Page 40 of Hunted (Love and Revenge #5)

Robin

T he air in the workroom had the thickness of a storm about to break.

After delivering his message, Josh had retreated to his locked, warded room in the guest wing, as if that would keep Acacia from using him again—or keep him safe from everyone’s judgement.

The moment he left, the rest of the court had erupted into chaos.

Arguments flared like sparks across dry kindling—Sadavir and signing furiously and occasionally voicing while Sanka interrupted over him, Yukio biting through with cold logic and clipped words.

Martina’s dry, coldly practical comments.

Ruya’s soothing tone threaded between them, trying to bind the room back together with Cicely at her back.

But it wasn’t working. Not this time. Even with Ruya’s newly-enhanced omega powers, the court wouldn’t be calmed.

I swallowed down the reminder of how she belonged to the snake now.

It was like swallowing shards of glass. But even I could see that despite her failure at this particular moment, the bonding was good for Ruya.

She seemed more grounded, more secure and confident to my senses.

And her omega aura had grown, reaching out beyond her to touch us all at once.

I sat perched on a table in the corner, hands gripping the edges, jaw locked. The tension never left me these days. But this argument among the court was getting on my last fucking nerve.

Cicely moved to the opposite corner, arms crossed, his deep green gaze flicking between court members as he tried to work his own empathic magic to calm the waters. It wasn’t working any better than Ruya’s influence.

Martina was silent for a moment. Then her voice cut through the bickering again. “He’s going to kill someone,” she said. Flat. Certain. Her gaze flicked to Cicely with a meaningful glint. “Again.”

This argument was unwarranted. The entire thing was ridiculous. I was the alpha and ruler of this fucking court. The fact that anyone was questioning my judgement or thinking any of this was up for debate was intolerable. I had lost control of my entire fucking court.

My palms flared hot at the thought, magic snapping over my skin, flaring outside me, charring the wood beneath my hands.

“Enough.” The word hit the room like a live grenade, echoing with the ripples of alpha command.

Everyone froze. So they did remember who I was after all. The infuriating idiots.

I stood and stepped forward slowly, dragging my gaze across them. “You all want someone to blame. Someone to throw your fear at and pretend it’ll make you safer. Fine. Blame me.” I threw my hands up in an exaggerated gesture.

“I allowed Ruya to bring Josh and the snake back here from the vampire court. I let Acacia live when I could have killed her—multiple times. I agreed to this sham of an alliance to keep her from outing us to the emperor. Be angry with me all you want. But stop squabbling amongst yourselves.” I scowled at each of them.

“These were all my decisions to make. I am your alpha, your very presence here is your agreement to bow to my judgement. If you don’t like it, there is the door!

” I flung my arm out to point at the door and a little gout of flame flickered from my claw-tipped fingers.

Very nice timing, even if it wasn’t exactly purposeful.

Pausing, I watched their faces, my eyes narrowed.

My voice dipped with barely controlled fury.

“ Or you can stay here, in the sanctuary you have helped me create. Benefit from what safety and power we can all gain from supporting one another.” I arched a brow.

“But if you do choose to stay... you can take your outrage, your grief, and your damned morality —and swallow it, even if you fucking choke!”

I growled, the sound full dragon, sparks escaping my lips when I spoke. “I might be losing my mind and my magic, but for the time being, I am still the ruler of this court! Please, endeavor to remember that little fact before I’m forced to eat one of you as an example.”

No one stopped me when I stormed out.

I didn’t care. I had said what I needed to say.

Let them stay behind and argue some more.

Let them chase after me if they were so inclined.

None of it mattered. They could hate me or not.

It was unimportant. I just needed to survive long enough to locate and exterminate the emperor and take down the syndicate.

Then they could all do whatever the hell they wanted to.

Spit on my grave for all I cared. As long as the job was done, my clan was avenged, and the unaligned paranorms were free of the fucking syndicate, nothing else mattered.

The hallways echoed with each footfall, the old stone walls beneath The Fox exhaling around me. It was late, but any sort of normal sleep schedule had long since abandoned most of the court. Sparks danced from my fingertips. My aura was slipping again, burning at the edges of my control.

