The Hunter's Mistake
The biting wind chased up her skin, Eve's fingers shaking from the cold. She barely noticed as Vincent carried her through the forest. He had her tossed over his shoulder, the trees passing by as a blur. His hard body was completely nude, blood dripping down his chest. There were gashes and scratches along his skin and shoulders, but he didn't seem to care or notice.
Her heart was hammering in her chest, tormented and confused, filling with a painful ache. Her mind couldn't focus, overwhelmed by what had happened. All that blood, all that chaos. It played over and over in her head.
But one thought haunted her above all others.
Hunter.
Vincent was a hunter. She felt sick with the knowledge of it. How could she be so foolish? How had she not recognized his name?
A cold thought occurred to her. Had Levina known? Why would her aunt do this to her? Memories of searing flames and screams of agony assaulted her mind. She wanted to run, away from her past, away from the wolf, away from all of it.
So weak.
She hated it. Why couldn't she be strong?
"Vincent."
"Quiet," he rumbled, the word strained. His hot body was thrumming with power, she could feel it. Was this his wolf?
She'd never seen a turned werewolf before, but there was no doubt that Vincent was a dominant male. He was born to be an alpha. The way he'd fought off those other werewolves, his wolf had been fierce, powerful. Eve had known he was strong, but she'd never imagined...
So much blood.
She struggled to get out of his hold. "Vincent. Let me down."
He growled beneath her, his hand coming up and kneading her backside. Despite her tormented mind her body reacted to him, a whimper on her lips. His hand cupped her roughly before he shuddered, slamming his fist against a tree.
"Vincent."
"Quiet," he barked. His voice nearly vibrated with the command. Her words caught in her throat.
The cottage came into view. The muscles of Vincent's back and shoulders went rigid. Before they were halfway to the door he let out a curse, sliding her down his body and pinning her against a tree. His lips crashed down onto hers, his beard scrapping along her skin. Big hands gripped her thighs, sharp claws biting into her backside, as he wrapped her legs around his waist. Then he was yanking up her dress, his claws twisting the soft material.
She heard fabric rip. Panic struck her.
He was going to take her right now. She couldn't do this, she wasn't ready. She tried to yell out but couldn't speak. Instead she fought against him, arching her back, shoving against his chest. Her actions only seemed to excite him further. He pinned her harder with his body, snarling with excitement, as if he wanted to show her his strength.
A whimper sounded in her throat.
"Submit." His voice rumbled straight to her core. It had grown so much rougher, the tone more commanding, more dominant. It was hard for her to deny him. She wanted to bare her neck to him, to arch up and welcome his bite as he took her body.
She physically ached for it.
Oh god, what was happening?
Eve clutched at his shoulders, unsure if she was trying to push him away or pull him closer. His hips bucked, a deep groan in his chest. His fangs caressed over her neck as one of his hands slipped between them, tearing her panties.
When she felt his hardness between her thighs her voice returned full force. "No!"
Vincent paused, his breathing ragged. "No," he repeated the word as if it were something foul.
"No," she whispered.
His claws clenched over her thighs. "Yes," he grated. His mouth was on her again, demanding she give. Eve shook her head, pushing weakly against his chest. He snatched her wrists with one hand, holding them above her. "Submit."
She wanted too. And that terrified her even more. "Vincent, stop!" she shouted.
He pulled back, staring down at her. Eve held back a gasp. He looked completely wild. His eyes were burning so brightly they were like tiny orbs of blue flame. "You deny me?" he asked, his voice laced with frustration and anger.
Avoiding his gaze she murmured, "I can't."
"Can't?" His hands slammed to the tree beside her head, his claws digging into the rough bark. "Your body wants me. I can scent it." He hips moved, sliding his erection over her damp sex. "I can feel it," he growled. "Don't tell me you can't."
"I'm sorry-"
"I killed for you!" he nearly roared. His eyes took on a dark gleam, then he groaned as if in agony, his head falling to her neck. His body rocked against her, seeking entry. "Need this, Evelyn."
She almost broke at his words. Eve wanted so badly to give in to him. But her mind screamed at her. He was a hunter. He was the enemy.
