Hunter and Hunted (The Shifter Chronicles 4)

by M. D. Grimm

  It would make things so much easier if he wasn’t physically attracted to the knight. Hunter was delightfully masculine and smelled very nice—musky with a hint of leather. Scents Glenn wasn’t used to. He knew the scent of the forest, his herd, and the scent of danger on the wind. Even in human form, his sense of smell was stronger than most humans’, and that made it difficult to live in a heavily populated area. Humans, while varied and intriguing, knew how to make a place stink.

  Glenn lay down next to Hunter, lying on his side, facing the confused knight. Well, this would be an interesting way to test Hunter’s sincerity. Glenn knew Hunter liked the look of him, if the faint scent of arousal was any indication, and yet a true knight would never act on those desires. Glenn was certain of that. Shifters were repulsive, abominations to the Knights. To be with one intimately was akin to bestiality in their eyes.

  Glenn slowly reached over and brushed his fingertips over the short, coarse hair on Hunter’s head. Then he trailed his hand down the side of Hunter’s face, finding the skin there smooth except for the stubble around his chin. Hunter needed a shave.

  Hunter’s eyes were open now and Glenn didn’t stop. He couldn’t. What began as a test for Hunter became an exploration for Glenn. He was fascinated, almost as much as Hunter seemed to be with him. A knight with doubts. A knight with confusion. Glenn had never met such a creature—he would never have thought one existed.

  Maybe Glenn had been too closed-minded—too generalizing. Huh.

  Brown eyes met his, and Glenn rested his hand on Hunter’s firm chest, feeling the rise and fall of it as he breathed. The forest around them was subdued, interrupted by the occasional hoot of an owl or the rustle of some creature walking by in search of food. The wind was calm and daintily brushed the leaves, making them scratch against each other. Glenn knew all these sounds, and he found Hunter’s presence was so strange and distracting that he had to know all about him. He needed to know without a shadow of a doubt that Hunter was sincere in his search for truth and that he wasn’t a threat to Glenn’s home.

  “Who are you?” Glenn whispered, watching Hunter’s eyes. He knew Hunter understood just how deep that question went. And how much was riding on it.

  “Just a man,” Hunter whispered back. “A man who wants to know the truth. I need to know the truth.”

  “But can you handle it?” Glenn asked. Then a chuckle escaped him before he could stop it. That scene from A Few Good Men flashed in his mind. The corners of Hunter’s mouth quirked and while the tension eased slightly, the seriousness stayed.

  “I hope I can,” Hunter said. “If I don’t accept the truth then I don’t deserve it. I deserve to be blind.”

  Glenn smiled slightly. “You say that now, but—”

  “I mean it.” Hunter grabbed Glenn’s hand that lay on his chest, and Glenn’s heart banged painfully against his ribs. Hunter’s hand was callused and larger than his own, his grip controlled. Hunter wasn’t careless with his strength. He knew when and where to use it. There was also no hesitancy in the touch—no evidence of revulsion.

  “I want you to help me find the truth.” He was still whispering but there was urgency in his voice now. “Help me find it, Glenn, and I swear on my life I will never harm you. Or those you love.”

  Glenn squeezed Hunter’s hand. “If you decide your family is right, they will want you to kill me and mine.”

  “I swear,” Hunter said, his voice low, his eyes hard. “I will never harm you or those you love. Ever.”

  Glenn believed him. And with that came relief so profound, he suddenly became weak and he dropped his head on Hunter’s chest, their hands still gripped together. Hunter jerked in surprise, but he wasn’t shoved off. In fact, Hunter gentled his grip and he slipped his other arm around Glenn’s shoulders, pulling him closer to his body.

  Glenn didn’t fight. Instead, he curled contently against Hunter, enjoying his warmth, his honesty, and the gentleness he sensed in the man’s soul. To be adopted by the Knights as a child, trained by them, have them as your family, and still be able to doubt their beliefs, their goals—Glenn counted himself lucky to know such a man.

  Hunter was truly fascinating.

