There are now, the inner voice reminds me. The Wanderer King found one on his travels, and brought her back to be hismajesta. There was a Kings’ Council. I was there. I saw her: a pink, helpless thing, bundled in Khan’s arms, covered in his seed. I could smell her in spite of that. And while the scent was slightly different, that underlying musk which makes my mouth water…
That was the same.
Aurus commanded his mages to find more Omegas, to have them brought here. He took the first one, of course—arrogant fool that he is—and demanded that more be obtained. But surely this little female picking her way across the grass cannot be one of them. She would be too precious. Too valuable. The magicians would have gone to great lengths to bring her here to our planet. They would not go to all that trouble just to let her run free in my forest.
I take a deep, silent breath, and that ulfdamned scent hits me anew. This time, it’s like a log to the head. My cock hardens and my musk rises as my body heats, and all my doubt disappears.
This is an Omega.
She is in my forest, on this night. The Hunt of the Moons.
It is a sign.
She is destined to be mine.
I am the Hunter King… and she is my prey.
THREE
Haley
My skin prickleswith a sudden chill. There’s a bite to the air, and the hoofbeats are getting closer. Some instinct tells me to wade into the water. The waterfall is huge and impressive, crashing down from a great height, then spreading into a gigantic lake, which narrows to a river a little way away. If this is a hunt and the hunters are on horseback, will they have dogs, too? If so, getting into the water will help disguise my scent.
Goddamn Sian, and every actor wannabe who won’t break out of character to explain what’s going on. Goddamn past me who decided to take part in some crazy Wild Hunt re-enactment. Goddamn the organizers and whoever gave me E or Molly or whatever psychedelic drug that’s making me hallucinate Day-Glo orange ferns and whatnot. Once I get out of here, I’m writing a strongly worded review on their webpage.
At least more memories are coming back—random things, like my preferred search engine and seltzer brands. But not anything specific about who I am, or how I got here.
I hobble to the river bank and dip my toe into the dark, murky liquid. The cold knifes up my leg.
I don’t want to do this. I want to be somewhere warm and safe, in a bed, surrounded by familiarity and my unicorn stuffies. But the pounding hooves are getting louder and louder—until my fear overcomes my dislike for the cold. Sucking in air, I dive in and start swimming for the other side.
I surface with a burst, with the panicked thought: what if I can’t swim? My numbed limbs move as if they had a mind of their own, and I’m across the mini lake in no time. When my feet hit the muddy bank, I’m so cold, it hurts. It’s eerily silent as I creep out of the water, wishing I had a nice down jacket. I can’t stop shivering. My nipples are like pebbles.
At least the pounding of hooves has died down. Maybe my trick of getting in the water worked somehow.
I hope Sian’s okay. She tried to help me. Sorta.
I stagger up the river bank and slip into the shadows by the treeline. I stop and wring out my long, soaked hair with numb hands. My teeth clack together, and I’m shivering too much to shake out my sodden nightie. I should peel it off too—god knows it does fuck all to cover my body, and now it’s heavy and drenched, clinging to my chilled skin. But something stops me. I’m alone, in a foreign place. I’m wet, and freezing. I don’t want to be naked, too.
Rubbing the goosebumps on my arms, I look around. What now? Where do I go? Maybe I can find a little hollow in a bush where I can curl up and hide. Or some moss or something to dry or cover myself with.
The night has gone silent. Where there were sounds before—birds, insects, the pounding of hooves—now, there’s nothing but the shushing sound of the waterfall. My heart thuds at a gallop. Too much running. I gulp in the cool air and press a hand to my chest.Need to stay calm.
A powerful sensation punches me in the gut. Warm tingles cascade over my chilly skin. There’s a sudden, hot gush between my thighs a second before my clit starts to throb.
What the actual fuck?
My senses heighten as if the drug I took has kicked into overdrive: my vision sharpens to the point where I can make out the dark flowers on the vines growing up the trunks of trees. My nose prickles, taking in the aromas of the forest: a fresh scent from the running water, a loamy musk from the moss and earth, a piney, herbal scent rising from the river bank plants I crushed underfoot. Something smells delicious, like smoky, maple syrup-flavored bacon. My mouth cramps and I lick my lips, tasting the flavor in the air.
My nipples were already hard but now they’re so taut, they’re painful.
A coil of lust unfurls in my lower belly—so profound, it takes my breath away—and there’s another hot gush from my sex as my clit thumps in sync with my pounding pulse.
I let out a moan, unsure whether it’s one of terror, or desire.
There’s a flash of movement in my peripheral vision and then I hear something that makes my blood run cold:
A low, nerve-prickling, gut-clenching growl.
