Masters of the Hunt: Fated and Forbidden

by Sarra Cannon

  She pursed her lips and shook her head, and he followed her numbly back to the Westie, unable to muster the energy to argue. His job was simple now: don’t leave her alone, don’t leave her exposed. Everything else would have to wait.

  — —

  Despite his worry about the break-in and her safety, the inside of Hallie’s tiny, cluttered apartment instantly made him glad that he’d stayed with her. Every square foot of her place held ten times the life of his entire house, from the piles of books to the classic movie posters on the walls to the strange collection of bobble-head figurines on a bookshelf in the corner. On every surface, dozens of little frames held photos of Hallie and Dani: at a beach, in the Westie, wearing graduation caps and gowns. He tapped that one, which hung on a living room wall.

  “I thought you didn’t go to high school?”

  She hung their coats in the jam-packed little coat closet by the front door. “Oh, we didn’t. We just got those caps and gowns for ourselves when we got our GEDs.” She looked a little sheepish. “We wore them out to dinner so people could congratulate us.”

  “Seems like you two had a lot of fun.”

  “We did.” Her voice was quiet, and she was still staring at the graduation photograph, lost in her own thoughts.

  “Any more word on how she’s doing?”

  She shook her head. “Just more surgeries. She had some swelling from the last one… so they’re really not sure what kind of brain function she’s going to have when - if - she wakes up.”

  He wished there was something he could do. Some way he could…

  A thought occurred to him—a perfect plan, a way to get them both out of town for a little while.

  “Have you been able to visit her? Or make plans to?”

  She shook her head. “It’s too far, too expensive, and I don’t know if I should, with everything else. With Louisa. I’ve been talking to the nurses on the phone, though. That’s one thing Louisa did right. Or her lawyer, anyway… she told them I was family so I could get updates without any hassle.”

  Matthew couldn’t help but think that those weren’t the actions of someone who had grown tired of Hallie, but he kept his mouth shut. He sat down on the couch. Hallie rushed to move her laptop out of the way, then kicked off her shoes.

  “Do you want something to drink? I have water. And wine.” She grinned. “Basically anything biblical.” She clapped her palms together. “Would you like some fish, sir? A loaf of bread?”

  He laughed. “I’m okay. Come sit.”

  She ran to her bedroom to change first, then joined him on the couch. Her pajamas were plain: an oversized shirt and loose flannel capris. His eyes instantly found the soft, natural curve of her breasts. Her nipples were barely taut beneath the light cotton, and he imagined holding her in his palms, kneading her gently as he sucked them into his mouth. His cock hardened.

  Focus. What were you going to say?

  “I was going to ask if maybe you’d like to take a trip up to Boston with me. Maybe over the holiday break, as soon as you finish up finals?”

  “A trip?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I take one every year, usually on my bike, but we could take the Westie. And I could cover gas and most meals, since I planned to spend that money anyway. It could be—well, not fun, exactly—but it could be worth it.”

  “I don’t know… I don’t want to put you out.”

  “But you want to go see Dani.”

  She drew her legs up and hugged her knees. “I’m the one who put her there. I owe it to her.”

  “It’s not your—”

  “Not my fault, I know. And normally I’d agree with you, but we—” She adjusted the couch cushions against the arm, fluffing and fidgeting while he waited patiently. “We were fighting that night. I said stuff I shouldn’t have.”

  “Such as?”

  Hallie settled back and crossed her arms over her stomach. “Dani was a little… boy crazy. I wasn’t. She partied; I stayed home. I studied; she slept with her professors. She slept with a lot of people, actually… and I didn’t really sleep with anyone.”

  Her ears burned red, and Matthew was almost ashamed at how irrationally, primally, furiously triumphant he was to know that he had been able to give her pleasure, to see her totally vulnerable beneath the ministrations of his lips and fingers and tongue. She was his, his body seemed to scream. His.

