Page 35

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

JAXON

S awyer and Edie have a spare room in their house, and that’s where they put up me and Charlotte for the night. I half-expect Charlotte to protest or claim she needs to sleep on the couch or something, but she just tells Edie, “That’ll be great,” and helps her fix up the bed.

Something’s shifted in her, it feels like. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I also don’t have a chance to ask her, because she and Edie are attached at the hip all damn day. They spend most of it at the beach, even though it’s too cold to go swimming. They disappear through the dunes after setting up the spare room and that’s the last I see of them until they come back in the afternoon, with pink cheeks and windblown hair.

I don’t mind, though, since it’s a chance to hang out with Sawyer one-on-one. We share a couple of beers in the living room and swap stories about our latest kills. But then Sawyer says, “What exactly is Charlotte?”

I stop, the beer halfway to my lips, and glance sideways at him.

“She doesn’t feel human,” he says. “But she can’t be a Hunter. Edie would have known.”

“She’s a Hunter.” No point in lying about it. “She had a spell on her that repressed it.”

“A spell?” Sawyer laughs. “Ain’t no way that’s real.”

“Ambrose confirmed it,” I shoot back, somewhat defensively. Sawyer just harrumphs. He doesn’t go in for the mystical. He thinks we all evolved this way or something. As if there’s an evolutionary reason for us not to fucking die.

“So did my gods,” I add.

Sawyer ignores that, though. “Has she killed?”

“Yeah.” And then I tell him everything. He listens, nodding along, sipping his beer every now and then. He’s done by the time I’m finished, and I watch him rub the condensation away as I wait for a response.

“Sounds like a Hunter to me,” he finally says. “Does Edie know?”

“You’d have to ask Edie.”

Sawyer nods again, then stands up to get another beer. “Honestly,” he says, “I hope she is a Hunter. Edie needs friends she doesn’t have to hide from me.”

“She is.” I’m confident in that. Maybe she still doesn’t feel like a Hunter the way Sawyer does, but I can sense the darkness in her, now more than ever. It’s contained. Bound. Almost to bursting.

Our conversation turns to other topics, and by the time Edie and Charlotte come back, Sawyer’s grilling pork chops on the back porch for dinner. Afterward, we all settle down in the living room, the girls splitting a bottle of red wine. I actually wind up going to bed early, even though I’m not really tired. I’m just not used to being around so many people at once. It’s good to see Sawyer, to talk shop a little, and Edie’s sweet and thoughtful and makes Charlotte happy—all good things, no doubt. But she’s human. I hear her blood pumping, and it makes my blood pump, too.

So I go to bed, lying there in the dark, listening to them out in the living room. I can smell weed smoke drifting through the house. Maybe Charlotte won’t even come to bed. That’s fine. I brought her here to see Edie—and Sawyer, to a lesser extent. To show her that Hunters can protect humans when we want to. Can love them. That we’re not just monsters and boogeymen.

But mostly, she’s excited as hell about Edie, and that makes me feel good.

Not quite as good as killing, but—you know. Good.

I’m surprised, then, when I hear the knob turn and then see the hallway light as the door opens, angling across the bed. I roll over and there’s Charlotte, haloed by the light, her crimson hair blazing.

I want to kiss her. Fuck her. Strangle her. Do all three at once. Or have her do all three to me.

“Did I wake you up?” she whispers as she slips into the room.

“No.” I roll onto my side, and she closes the door but then stands beside it like she can’t decide what to do next. “Are you tired?” I ask. “I really don’t need to sleep much these days. You can have the bed.”

It’s dark in the room. The only light is the blend of moonlight and porch light that filters in through the curtains. It makes Charlotte look like a ghost.

“Neither of us have slept for like twenty-four hours,” she says.

I sit up, remembering at the last minute that I stripped my shirt off before I lay down. Charlotte’s eyes linger on me, though, and I swear they catch the light like a cat’s.

She can see in the dark. She might not admit it to herself, but she can.

And she’s looking at me.

“I’ve gone for longer,” I say. “Just, uh, let me get dressed and?—”

“No.”

Charlotte’s voice rings out across the room, startling me into stillness. She creeps forward and crawls onto the bed, and I can hear her heart thudding. It’s not fear, though. She’s definitely not afraid.

“I just mean, that’s not necessary. I don’t mind.” She stops, eye level with me. “If you want to sleep, it’s fine.”

