Page 1 of Fated to the Hunter (Xarc’n Warriors #13)

The loincloth-clad Xarc’n warrior brandished a pair of glowing twin blades, ready for the giant alien bug.

The oversized winged scorpion was already wounded; one of its wings hung shredded, a ragged hole torn through the membrane.

It shrieked as it swooped, claws extended.

The hunter dodged with practiced ease, and the creature slammed into the center of the market square, sending up a cloud of dirt and debris.

I backed away, heart pounding, and ducked behind the counter. Garrett, my market stall-mate and fellow bugpocalypse survivor, looked ready to balk.

The creature’s head swiveled, mandibles twitching, scanning for its target. What it saw instead was a market full of humans. Yummy, tasty humans. It ignored the Xarc’n hunter and instead turned several times, as if looking for the most delicious morsel.

As it did, it discarded its now-useless wings, shaking them off.

That always creeped me out. Like, really creeped me out. Imagine breaking your arm and deciding the best fix was to tear it right the fuck off. Nope. Nope nope nope!

Shudder.

Its baleful glare landed on our stall.

“Oh my god! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Garrett shrieked as he ran, making a beeline for the closest building.

The idiot! Everyone knew the flyers hunted by sight, and the best thing to do was hide and stay as immobile as possible! But Garrett had panicked, and now the flyer’s attention was solely on him. It charged.

I gawked at the monster barreling toward us like a freight train. I’d seen flyers before, but it was the first time I’d seen one quite from this angle.

The creatures looked like giant winged scorpions, minus the pincers, which somehow made them worse.

Their sinuous bodies were split into five distinct segments, with two pairs of wings sprouting from the one closest to the head.

The next three sections had clawed and barbed legs, each pair strong enough to carry off a child or a small adult.

The final segment curved up and over their backs, ending in a massive spike.

Not a stinger, but a spike meant for impaling their prey.

But from the front? All I saw was death.

I froze behind the counter, barely breathing, praying that stillness would make me invisible. My heart pounded so hard I was sure it would give me away.

The creature from hell jerked to stop just yards from the booth, like it had slammed into an invisible brick wall.

It took me a beat to realize the hunter had grabbed onto its tail. The alien warrior grappled with the length, holding on with his own sharp claws. He dug in with his feet, also clawed, and yanked, the muscles on his arms bulging. The flyer whipped around its attention fully on the hunter again.

“Isn’t that the new hunter that came with Harb’k last time?” whispered Holly, who was manning the refreshments stand next door. She hid under her counter, peeking over the edge just like I was.

“Yeah, that’s him,” I whispered back. “They say he used to fight the scourge up in the Rockies in Canada.”

“Did you know Harb’k is mated now?” Holly asked, a note of disappointment in her voice. “To some nomad girl.”

“Yeah, I know.”

I’d seen Harb’k and his new mate earlier this morning setting up the booth for their group. Zoey seemed really nice.

“It’s a shame. Guess he’s off the market now.”

“Yeah,” I said, relaxing a bit now that it seemed the hunter had this all under control. “Maybe you can crush on this guy instead. Look at those muscles!”

“Mmm, this one is pretty good too. But is he good with kids like Harb’k?”

I grinned. That was a pretty convincing selling point. The kids here at the compound, both the human and mixed Xarc’n ones, loved their uncle Harby. “Maybe you can ask him when he’s done with the flyer.”

I turned back to the action. Yes. This Hunter was just as easy on the eyes as Harb’k. But unlike Holly, I wasn’t in the market for a Xarc’n hunter boyfriend. And it wasn’t because I didn’t find them attractive.

Hell! Look at this fine specimen! He was dragging the flyer, a creature the size of a truck, like it weighed nothing at all.

Aside from the signature leather loincloth that all Xarc’n warriors wore, our alien protector du jour wore pieces of armor strapped to his body, but it wasn’t enough to cover up his perfect physique.

He was a wall of purple muscles, genetically modified to be big and lean but still retain cat-like speed and agility.

His physique wasn’t the only panty-wetting thing about him. His face was masculine and chiseled, maybe a tad bit too angular and a little rough around the edges for some, but that was exactly how I liked them.

Then there were the claws on his hands and feet.

The ones on his feet were huge and non-retractable.