I took a winding route, soaking in the solid strength of the hidden fortress that I had made into my nest. By the time I reached the training room, the doors were already cracked open.

A rhythmic thump echoed from inside—flesh against padding.

An alpha aura grated against my senses—strong enough to put my instincts on alert thanks to my current state, but familiar enough it didn’t trigger the urge to shift.

Martina. Of course. She would have the same thought I’d had about the need to hit something to make oneself feel better.

I pushed the door open without knocking.

The room smelled like her. Like clean sweat and wild places. Strong, capable woman and ferocious, bloodthirsty shifter. Martina was in a tank top and loose sweats, her feet bare. She spun toward me, one hand still holding a short staff, eyes flashing with restrained fury.

“Come to yell some more, alpha?” she asked, raising a brow. Her posture was defiant, but I could sense the wariness in her as she assessed the state of the stronger alpha in the room.

I didn’t answer. Just stepped inside, let the door fall shut behind me.

Martina tilted her head. “Or are you looking to bleed?”

I rolled my shoulders, stepping onto the mats. “Get a blade and we’ll find out.”

Martina tossed the staff to the floor, grabbed two knives from a nearby table and held one out.

I took it.

We circled, two predators sizing each other up. I had nearly forgotten how much I loved sparring with Martina. Especially knives, since she was such a master with them. A thrill lit through me.

The first few strikes were testing—flashes of movement, the thump of our forearms hitting as we blocked, the kiss of blades meeting skin with just enough pull to avoid cutting.

Then Martina lunged, and I met her with a growl.

We collided, momentum, muscle, and a little bit of magic clashing like opposing currents.

Neither of us held back. Little cuts opened here and there on both of us as we danced around one another.

The pain was a language we both understood.

“You act like Josh is your responsibility, and yours alone,” Martina snarled, blocking a strike and twisting out of reach. “You think this court will collapse without your control. But guess what? We were alive before showed up.”

“You were barely living before me,” I corrected flatly.

“I found you huddled in a tunnel hiding from vampire slavers.” I snorted.

“And none of the others were much better off. Not exactly thriving. And you call this living now?” I spat.

“Following Acacia’s every whim? Letting Josh become a weapon we can’t predict? ”

“He’s not a weapon. He’s a temporary tool. And you’re not listening to me.” Funny how, half an hour ago, she had argued for killing the guy. She was just being contrary on purpose.

I charged her. Our bodies crashed together again. Somewhere in the scuffle, my knife clattered to the mat. Fists replaced blades. It didn’t matter. This wasn’t about winning. This was about not exploding, about giving the fury in my alpha heart a better outlet than pure destruction.

Martina slammed me into the rough stone wall.

I shoved the shorter woman back. I was physically stronger, but even with my enhanced speed, Martina was still faster, her smaller form and low center of gravity giving her a different set of advantages.

We grappled, breathing hard, sweat and heat rising between us. And then—

She slammed into me again, and her lips met mine. Finally.

It wasn’t tender. The kiss was fierce, and raw, filled with all the years of tension between us. It wasn’t soft. It was teeth and desperation, the sharp bite of needing something that wasn’t failure, or fear, or helplessness. Of needing to know that at least one person hadn’t lost all faith in me.

I tore at the hem of Martina’s shirt. She clawed at my waistband.

We stumbled back toward the mats, leaving weapons and stupid pretense behind.

Magic crackled in the air—my aura trying to burn through her skin, held barely in check by the grounding weight of Martina’s mouth on my throat, her elongated chupacabra claws down my spine.

There were no words. We probably should talk about why she was finally giving in and admitting what she wanted now , of all times.

She had stubbornly denied the spark between us for years.

I’d given her space, knowing she was traumatized by the vampires, not wanting to push her, wanting her to come to me on her own.

But now, none of that mattered. I had trouble remembering any of the reasons why I’d been careful with her.

All that mattered was the raw need between us—two alphas done being careful and polite.