The Hunter King
My Omega is a vision: golden-skinned, and glowing in the bath. Her dark hair falls like a river down her back. She rises to her knees, angling her head as she puts her mouth on me. I dig my fingers into her hair, tugging her head back a little so I can see her face. Her eyes are closed, water beading on her black lashes. Her small hands rest on my thighs. As she sucks, she swirls her fingers along my markings, exploring their twisted paths up and down my legs.
My knot pulses and I tug her off, turning her and positioning her on her feet, bent over with her hands on the side of the tub. I kick her feet apart and slide my cock into her sweet folds.
As soon as I breach her entrance, her head flies back. Our mingled groans echo around the chamber. Her skin is covered in new, delicately scented unguents, but nothing compares with the mouth-watering perfume blooming in the air, driving me mad. She’s so tight, I rock my hips, slowly gaining inch by perfect inch, until my thrusts threaten to lift her off her feet.
I hook one arm around her hips and cradle her chest with my right arm, holding her in the ideal position for me to thrust. She lets her head fall back, resting against my newest tattoo. Sometimes, on a new moon, I carve out more designs on my body, but I never marked the place over my heart. Not until I met Haley. My Omega. My little lysia flower.
She is my heart. She is my everything.
I cannot tell her, so I will show her.
I double over, draping her over the edge of the bath, still cradling her body against mine. My knot swells, hooking behind her pelvic bone, joining us together. Her hips twist, and she lifts her leg, somehow accepting more of me.
“Oh god,” she whispers. “I’ve never been so full.”
A balloon of warmth fills my chest. If I could just stay like this forever, hugging my Haley close, with my knot inside her, things would be perfect.
A drowsy smile quirks her lips. “I’m think I’m going to call you Hunter,” she murmurs.
I lick my lips. I must not lose her. I must find a way to speak. But when I look at her face, no words escape. There's nothing for me to do but purr, and hope that she feels my love for her as deeply as I do.
* * *
Haley
A sharp rapping startles me awake. Beside me, Hunter rumbles, and his warm weight leaves the bed. I roll, wincing at the twinge between my thighs, and wrap myself in a blanket.
“My king,” says a smooth voice. “I hate to disturb you but you are late—”
There’s a grunt from Hunter. I sit up as he pushes whoever’s disturbed us out the door, and shuts it.
“Who was that?” I ask without thinking. Hunter doesn’t answer me, and I don’t expect him to. He heads to a wooden wardrobe in the corner that’s intricately carved with a forest scene. When he returns, he has a set look—determined, a little withdrawn. He was broody enough when we were alone in the forest. I had hoped we could connect now that I have more information about him, but right now, the tension between us is even worse. I rub my chest to ease the tightness.
Hunter hands me some folded material, and I look down at it.
“Dress,” he says gruffly.
“Okay. Now?”
He just stares at me until I relent, and unfold the shimmering fabric. It’s a floor-length gown in a rich teal color, with bronze accents on the hem and cuffs. It’s sumptuous and almost regal. It will also completely cover my arms and legs. Naked, I scramble out of bed—he’s seen every inch of me naked by now, so there’s no reason to be shy—and slide the dress over my head. It fits perfectly. Did he have it made for me?
But how would that work without anyone taking any measurements, and besides, we’ve only been back a little while…
There’s a flicker of something that looks like appreciation in his hazel gaze once I’ve got the gown on, and I feel a surge of pleasure. Is it something to do with this whole Alpha/Omega/rut/estrus thing, or the bond which is making me so desperate to please him? I don’t do it consciously, but when he does register his approval of me somehow, I get a fluttering sensation deep in my belly.
“Come,” he says, then turns, obviously expecting me to follow him. With one last look at the comfy bed full of cushions, I do.
He leads me down the hall from his bed chambers to an enormous room with a mounted, high-backed chair carved of astonishingly pretty wood. A throne. There’s a smaller chair beside it on the dais, but it doesn’t match its larger counterpart, and it was obviously placed there hastily. For me.
Once we’re both seated, he gives a nod to a green-robed servant in the corner, who opens the giant double-doors.
A veritable sea of people rush in. The sudden noise is overwhelming. Hunter must sense my apprehension, since he takes my hand and grips it.
Trying to distract myself from the clamor, I look over the people’s heads, admiring the artwork on the walls. I don’t know how they make the paintings move, but the images are stunning—tumbling waterfalls, trees with rustling leaves, shimmering lakes…
In one corner, mounted on a huge stand, is what looks like a sculpture shaped like a tooth. I remember what Sian told me about the Slythin—how Hunter conquered them, returning with a giant fang.That can’t be it. It’s tricky to judge from this distance, but that tooth in the corner must be six feet long—possibly more.