  Hunter helped Glenn walk as the deer shifter led them deeper into the forest. Glenn wanted to be closer to water, and Hunter didn’t argue. He still couldn’t get over the intimacy of the night before. Glenn had slept in his arms, warm and comforting. They’d touched, and Glenn’s eyes had been beautiful in the night, lit by the fire. Hunter had wanted him powerfully as they held hands, but he’d also been frozen with fear, unsure if he should proceed. Shouldn’t his attraction toward Glenn feel wrong? He was a shifter, after all. Not human, something completely different.

  Hunter knew what his family would say. He could hear the outrage, could see the disgust and disappointment in his mother’s eyes. It pained him and made him stumble.

  “Careful,” Glenn said, grabbing his arm. “Don’t hurt yourself. Where would we be if both of us were crippled?”

  Hunter smiled, knowing Glenn wanted to see it, and wondered why he was so eager to please the shifter. Shouldn’t he want to please his family? What was wrong with him that he couldn’t? Why did he feel more at home with Glenn than he ever did with his mother? Or any of the other knights? Was there something wrong with him or them? Why this sense of ease with Glenn while with his family he always felt watched? Judged?

  “Let’s stop for a minute,” Glenn said.

  “All right.”

  Glenn still wore Hunter’s jacket, along with a pair of pants he’d let Glenn borrow, with a length of rope to tie them around his waist. Glenn wasn’t as broad as Hunter. He would have offered the pants the night before but they’d still been at each other’s throats then, and Hunter was certain Glenn would have rejected the offer on principle. This morning, however, Glenn and smiled with gratitude, the expression lighting up his face. Hunter wished he had some boots for the shifter, but he had nothing to spare. Glenn’s feet were dirty and scratched, and Hunter was tempted to carry him on his back, but he got a feeling Glenn would scoff at the idea.

  Glenn rested his hands on his hips and appeared to smell the air, cocking his head slightly. He stood like a deer, silent and watchful, and the resemblance was startling. Hunter watched him with pleasure, remembering their bodies pressed together, remembering the feeling of rightness.

  His mother would be appalled, and anger flashed through him. Hunter turned away, hands clenched into fists. He knew it was irrational to be angry at his family, who didn’t even know Glenn existed, but the hatred in which they spoke of shifters was extended to this kind creature. Hunter had never met someone so compassionate and willing to understand. Glenn was certainly not perfect but—he was lovely. Inside and out. There was no denying that.

  “Do shifters age as humans do?” Hunter asked.

  Glenn looked at him. “Of course.”

  “Even in animal form?”

  “Yes,” Glenn said with a smile. “There are many shifters who choose to live their lives exclusively in their primal forms, and their lifespans aren’t shortened.”

  Hunter considered that. “You are fascinating creatures.”

  Glenn grinned and Hunter was momentarily staggered by it. The grin reached his eyes and spread joyfully across his face. He really was beautiful.

  They continued on their way, Hunter’s hand gently but firmly holding Glenn’s arm. As they moved off the well-worn trails, they encountered fallen trunks and uneven ground. Hunter helped Glenn navigate around and over the obstacles, but sometimes Hunter felt Glenn was simply humoring him, that he didn’t actually need any help. In retrospect, Hunter realized Glenn probably didn’t need any assistance—the shifter had grown up in these woods. He probably played here as a child, in both forms.

  “How old are you?” Hunter asked as they stopped again to rest. Glenn sat on a fallen tree, and Hunter leaned against a standing one.

  Glenn glanced at him. “I was born twenty-eight sp
rings ago.”

  Hunter would never have guessed he was nearly thirty.

  “You?” Glenn asked.

  Hunter cleared his throat and looked away, suddenly embarrassed by his youth. He muttered, “Twenty.”

  Glenn grinned again. Hunter’s body reacted predictably enough, and the memory of what was under those clothes came to the forefront of his mind.

  “So young.” Glenn’s lively gaze wandered over his body, and Hunter felt blood rush to his face… and south of his belt. “Young enough to still have the desire and the ability to learn and change.”

  Hunter said nothing to that. “You don’t look twenty-eight.”

  Glenn laughed. “Thanks for that. I don’t feel old, that’s for sure. But my herd always hints that I should find a mate and settle down. Two of my siblings already have mates, and I guess they think it’s my turn.”

