Is she my mate?
It doesn’t seem possible. I’ve been around her before and hadn’t reacted the way I am now—this feral need to knot inside her and sink my fangs into her neck.
I was sporting a chub all night after she let me use my tail on her. If she hadn’t told me about her lack of good sex, I’d have fucked her too. But she deserves better than a rooftop hookup. She deserves worshipping and drawn-out orgasms… multiple orgasms.
Sighing, I jump out of bed and head straight to the shower to jack off. I turn the water ice-cold to calm down my heated and horny body. Once I dress and eat a hearty breakfast, I fly to St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Midtown where we’ve set up headquarters for the hunter search. The landmark has hosted supernatural meetings since construction was completed in 1878.
When I arrive, I find Xander and Thorne at the head of the conference room table chatting while other supernatural soldiers—shifters, weres, vampires, fae, witches, ogres, and more—take their seats.
The International Supernatural Conference is getting underway for night two, and I have an hour to update the hunter task force team on the new surveillance image. It’s the first image of an O’Hern hunter captured in years.
Once the team is up to date, we’ll head over to Brooklyn for the conference and talk to the attendees about securitymeasures and protection procedures, for supernaturals and humans alike, now that the unveiling plan is moving forward.
There’s still a lot of work to do, but the priority remains focused on protecting our kind. Supes in cities around the world also need time to gather armies and train them on how to respond to backlash.
To prepare for war, if that’s the worst-case scenario.
The problem is we can’t kill humans for lashing out on us because of their fear. That’s not going to win us any favors with hesitant or skeptical humans. We also can’t allow witches or vampires to erase their memories or alter their feelings towards us. While we can defend ourselves, we must do whatever it takes to keep a human alive. It’s not something we’re used to, which is why training is needed.
Hunters who attempt to capture or kill us will need to be handed over to mortal law enforcement agencies. They’ll need to be treated the same as any regular human despite the belief that they’re anything but normal. Many supernaturals believe hunters are cursed or destined. It’s yet to be proven, but I’m confident that there’s something in their blood… their DNA… that makes them hate us.
Gargoyles are no stranger to curses. We were cursed to the night by a witch after a scared human spotted a gargoyle flying the skies while on patrol. It didn’t matter thatwe protect humans from the evil that threatens the world. The witch cursed us anyway.
I approach Thorne and Xander who are all but glowing. They’re both happy. In love. Mated. They both deserve it too.
Xander’s the first to see me, and he smirks before speaking. “So, my wife’s best friend?”
He claps me on the back.
“Farrah?” Thorne asks, intrigued. “She is lovely. Congratulations, friend.”
I huff at the assholes.
“It’s nothing serious. It can’t be. You both know that. She’s human, and we’re not mates.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Thorne says, referring to himself. He’s fated to two beings—something that is rare even for our supernatural world.
But he’s also right.
“If she were my mate, wouldn’t I have known the moment we met?” I ask.
“Unless there’s a reason your connection is blocked," Xander offers. “It could be anything: a curse, a spell…”
I considered this as well.
The room has quieted, and I know everyone is listening to our conversation. Supernaturals are nosey and love to gossip. It’s bad enough that King Xander’s first incommand returned to last night’s party smelling like human pussy… a human that many monsters had eyes on.
It still pisses me off thinking about all the horny fuckers eyeing my mouse.
“It's because she was turned on all night. Her sweet cunt smelled divine,” a familiar and cocky voice says beside me.
Rorik barely finishes the sentence before I’m in front of him, cracking his neck, and tossing him to the ground.
I glance at Xander and Thorne who gawk at me, mouths open because I just incapacitated the first vampire. The rest of the room has similar reactions. A shifter has even pulled out his phone to take a picture or record video.
I’m not sure why they’re all shocked. Rorik can’t even die. No harm, no foul.
But still… if word got back to Layla, she could impose a fine on me or ask Xander to punish me.