  “That night,” she said, “I picked her up from a party and she was plastered—and mad at me because by showing up when I did, I interrupted her hook-up with a guy from a history class we took together. I’d had a crush on this guy, so when I caught them in the middle of having sex, I was angry.”

  Matthew could see where this was going.

  “I called her a whore. I don’t know why.” Hallie still seemed a little amazed at herself. “I’ve never said anything like that to anyone, let alone her. And, I mean, she has the right to sleep with whoever she wants. I’m not keeping track, and it wasn’t like this guy and I had anything going.”

  “Well, she could have picked someone else.”

  “I don’t know. Dani used sex like it was medicine. Like it could fix things, wham-bam, like a cure. She’d get scattered and stressed, then screw a guy, be okay for a while, then repeat the whole process. For a long time I thought she was working out issues over her mother, so I let it all go. Now, I’m not so sure. Anyway, it wasn’t my place to judge.”

  “I know it hurts that the last conversation you had was painful,” he said, “but I promise you that in the grand scheme of things, the last things we say to each other don’t matter. What matters is the kind of friends you were to each other, day in and day out.”

  “This message brought to you by Decades of Immortality,” she said, mimicking the old public television voice-over, “and from the contributions of Viewers Like You.” The irony in her voice stung. Was he using his age to lecture her? Or, as a niggling voice in the back of his mind suggested devilishly, was he trying to prove that he was worth her time and energy? That he knew something worth knowing, that he could help her, teach her things? Either way, it was a strange position to be in. If he thought he knew everything, had the wisdom of decades, then she disarmed him, made him wonder whether there weren’t things he had yet to learn.

  She sighed and stretched out her legs. God, he couldn’t stand being this close to her and not touching her. He was starting to realize how isolated he’d been, how devoid of human contact. He wanted her warmth, her response, her desire. Every time he got close, it was so easy to touch her—the brush of his fingers against her neck or arm or lips, his hand tangled in her hair—it all fed his hunger for touch but never sated him.

  He tugged her feet into his lap, making her slip lower on the couch with a faint gasp. He stroked over them gently, tracing the bridge down to the sole, along the curve of her arch and back. She let out a tiny whimper. Then he stroked one finger firmly up and down the center of each sole, which made her yelp and try to tug her feet back.

  “Nope,” he said, shaking his head. He held her ankles and repeated the motion, earning another gasp. “This is what happens when you make fun of my age.”

  Hallie’s eyes widened and she lunged for him, giggling uncontrollably, wrestling her legs from his grip. She scrambled off the couch.

  “Too slow, old man.”

  He burst out laughing, then rose to chase her, his heart pounding erratically as she ran into the bedroom and he tackled her as lightly as he could, wrapping his arms around her from behind and dragging her down to the bed. Once they were down, she stilled, and he pressed her beneath him, touching his lips to her ear, sweeping his palms up and down her arms.

  “Still want to call me an old man?”

  “Would you prefer the term geriatric?” she said, laughing.

  Then she ground her hips against his growing erection, and he suppressed a groan.

  “Angel.” He nipped her earlobe. “I think you’ll find that age comes with experience,” he said, unable
to stop himself. “So don’t test me.”

  “What if I want to?”

  He shook his head, nuzzling her neck. “Not tonight, Hallie.”

  He groaned as he rolled away from her, then sat up, rubbing his hands over his face.

  “I’m going to go wash up,” he told her, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple and brushing her hair away from her neck. He was determined to keep the night as platonic as possible, even if he couldn’t keep his hands off of her - and even if she liked it.

  “There are extra towels under the sink, if you want to shower,” she said, her voice soft and small.

  In the shower, as he let the warm water run over his face, Matthew tried to reign in his scattered emotions. He felt tender and raw, as though all of his nerves had been exposed. Tonight, Hallie had learned the truth, and she had accepted it—accepted him—wholeheartedly, without question. Before he could do anything to stop it, she’d slipped past all his defenses and settled somewhere right beside his heart.

