THE HUNT

CHAPTER-TWENTY FOUR

Clint looked down as the woman beneath him--Penny? Jenny?--moaned and squirmed and dug her fingernails into his back.

"Faster, yes. Right there. Don't stop."

He dutifully pumped harder, trying to erase everything in his head, trying to just simply enjoy it. She was young, she was beautiful, she was responsive. And all he was doing, was going through the motions.

Beneath him, she arched up, her muscles contracting and pumping him as she cried out and actually shook the whole damn room with her orgasm. Then she collapsed back down to the mattress, with her arm over her eyes, her breathing wet and heavy.

"Oh, my God, baby, that felt amazing." She shifted her arm and stared at him. "It was amazing, wasn't it?"

"Amazing. The world shattered," he said. He rolled off her and headed for the bathroom.

"Don't you want to snuggle, baby?"

He hesitated, glad that his back was to her because it gave him the chance to roll his eyes. What the hell, had he'd been thinking, inviting this woman back too his apartment? He had no intention, of returning back to the bed for a snuggle.

He continued, shutting the bathroom door behind him. With luck, he'd come out in a minute and find she'd gotten the hint, gotten dressed, and left.

Instead, he pulled the door open and got an eyeful of her exposed naked body, the covers tossed aside, coiled up on his slate-gray sheets. She caressed the spot beside her. "Ready, for round two?"

"Tempting," he said, wondering what was on the flat-screen TV.

"Get your sexy, little, Texas ass over here."

"Actually, I'm from Oklahoma."

Her perfectly shaped, sandy brow lifted at his comment, and her surprise knocked his assessment of her down a notch, which put it deep in negative numbers. He spoke, occasionally, with a thick, backwoods dialect for crying out loud. Did she really think he'd been born and raised in the city?

If she was embarrassed, she covered it well. She sat up, ample breasts bobbing. "Well, that makes us neighbors. I'm from Mississippi!"

"I think you forgot about Arkansas," he said, but she just brushed it aside, basic geography, apparently, beneath her.

Note to self, he thought, no more speaking to women who have low IQs. Then again, he had moved to Dallas, because he craved adventure, a stimulating existence. And this woman was both, adventure and stimulating. What was that saying? Be careful what you wish for?

"Do you hear that?" she said, as a sharp chime filled the room.

Clint said a silent thank you too whoever was calling him, then snatched his cellphone from the bedside table. The caller ID showed Adam's name and Clint didn't think he'd ever been happier to hear from his partner. "What's up?"

"You dressed?" Adam said, his melatonin voice unsettling Clint's already worn nerves. "We've got ourselves another homicide."

The vampire sounded troubled by the murder. And Clint shared his concerns. "I assume, the fatality is like the others?"

"Not exactly. This time, the victim's a werewolf.  Looks like he's been dead for a couple of hours. Apparently, someone heard shots but didn't report it. Some teenagers who were out for a late-night make-out session found the body and finely, an earwitness came forward when they saw the cops." He was seething, obviously ticked off as shit to be dealing with another homicide. "Kate's heading there now, too make sure the scene is preserved. She's going up against the human big shots at H.L.S," he added, referring to Steve Heart, a subagent for homeland security.