“I’m not actually tired.” What the fuck is wrong with me? Do I want to curl up in bed with her or not?

But then something sparks in Charlotte’s gaze. Something fiery and hot that snags in my thoughts and makes my dick throb.

“I am tired,” she says, still staring at me. “Exhausted, really. But I?—”

Her heartbeat quickens. It’s so fucking loud I swear it’s rattling the walls, and I wonder, briefly, if Sawyer can hear it.

“I was thinking,” she says slowly. “About what you told me in the car. How you liked, um—” She gives a nervous laugh and covers her face with her hands. “I can’t believe I’m going to suggest this. You can say no.”

Everything about her is sending blood flooding into my cock. Her bright, shiny eyes. Her thundering heart. Her scent .

She’s not scared at all, no. She’s turned on.

“What do you want to do?” I squeeze the blanket, dropping my eyes down to her chest. Her dress strap has slipped, revealing a flash of lacy bra underneath.

Charlotte bites her bottom lip, her eyes flicking around. “I—I wanted to thank you. For bringing me here. Showing me that Edie’s okay.” She moves closer, crawling like a temptress over the bed. I don’t dare move, afraid I’m going to scare her off. She stops, her gaze boring into me. “I also wanted—” She hesitates, and I’m about ready to scream at her to spit it out. My whole body feels like it’s on fire.

“I felt it,” she whispers. “That I’m like you. That I’m a Hunter. When Edie was telling me how Sawyer saved her life, and how I saved her life, too—I saw what I am. And it didn’t make me sad. It just felt right .”

Her words completely floor me. When I brought Charlotte here, I obviously hoped this would happen, but I wasn’t sure if it would. But I realize I was right, in giving her the thing she left California for:

Edie, alive and well and willing to accept her as she is. Just like I am.

I grab her, pulling her into an awkward hug, but she melts into me so it’s not awkward at all. “I’m glad,” I say into the top of her hair, even though it’s completely inadequate.

Charlotte nuzzles against my neck, her breath warm, and my cock strains against my underwear. “The last few hours,” she says softly. “All I could think about was thanking you.”

“Thanking me?”

“Yeah.” She pulls away and gazes up at me, her eyes dark with lust.

“How do you want to thank me?”

There’s a long, agonizing pause before Charlotte answers.

“I thought I could go to sleep. And then you could do whatever you want with me.”

For a minute, it’s like all the air rushes out of the room, and I think that if I want to breathe, then I have to kiss her—this beautiful, broken Hunter who’s gone thirty years without knowing what she is.

“Are you sure?” I say softly. “Even—here?”

She blushes so deeply I can practically feel the heat radiating off her skin. “I’m sure if you’re quiet?—”

“Sawyer will know what’s going on.”

I watch her eyes widen, and I sense how the thought excites her.

“He won’t say anything to you because he’s just enough of a gentleman,” I add. “He was raised by his mother. But I don’t know if he’ll tell Edie or not.”

Charlotte’s blush deepens. “Edie already knows,” she mumbles. “I asked her if it was okay.”

Now it’s my turn to blush. “And she said it was?”

“Of course.” Charlotte looks up at me. “Please, Jaxon. I want this. I want to give this gift to you. I feel—I feel right for the first time in my life.”

I move closer to her, testing her. She doesn’t pull away: Not when I cup her face, and not when I pull her into a kiss, plying her mouth open with my tongue. Her body’s hot to the touch, all her blood pumping furiously through her veins. “Are you even going to fall asleep, little Hunter?” I breathe into her ear as I slowly coax her down onto the mattress. “Or will you be too excited?”

“We had wine and weed,” she says. “And I’m exhausted.” She looks over at me, her lids heavy. “I think I’ll manage.”

I sweep my gaze down over her body, lingering on the place where her tits spill out over the top of her dress. I tug the neckline down, and she wriggles a little beneath my touch.

“You should undress,” I say. “Easy access.”

Her lips part at that, and she rubs her thighs together like she’s trying to get at her clit. I bite back a smile.

“Maybe you can help me?” She pushes up on her elbows, pushing those glorious tits up toward my face. “Like when you took my panties off for me?”

“You were chained up then, if I recall correctly.”

“And now I’m too tired,” she says with a pout, falling back on the pillow. “I could just fall asleep right here?—”

I attack her, yanking the dress down hard enough that something tears. Charlotte yelps and glares at me.