How many had he killed? How many innocent lives had he taken in the name of glory and fame?
Her hands shoved against him more urgently. "Please, don't force me."
Vincent stiffened, releasing her and backing away as if she'd burned him. His body was shaking, his features torn. "Force you?" He bared his fangs at her in outrage. "I would never force you!"
"Then stop," she pleaded. "I can't think. I'm overwhelmed, Vincent."
"Overwhelmed," he spat. "You deny me. Deny my wolf! And you're overwhelmed? I warned you of this. Of what it meant if I stayed." His tone was furious, accusing, as if she'd betrayed him. He loomed over her, shaking, fighting a war with himself. Then he gave her a vicious snarl, turning his back on her and storming to the cottage.
Eve followed, stumbling through the snow. Once inside she shut the door, leaning back as her legs shook. Vincent was tugging on a pair of jeans, keeping his gaze off her. With jerky movements he grabbed a hair tie, pulling his hair back into a tight bun.
She watched him silently, fear twisting her stomach into knots. What was he going to do now? Slowly she slipped off her wet jacket, easing her way around the table.
"Damn it, Evelyn!" Vincent shouted, making her jerk despite herself. He paced the kitchen, tugging his beard. "This morning you would have fucked me, would have begged me for it." He rounded on her. "What the fuck changed? Why do you deny me?"
"Why didn't you tell me you were a hunter!?" she cried.
Vincent threw his hands up in the air. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Everything!" Eve stared up at him as she crashed back to reality. A part of her had hoped he would deny it. "You kill for the glory of it, for the enjoyment of the hunt. It doesn't matter who they are, if they have families. Hunters are evil, Vincent!"
"And the Legion isn't!?" he shouted at her face. She took a step back in fear. The action seemed to infuriate him. He bared his fangs at her, pointing at her angrily. "I never hid my nature from you, Evelyn. I have always been truthful with you. You knew what kind of man I was."
Tears stung her eyes. "I didn't..."
"You did," he snarled. "I never said I was a good man and I never led you to believe otherwise. You could accept me then, but not now?"
"This is different," she argued meekly.
Vincent gave a sharp laugh. "There is no difference, Evelyn. You were just deluding yourself."
She couldn't dispute it, because he was right. She'd wanted to believe so badly that he wasn't evil, that whatever things he'd done for the Legion had been forced on him. But no one had forced him to be a hunter. "Why didn't you tell me the Demon King was after you?"
He seemed taken aback by the question, before his features hardened. "You never asked."
"And just how was I supposed to know?" she all but cried. "Why is King Sebastian after you? What did you do?" Had Vincent tried to hunt him. Killing the Demon King would have been a hunters dream. Berserker demons alone were fierce, but the Cursed King was in a league all his own.
Vincent shook his head with a growl, pacing around her tiny kitchen like a caged animal. "Don't."
Eve wasn't going to back down from this. Clenching her fists she asked him again, "What did you do?"
"Made a mistake," he grated.
"Grace said you tried to take what didn't belong to you."
Vincent glanced at her sideways. "Aye."
Eve could tell his wolf was more in control now. His answers short, clipped, his demeanor more feral. "What did you try and take?"
"A woman." He rubbed a hand down his face. "The elven queen."
Eve gaped up at him in shock. "Why would you do that?"
"Needed her."
"For what?"
Vincent was eyeing her warily, as if she'd suddenly become the enemy. "I needed a strong queen."
Realization dawned on her. She reached behind her, gripping the back of a chair. "You did this so you could become an alpha?"
"The alpha!" Vincent snarled.
Her brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"
Vincent paused, his eyes cautious. She knew she was on the verge of discovering a part of Vincent the wolf wished to keep secret. The tension was rolling off him in waves.
She took a slow step forward, her eyes imploring him to open up to her. "Please, tell me. You said you would always be truthful with me."
The wolf hesitated, glancing downward before his burning gaze returned to meet her eyes. "I will become the King of Alpha's. The ruler of all werewolves."
Eve's eyes widened. "Why would you want that?"