  And then they had returned, as if right on cue. His ancient enemies. They’d come to take her away—again. Fuck if he was going to let that happen. He’d find a way to protect her this time. He would.

  He soaped his body quickly, efficiently. He was still hard. Fuck. He couldn’t go to bed with her like this. He closed his eyes, trying to will away the thoughts of her soft skin, the curve of her breasts and hips, and the tender pink fullness of her lips. He slid one hand down his chest and took hold of his cock, stroking hard and fast, pressure building at the base of his spine. He imagined how sweet she would taste… and the look of anxious desire he’d put on her face as he kissed and licked her everywhere, possessing her as no one else could. He imagined sinking into her warm, slick, tender flesh—and he came with a strangled grunt, waves of pleasure making his legs tremble. Breathing hard, he closed his eyes as hot water pounded his back and swirled his semen down the drain. His heart thrummed and he felt only mildly sated, his body still raw with stress of the day.

  What he needed was to be near her. To hold her.

  When he returned, his torso bare and his hair damp, she had drawn the covers to her bed and was pressed up against the wall, leaving room for him to slide in beside her. The chivalrous bone in his body told him to take the other bed, Dani’s old bed, the one beneath the posters of half-naked men and brooding band singers. But the rest of him, the part that longed for Hallie more than it had ever longed for anything, told him to sleep beside her: to hold her all night because he never felt more right, more settled, than when he was touching her.

  So he switched off the light and climbed in beside her. He lay flat on his back and tension filled the gulf between them. The yellow sheets smelled fresh and clean, and coupled with the vanilla scent of her skin made him acutely aware of how out of place he was, lying in her bed. He turned, rolling slightly so that he could see her. She was facing him, her ear pressed into the pillow, her eyes squeezed shut in feigned sleep. A current of warmth ran through his chest; somehow, her nervousness made his own dissipate. Without thinking he reached out for her, brushing stray strands of her hair back over her neck, her ear, her temple. Her jaw relaxed under his touch, and her breathing evened. His throat tightened with the need to get closer, to press her into his chest and wrap his arms around her.

  “Hallie…” he murmured, cringing inwardly as he did so. Even his whisper was too loud for the soft stillness of the moment. But she seemed to understand, crawling beneath his outstretched arm and nestling her face against his neck. Her warm breath fluttered over his skin, and he swallowed hard, sliding his palm over her waist and tightening his arm around her.

  “Hallie?” he whispered again into the darkness, a few minutes later, as he waited for sleep to take him. “What do you think about Boston?”

  But she was already dozing, her gentle snores a comforting alternative to the thousands of long, empty nights he’d spent alone, waiting and wishing and hoping to find her.

  Chapter 15

  The air in the cabin was warm and smelled of woodsmoke and pine. She couldn’t think of a better place to fall asleep. At last, she was home, and in a few short days her love, her hero, would be home, too. They were free.

  She doused the lamp and curled beneath a scratchy blanket on the thick straw mattress. She dozed, warm and content, as the embers in the hearth died, the whirring and chirping of cicadas keeping her from dropping into a deep slumber.

  Then, a bang like the release of a gun, and the door flew open. Men stormed in, their hands grabbing her, hitting her, holding her down. Disoriented, her body wracked with pain, she tried to scream, but a pillow pressed down on her face. Another searing pain burned in her side. She tried to cry out for him, for the lover who would save her—for help, for anyone—

  Hallie woke with a gasp, her skin sticky with sweat. Panting, she twisted, colliding with the solid warmth that was Matthew’s half-naked, oversized body in her bed. He was still here. He hadn’t left. With a long exhale, she settled against his sleeping form, sliding her arm across his bare chest, relieved and comforted by his steady breathing. Already, the threads of her dream were slipping away, dissolving before she could really grasp them.

  It was early morning, the dim sunlight filtering in through her closed blinds and casting long shadows across the room. Matthew was wrapped around her, his face buried in her hair and one arm draped over her waist, holding their bodies together even in sleep. She hummed, heat flooding her belly at the sight of him, and took the opportunity to touch him the way she’d been longing to. She brushed her fingers over his shadowed jaw, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his bottom lip… then down over his Adam’s apple and across the hard muscle of his shoulders.