“Sorry!” Stupid, stupid. You know how strong you are . “I didn’t?—”

“It’s fine.” Charlotte wriggles her shoulders, and I pull the dress down around her waist. Her tits are gorgeous in her bra. They’ll be even more gorgeous in the moonlight. “I know how to sew. I can fix it. But maybe?—”

She rolls onto her stomach beneath me, revealing a bunched-up zipper. “You can start there?”

I draw the zipper down, then guide her up so I can slide the dress around her waist and hips. She moves with me, pliable but heavy, like she really is on the verge of falling asleep. Once the dress is off, I unhook her bra and slide the straps down her arms, then roll her onto her back again so I can toss the stupid thing across the room.

Charlotte breathes deeply, her breasts trembling. I was right; they are gorgeous in the moonlight, and I run my palms over them, pressing into her hardened nipples.

“Are you going to pretend I’m dead?” she asks softly.

The question startles me. Embarrasses me a little, too, because—honestly, yes. I probably am. Now that I’m familiar with the warmth of her body, it’ll be fun to pretend it’s colder than it should be, fun to try and ignore her fluttering, sleeping heart.

I force myself to meet her gaze before I answer, though. “Why do you ask?”

She’s flushed. Excited. Aroused. I hook my fingers around her panties without looking.

“I was just curious.”

The idea excites her, I realize. But I want to hear her say it.

I tug her underwear over her hips.

“Do you want me to?” I thread the underwear over her knees and then fling it aside, too. She doesn’t answer right away, and I draw my gaze over her plush, naked Hunter’s body. I’m all ready to sink into her.

“Do you?” I crawl on top of her, cock aching with need. Charlotte’s lips part. She runs her hands over my hips.

“Yes,” she breathes.

Fuck me if I don’t nearly explode in my pants right then and there.

“Well, then I’ll need to wait until you’re in a deep, deep sleep.” I nuzzle her neck, peppering her with kisses. “And I think you might be too worked up to get there.”

I pull away from her sharply, palming my cock over my pants. She immediately sees what I’m doing.

“Maybe you should fuck me to sleep,” she says sweetly.

“I think an orgasm is a good idea.” I rock back, sliding off the bed, feeling myself melt into the shadows. “But I want to see you do it for yourself.”

Charlotte bites her lips and spreads her legs, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of her glistening pussy. She drops her hand down to her clit.

“Like this?” she asks coyly.

“Just like that, cher.” My cock is raging at the need to be inside her. But I force myself to wait. That’s not what she asked for, and frankly, it’s not what I want.

What I want is to fuck her sleeping, unmoving body until she comes in her dreams.

“Pretend I’m not here,” I add, pressing up against the wall and going perfectly still, the way I do when I’m stalking prey.

Charlotte drops her head back and rolls her fingers in a slow, circular pace, her hips rocking against the bed. She’s quiet, although I hear the changes happening in her body. The frantic rush of her blood. The quickening of her breath. She widens her legs and slips a finger inside her pussy and thrusts upward.

“What are you thinking about, little Hunter?”

Charlotte jumps like my voice startled her. “What I’ve thought about every time I’ve done this for the last three days,” she whispers, thrusting her fingers inside of herself, running her thumb across her clit.

“And what’s that?” Even though I know. Because we’re both Hunters. What else would she fantasize about?

Houston. Her first kill. Fucking on top of a dead body.

Charlotte whimpers. I assume she doesn’t want to say it, but I know she’s thinking about it because her body is reaching its crescendo. She lets out a soft, choking gasp.

But then she just says, “You,” and her release comes with the ocean rush of her breath. She trembles and arches against the bed and then slumps down, her heart racing.

Me . She didn’t say death or murder. She said me.

Charlotte settles back on the pillow, her hand draped gracefully against her pussy. “Good girl,” I say, a beat too late because I’m still faintly stunned by hearing her whisper you as she came. It’s such a small thing, and yet it?—

It burns straight through me.

Charlotte makes a small happy noise and rolls over. “That helped,” she murmurs.

I slip out of the shadows and draw the blanket up over her naked body. My cock throbs, but I restrain myself.

I’m going to have so much fun using her. But for now, I just want to watch as she falls asleep.

“That’s it.” I run my fingers over her hair and along her bare arm. “Sleep for me, my Hunter. My pretty little corpse.”