Page 24 of His to Hunt

Joe isn’t just dead; he was ripped apart by some sort of wild animal.

Not just him, but multiple men were savagely murdered in Joe’s trailer park.

Frank and Melinda are both shaken. I’m shaken too, but in a different way, and for a different reason. I hate to admit that I’m actually kind of relieved Joe’s gone. After what happened in the alley, I googled him and didn’t like what I found.

I’m angry that Frank would hire someone like that, much less try to set me up with him, but I have nowhere to put that anger. Frank is acting like his brother was murdered. Melinda is acting like this is the true crime case of the century, and she wants to be involved, even though she’s a corporate attorney. And weirdly, they’re both being extremely nice to me. I actually feel like one of Shana’s best friends again, instead of a mostly forgotten basement gremlin.

They’ve had me upstairs for dinner every night. Usually, I buy my own groceries and cook after they’re done. Sometimes they’ll leave their leftovers out for me, if they don’t plan on saving them. That’s always better than ramen noodles and sandwiches. I’ve eaten so many sandwiches I have a hard time eating one now.

Last night, they even let me stay upstairs for a movie. I say stay, but I guess I should say invited. We usually just kind of ignore each other until it’s time to leave for the diner.

But tonight they’re not home. Melinda had a work event, and Frank had to swallow his grief to be her plus one. I spent some time upstairs, but now I’m returning to the basement. I’m sure they’ll be out a while longer, but I don’t want to fall asleep on their couch.

The hair on my neck prickles when I walk down the stairs. The air has a different scent. Like the forest and some sort of musk. It’s faintly familiar, but I can’t place it until I get to the bottom of the stairs and see him.

Victor. He’s sitting on the couch. Way too casually for someone who doesn’t live here. I want to turn and run, but once again I’m frozen in front of him, caught in his dark gaze. My legs tremble, but they don’t move. I struggle to draw my breath.

“Taryn Good,” he growls, pointing at the chairs by the table. “Why don’t you have a seat, little girl?”

My stomach clenches first, and then my core tightens until I whimper. It feels like I don’t know how to disobey him. Like turning and running would defy everything law of nature. What is happening to me? Well, what is currently happening is I’m walking to the table. I’m pulling out a chair. I’m turning toward him. I swallow a gulp and sit down.

“W-why are you here?” I stammer.

He grunts and folds his arms across his chest, his expression darkening like he’s disappointed. I’ve seen him angry. This is something different. It feels like I’m in trouble. And for some reason, that just makes my core burn hotter.

“Because a foolish little girl cast a spell,” he scolds. “Taryn, do you know any foolish little girls who cast spells they can’t even read?”

My eyes widen and I look at the box, then nervously meet his dark gaze. Then I realize the book is on the couch. I was so surprised by him I didn’t even notice it.

“Oh my god!” I gasp.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he mocks. “You created a mating bond. With me.”

I should laugh. I should scream. I should ask how he even knows about the spell, or how he got into the basement, or why the book is sitting beside him like he owns it. But my body doesn’t care about any of those questions.

“I-I made you fall in love with me?” I squeak, my heart skipping several beats.

“No. Love has nothing to do with it. Right now, I’m not even sure I like you,” his voice is filled with derision, and I feel the heat of embarrassment rise on my cheeks. “But the reason you sat down like a good girl instead of running up those stairs is because you feel it too. You just don’t know what it is.”

I try to say something, but my brain is clicking things together. The hangover that lasted for days. Throwing up in the bathroom at the diner. My senses getting all confused, to the point I was always overstimulated.

Then came the arousal.

“That’s why I’ve been feeling the way I have?” I groan, still trembling with a mixture of fear and an unnatural ache between my legs.

“It hasn’t been a picnic for me either,” he says flatly. “And it will get worse. So much worse.”

My entire body clenches from fear and… anticipation.

“Then what happens?” I whisper, already regretting the question enough to gulp.

“When the mating frenzy starts? When you become so fucking irresistible that I can’t stop myself?” he asks, leaning closer, a flicker of gold in his dark gaze that looks more unnatural than the throbbing ache in my core. “When that happens, you stop being a bad little girl who plays with magic and get down on all fours to submit to being rutted until you scream.”

Something ripples through my core that feels like a tiny orgasm, and I squirm in my chair. I imagine it immediately but shake my head. I whimper pitifully, my body betraying every rational thought that tries to go through my head.

“You already know that you’ll do it, too. Don’t you?” he teases, grunting out a chuckle. “Go ahead, you’ll feel better if you just admit it.”

My lips twitch a few times, and a tear runs down my cheek.