  “How many siblings do you have?” Hunter asked, genuinely curious. The more Glenn talked about his herd, the closer Hunter felt to him. The less foreign and strange shifters seemed.

  “Three,” Glenn said with a roll of his eyes. “And one of them has a kid. And there’s another one on the way.”

  “Wow,” Hunter said.

  “Do you have siblings?”

  Hunter shook his head. “No. Orphan, you know. But I did grow up with other kids in the Knights and—I guess I could call them siblings.”

  He paused to think about it. Could he call them siblings? They’d trained together, but the boys and girls were always separated and private conversations were never allowed. They were always monitored. It was only when they returned from their rite of passage that they were given the freedom to mingle with anyone they wished. That was their second birth into the family. The true birth.

  “Hunter?” Glenn asked. “Are you okay? You look a little—”

  “I’m fine,” Hunter said curtly. He turned away and stretched.

  “Are you sure? Is it about the Knights—”

  “I’m fine,” Hunter snapped, his muscles tensing. Glenn fell silent behind him, and Hunter dared not look back.

  “Are you rested?” Hunter asked, hearing the hardness in his own voice. “Can we leave?”

  “Yes.” Glenn’s voice was stiff, and Hunter couldn’t stop himself from glancing back. Glenn avoided his gaze limped forward. Hunter followed, no longer helping, and his suspicions were confirmed that Glenn never needed his assistance in the first place.

  They reached a stream and Hunter dropped his bag as Glenn sat down at the edge. He dipped his hand into the water and cupped some in his palm. Glenn drank and Hunter felt guilty for snapping at him. Glenn’s concern was genuine, and he didn’t know how to react to it. The Knights weren’t very sympathetic. Neither was his mother.

  “I’m sorry,” Hunter whispered, kneeling down beside Glenn. “I’m really not this rude all the time.”

  Glenn chuckled and relief loosened Hunter’s muscles.

  “I know.” Glenn met his gaze. “And it’s not like I haven’t been rude either. This isn’t an ideal situation for anyone.”

  Glenn touched the back of his hand, and Hunter wanted to lean into the shifter. Why did he feel such a pull toward him? Why did he suddenly feel like he’d been waiting his entire life for Glenn?

  “No one wants to believe that the people who raised them are not good people,” Glenn said gently, his eyes soft. “Especially an orphan, who I can only imagine would crave a family.”

  “I certainly did,” Hunter said, sitting on the ground next to Glenn, still holding his hand. “I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t normal like everyone else. Why was I so different? Why didn’t I have parents?”

  “Do you remember your birth parents?” Glenn asked.

  Hunter closed his eyes, trying to remember. “Just images. I don’t know who they were. I was just abandoned on the doorstep of the orphanage when I was three. I really don’t remember anything important.”

  Glenn sighed. “I’m sorry. That was wrong of them.”

  Hunter shrugged, turning away from the old wound and focused on Glenn’s pretty face. “They gave me my best chance. I don’t hate them. I don’t know them. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  Glenn nodded. “Okay. I get it. We can just sit here.”

  Hunter considered the bright blue sky. It was still chilly and the sun wasn’t very warm, but the beauty of the place and the warmth of Glenn beside him were comforting. He was at peace and didn’t want to return to the Knights. He’d felt so anxious with them, a fact he only now realized. Did he still want to be a knight?

  Glenn leaned closer and Hunter turned his head. His vision suddenly became reality. Glenn was leaning toward him, and Hunter decided in that moment to not resist the attraction that was so obvious between them.

  Glenn’s lips were soft. Hesitant. Hunter closed his eyes and leaned in. He slipped his arms around Glenn, pressing him to his chest. Glenn wrapped his arms around Hunter’s neck, stroking his hands up and down his back. Their chests pressed together and Hunter changed the angle of the kiss. Glenn moaned and slid his tongue into Hunter’s mouth. Hunter shuddered and, without thinking, shoved Glenn to the ground, half on top of him.

