I’ll go.

Her scent eventually fades, as does the sound of her attempt. I check my phone, expecting minutes to have passed since letting her go, but nearly a full hour has instead. Time passes so quickly when a thrilling hunt is on.

No matter, because the farther I have to track her, the tastier victory will be.

The hungrier I grow.

I take off in the direction she did, trailing her scent. This time, it’s a straight line because she assumed I’d be close behind her. She got decently far, I’ll admit, but I catch up in mere minutes, spotting her bent over between the trees.

Now, now, you shouldn’t have stopped running. You make it too easy.

Like she’s heard my thoughts, she begins sprinting again, but this time I don’t let her get far before I’m on her, arms wrapping her waist and taking us both to the ground. I spin so I’m beneath her, cushioning the fall so the forest floor doesn’t hurt her, but quickly roll us both over until I’m crouched above her on my hands and knees.

The faintest streak of fear flits through her gaze at the same time her scent alters to something spicier, something forbidden—lust. I wrench her head to the side, clearing the path for me to make the single stupidest, and probably most fatal, mistake of my immortal life, but unable to stop myself either.

Without rhyme or reason, without a counter to every reason I shouldn’t, I jam my fangs into her neck and begin drinking.

Euphoria races through me.

Bliss.

Thirst—and the answer to it.

Feed. Drain her dry.

And then something else. Another feeling—another sensation. One as unwelcoming as everything else Sinclair has brought to my life.

Protect. Care for her. Keep her safe.

Immediately followed by the sensation of being pushed off the edge. Of being no longer myself. Of being ripped apart, shredded from the inside out, all by this woman.

No…no, it’s impossible.

A word slices through me, clearer than anything else, awakening instincts I’ve never before felt.

Bride.

My Bride

My mate…