Vincent began to pace once more, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "Because our lack of leadership makes us weak. It's pack against pack. We scramble for territories, to promote our bloodlines, killing each other like animals." He stopped, his eyes burning with fury. "Meanwhile the Legion and Forsaken slaughters us. But if there was one to rule over all the packs we would finally be united. An organized army of werewolves."
Eve gazed at him silently, the pieces falling into place. "Is this because of your mother?"
He gave a sharp laugh. "My mother? My mother was slaughtered by her own kind. And for what? A fucking piece of dirt. If I were king there would be no more wars among us, no more senseless deaths." He took a step towards her, his eyes darkening. "You think I'm mad." It was a statement, not a question.
"I don't know what to think," she murmured honestly.
Vincent snorted. "I'm not the first to seek this. For as long as our packs have roamed the idea of a one true king has existed. When I was just a boy our alpha was close. He had a powerful queen by his side, many of the other packs had sworn allegiance to him. But then he found his mate, his true queen. It ruined him, drove him mad, broke the pack. My brother Michael eventually became alpha, but we weren't the same. The pack is joined, what happens to one affects us all."
Eve wondered if this man had ever known peace. "Michael is your brother by blood then?"
"Aye."
All this time Vincent had a brother. She truly knew nothing about this man. "What about your father?"
"Michael's died in battle, mine before I was even born," he stated dismissively. "He was my mother's mate. She was never right after."
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Why?" he snapped. "Don't pity me, Evelyn. I have no need of it from you or anyone."
She knew he was lashing out, but it hurt none the less. "So you just thought you would be king?"
"I seek to unite us," he said harshly. "Many have tried, I will succeed where they failed," he declared fiercely. "I made a name for myself, a name that was feared. But I still needed a powerful queen, no alpha would bow to me otherwise."
"A powerful queen..." It always came back to that - power. She clenched her jaw. "You were going to claim this elf queen for yourself?"
"Aye," he said stiffly. "Then I'd have her army at my command. The packs would have no choice but to accept me. But the Demon King acquired her first. And she loved him, wouldn't leave. Had no choice but to take her by force."
God, why had she never realized just how cold and calculating he could be? "And what if she refused? Would you have forced her?"
He turned from her. "Don't know."
She tasted bile. He wouldn't have...She felt panic once more. "Vincent!"
"Stop," he ordered. "This is enough."
"No." Her voice was shrill, laced with her anxiety. "Would you have forced her?"
"I don't know!" he roared, slamming his fist against the wall. She jumped as the stone cracked. Stepping back he gripped at his head. "I wasn't right then. My mind, it wasn't right. I did things-" he broke off, shaking his head, as if trying to clear away the memories.
Oh god. "What things?"
He stared down at his hands, his body trembling. "I hurt people, innocent people. I hurt the she-elf, took her from her demon."
"Vincent," she breathed. Her heart was being torn into pieces. How could this be the same man from last night?
"It doesn't matter now." He slashed his hand through the air. "None of it matters now. Not alpha. Not the Legion. None of it."
"Then what does matter!?" she shouted in frustration.
"You!" he bellowed. Vincent was standing over her before she could blink. Her breath caught in her throat. He reached up, tracing his claw down her cheek. "You're all that matters now."
Her lashes fluttered at his touch, despite herself. She couldn't be swayed by this. "How many have you killed?" She had to know.
He sighed, backing away and running his hand over his chest. "Don't know."
"How could you not know?" she demanded.
"I didn't count!" he shouted back.
Unconsciously she placed her hand over her heart. "Hunters kill without mercy. How many of them were women, children?"
"Never hurt a child," he snarled, clearly insulted.
She gave a cold laugh, feeling as if she'd gone mad. "Oh, so that's where you draw the line. You were going to force yourself on this woman, you kill and hunt without remorse, but that's where you draw the line!" She was yelling by the end, her hands clenched into tight fists.
"Enough," he snapped.
Eve was beyond caring anymore. She felt so foolish, heartbroken. Disappointment was crushing her. "Hunters are evil."
His features shifted, more calculated, less wild. "The Legion is evil incarnate. That didn't stop you from wrapping your mouth around my cock."
She flinched as if he'd slapped her. "The Legion didn't drag my family out of bed in the middle of the night and slaughter my parents!"