The King's Possession ✔️

FOUR

"I was wondering something too. Forget this Tani bullshit. Have a drink with me," he mutters, the edge of his tone slurred. He motions to the vacant bartender, nodding at him. I swallow, my throat drying painfully. I don't drink alcohol, and I never had. It's a mixture of disinterest and the fact that it was never common in my village.

"I don't drink, Sir. See, I'm here to speak about my Tani," I say more firmly, pushing the book toward him further. My patience is wearing, but I remain still, calm. This is important, and I've been trained to deal with men like this.

He leans forward in his seat, leaning an elbow sleazily against the edge of the bar. "And I'm here to get you to spend the night with me."

Anger washes over me, slow and hot, but I don't let it define my expression. That is, until the man grabs my wrist, grip tight.

The bartender comes over to bring my drink, but as he goes to slide it across a bar toward me, a hand comes out from behind me and grabs it. "I'll take that, thank you."

I immediately bristle, feeling his proximity right at my back. His voice glides over my skin, his scent joining in eliciting shivers throughout me. I don't turn my head to look at him, as he sits on the seat next to me, leaning over the bar, focusing his attention not on me, but the man I had been preaching to.

"That's for the lady, Summoner freak," the man growls, real anger creeping into his tone.

"I would watch what you say to me," the Hunter says, voice calm yet firm, daring the man test him. "Now get your hands off her, before she kicks you in the balls, and you become the last of your bloodline."

Slowly, I drag my gaze over to him. In the light of day, he looks so much more magical. The marking on his forehead is much more detailed than I remember, shifting between hues of frosted silver and deep blues. The dusting of colour disappears beneath a fringe of bronze hair, rippled with shades of copper and shadows of black. It falls like snow, almost, ending at his eyebrows, looking alive but never moving.

I'm not surprised he is here, but that he intervened. His words leave both me and the stranger shuddering, the threat lingering in the air dangerously.

Wordlessly, the man stands, stumbling his way to the exit. I loosen a breath, unclenching my fists.

"Thanks, I guess," I find myself, although I don't let my words form into actual appreciation. Whether the man was being forward or not, I have a job to do. But I will acknowledge the glimmer of pleasure I get at the idea of this Hunter letting me dish out my own punishment to the man.

"I never got your name. I'm Marek," he offers. A white flag.

Had I imagined the Hunter, Marek, would come to this bar today, I would have avoided it, despite my duty. Realistically, I don't think he is dangerous. The marking on his forehead is physical proof he hasn't used his magical abilities in a very long time, so I doubt he will use it on me. Yet I can't shake the uncomfortable feeling I get around him.

"Akara," I murmur.

"Well, Akara, shouldn't come into bar's to preach. Men here don't take kindly to foreigners," he remarks. I find his eyes again, trying to see into them, but there's nothing but a cornflower blue painted wall, hiding his intentions.

I narrow my eyes. "What would you know? I thought you came from far reaching places."

"I do. But this is home birth village," he admits. The shock that reaches my expression isn't feigned. Marek is clearly Azure Province born, it's written all over his sharp features and Summoner abilities. Yet Jessa made it sound like the Hunter didn't have a home, and he goes wherever his duties take him. Whatever those duties may be...