  She wanted more. She wanted to press her lips to the smooth, rippling planes and valleys of his chest, to run her fingers through the coarse hairs there… and then lower. His cock was hard, prodding her stomach, and the feel of his arousal, coupled with the scent of him and the way he curled himself around her, so protectively, stoked a fire in her belly. How intoxicating it was, to feel wanted. She wondered how it would feel to make love with him—real, sober, and focused love —to be at the receiving end of all of that heat, that warmth. The thought set her whole body alight with nervous desire. Being here with him, like this, drowning in his embrace and the heady scent of his skin, made the idea all too real.

  As her fingers grazed his chest, he stirred. He gazed down at her, his eyes unfocused, still lost in a dream. It took a moment for him to realize where he was, but when he did, he immediately pressed his lips to her forehead.

  “Good morning, angel.”

  She nestled her head underneath his chin and swept her fingertips up the side of his bare torso, which made him suck in a breath.

  “How did you sleep?” she asked. He rolled onto his back, dragging her with him so she was draped halfway on top of him.

  “Better than I have in a long, long time.”

  She felt the same, and the thought made anxiety flutter in her stomach. Sleeping alone wouldn’t be easy after having fallen asleep and woken up in his arms. They hadn’t even fooled around. He’d slept with his arms around her because he genuinely wanted to be near her—even with her hair mussed and her face unmade; despite the fact that she snored a little and tended to hog the blankets. Warmth flooded through her, all the way to her fingertips, at the thought.

  He smiled and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, making her shiver. The crease in his cheek deepened as he did it again, this time sinking his fingers into her hair and rubbing her scalp. She whimpered.

  “You like to be touched,” he murmured. “Held.”

  She sucked in a breath and tried to pull away, her face flaming, suddenly self-conscious of her hair and her morning breath. Maybe she was being too needy. Sleeping together or not, he obviously didn’t need to deal with all of her strange tics and habits and shortcomings. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d driven someone off just by being herself.

/>   But as she tried to extract herself, his arms tightened around her waist.

  “So it’s good that I like holding you.”

  A moan of longing pushed at the walls of her chest.

  “I have to—um. Bathroom,” she said, trying to push herself off of him.

  With a murmur in the back of his throat and another light kiss to her temple, he let her go.

  She showered quickly, stomach restless at the thought of him alone in her apartment, free to poke and prod at her messes and her photos and realize that he’d made a mistake in coming. But when she came back to the bedroom, he was still there, propped against her headboard, reading the tattered copy of The Outsiders she had on the nightstand. The sight of him, of a half-naked and wonderfully sexy man reading in her bed, drew her up short. She tried to shove aside the pang of longing in her gut.

  He looked up and smiled. “You smell good.”

  “It’s my body wash,” she mumbled, grabbing a pair of jeans from the pile of clean clothes on her desk and then digging in her closet for a comfy, clean top. In his presence, she needed to be more clothed than she currently was. She picked an oversized Abingford U sweatshirt—a nice thick buffer between his nakedness and her own.

  “Are you okay?” He lay down the book and swung his legs off the bed. “Look, if this is about last night…”

  “Last night was wonderful. I just have a couple of errands to run and one more take-home final to finish. History.”

  His face fell. “Right, of course. I completely forgot you had finals—I can’t believe I dragged you out last night.” He shook his head. “I’m a jerk.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “No. I’m glad we went. I needed the break. These finals are killing me, they’re all over stuff we learned while I was in the hospital.”

  “After the accident, didn’t they want you to withdraw for the semester?”

  He stood and gathered his clothes from where they hung, neatly, on the back of her desk chair.

  “Yeah, but it was past the drop date, and if I withdrew I’d be set back a whole semester. My scholarship is only for four years, so I’d be wasting a semester of free tuition.”