His horns commanded attention too. They were massive, spiraling arcs that swept out from his temples.

I used to find them strange, but now after years of living here in New Franklin with a hunter group, I thought they were beautiful. Very regal.

I knew that after this display of strength, this warrior was sure to have gained at least a dozen new admirers.

But he wasn’t anything more than eye candy for me.

First, I wasn’t interested in anything serious, and most relationships with Xarc’n warriors turned serious real quick, especially if they thought you were their mate.

And second, they reminded me too much of everything I’d lost when the world fell apart.

Our Xarc’n warrior was now retrieving the twin blades from his back.

The moment the blades left their scabbards, the edges turned a bright white-blue, beaming with plasma energy.

He lunged, swinging his weapons in practiced arcs, his ponytail of dark, wiry hair whipping behind him like a model on a romance cover.

The way he wielded the massive glowing blades was nothing short of impressive.

Yup. This guy was racking up the crushes in real time.

I glanced over at Holly, who was practically drooling over him.

The flyer waved its tail in the air over its head, ready to strike.

It happened so fast, all I got out was a squeak before the spike came crashing down.

But the hunter was faster. He rolled out of the way just in time to avoid being impaled, and the tail slammed into the ground, the spike so strong and sharp that it cracked the concrete.

But the beast’s tail was already rising.

Once more it struck, and the hunter dodged.

Except, this time, the flyer had the misfortune of hitting the ground right between two concrete slabs.

Its sharp tail pierced into the ground below, momentarily getting stuck in the dirt.

That single second was all the hunter needed.

He moved, fast as lightning, his glowing blades dancing.

Before I knew it the flyer was dead, and our hero was pulling a blade from the creature’s eye.

It was a clean kill, one almost impossible for a human to accomplish without using a high-powered rifle and perfect aim. Straight through the eye was the only way to avoid a mess. And that was super important. Scourge guts and their symbiotic fungus couldn’t be allowed to contaminate the market.

We also had a no-projectile-weapon rule in effect in the market because we didn’t want any friendly fire on such a special day. We didn’t need the first annual Trader’s Market to be marred by any unnecessary deaths.

Almost immediately, men wearing hazmat suits—yes, it did seem a little excessive, but bug remains were the definition of biohazard—came running out of the rec center, the closest building, with equipment to clean up the mess.

I ran to Garrett, who was still sprawled on the ground where he’d tripped, and offered him a hand to help him up.

“You got lucky this time,” I said. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to run unless you know for fucking sure that you’re going to make it? There was no way! That door is way over there!”

“I know. I know.” He brushed himself off. “I panicked. Aren’t the shuttles supposed to shoot them down before they get close?”

“They are. But you know they can’t get every single one,” I said as we hurried back to our booth.

He blew out a breath. “Yeah. I know.”

The shuttles weren’t the only defense we had. Deciding to run an outdoor market during the bug apocalypse sounded like crazy talk, or at least it had a few years ago. A gathering of this many people would be irresistible to the deadly space bugs. We were, after all, their favorite food.

But this was New Franklin, and not only had we destroyed the nest at the center of town, but we’d also managed to prevent any new nests from forming in the area. This was the safest location for such an event. And besides, we really needed this.

It had been six years since the first scourge landed on Earth. Six years since the Xarc’n warriors, super soldiers genetically modified to hunt the scourge, came to help. Six years since my life was turned upside down and I lost everyone and everything I knew.

The fact that we were still alive was nothing short of a miracle. A miracle and lots and lots of hard work. But no matter how hard we tried, it was impossible to continue living in isolation from the rest of the world. Even with the help of the hunters.

This First Annual Trader’s Market was open to any and all Xarc’n-friendly groups, and many had traveled a long way, some by land, and others by shuttle, to come here with extra food, supplies, knowledge, and other things they wished to trade. It wasn’t only physical items either.

Information was super important too. All the Tech Wizards, a traditional Xarc’n military role now commonly filled by humans who understood their technology, were here for their first North America Tech Wiz Meet Up.

This market was a big deal, and it required big security. Every group in attendance had hunters here to keep the scourge hungry and the humans alive.

The Xarc’n warrior who’d just saved the day was stomping toward us, an angry look creasing his purple brow. His golden eyes locked on mine, and he scowled before baring a set of sharp fangs.