  The kiss was slow and passionate. It burned Hunter all the way to his toes, and he wasn’t still as he rubbed his body against Glenn’s, needing to feel all of him. Glenn lowered his arms, gripping Hunter’s butt, and Hunter clearly felt Glenn’s erection. Only a slim pair of pants and an old jacket stood between him and another eyeful of Glenn’s rangy body.

  But as his hands drifted to the waistband of the pants, his mother’s voice clanged in his head, disrupting his intentions.

  “They’re abominations, Hunter.” Janice’s voice was always so soothing and gentle, even when she was describing the evilness of shifters. “They seduce us, and the Agency is full of those who have fallen to their wiles. We are the ones who are strong enough to resist their charms. We are the ones chosen to purify this world from their evil.

  “You must understand this, Hunter.” Her gaze had bored into his, dark and intense. “To touch a shifter, to become intimate with a shifter, is to contaminate your soul. You do that, you will be destroyed along with the shifters. Your alliance should only be with the Knights. Do you understand?”

  Hunter pulled away. He sat up on his knees and covered his face with his hands. What was he to believe? If his mother was right, then he was falling into the shifter’s spell. But what if his mother was wrong? Then she was horribly misinformed or exactly what Glenn said she was: a monster.

  What the fuck was he to believe? Who was he to trust? Maybe he was completely wrong and he shouldn’t trust Glenn and just—

  “Hunter?” Glenn said, panting. He sat up and touched his arm.

  Hunter jerked away and stood, backing up.

  “Hunter, what happened?” Glenn stood.

  Hunter shook his head, unable to find his voice.

  “Look.” Glenn approached him again but stopped when Hunter backed farther away. “We can stop. That’s fine. Why do you look so scared?”

  “I—” Hunter ran his hands over his head. “I don’t know what to believe. Are my feelings for you real or—”

  “They’re real,” Glenn said firmly. Hunter dared a look at him and recognized the anger in Glenn’s eyes as well as the concern.

  “Whatever you’re feeling is real. What I feel is real. I want you, Hunter, and I know you want me. That’s okay—”

  “Okay?” Hunter hissed and flung his hands in the air. “How do I know that? How do I know that what my family says about shifters isn’t true? How do I know that you don’t have powers of seduction and that you’re not trying to corrupt my soul?”

  He was yelling and he wished he could stop, but the confusion was making him crazy.

  “I want you,” he said. “But I don’t know if it’s because I genuinely want you, or if it’s because you’re doing some weird magic on me.”

  “Are you really that stupid?”
Glenn cut him off, eyes flashing. “Do you really not know your own feelings? Do you not know when your own desires are real?”

  “I don’t—I don’t know.” Hunter turned away and covered his face with his hand. “I just don’t know, Glenn. I don’t know who to believe or what to believe. How do I know that what I choose to believe is wrong or right? How do I know—”

  “How do I know that you won’t betray me to the Knights?” Glenn said.

  Hunter gaped. “You really think that—after all this—”

  “What am I supposed to think? I’m the one who’s losing my mind, Hunter,” Glenn said, steaming. “I should be running for the hills! I should be getting as far away from you as I can. But I’m not—why is that?”

  “I won’t harm you,” Hunter said for what felt like the umpteenth time. “How many times must I say that?”

  “About as many times as I have to say that shifters aren’t the enemy and that the Knights are evil.”

  Hunter closed his eyes and looked away. He heard Glenn sigh.

  “Do you feel it, Hunter? This pull between us? This strange feeling that we should trust each other?”

  Hunter opened his eyes and slowly turned his head to look at Glenn. He felt it. It shocked him to realize that Glenn felt it as well.

  “I—feel it. It’s just—hard to break years of training,” Hunter said quietly.

  Glenn stared at him and Hunter couldn’t read his expression. “Let me make a suggestion. Forget everything the Knights have said, forget everything I have said. At this moment, in this place, what does your gut tell you? Listen to your instincts, Hunter. Then tell me what you believe.”

  Hunter lowered his hand and stared at the ground. The life of the forest flourished around him. The wind kissed his face and the stream burbled along unhindered and uncorrupted. The glint of the sun on the water seemed to change it from something normal and beautiful to something mystical. Water. The symbol of purification, cleansing. The symbol of transformation and the eternal.