The Bridal Hunt (Brides of the Hunt Book 1)

by Jeanette Lynn

  "I shoot you, you shoot me. We all win," he said simply.

  Eyes widening, my mouth worked but nothing came out. Soaking up my reaction, he just smiled.

  "We could be like Romeo and Juliet. Destined to love each other in death, if not in life."

  Someone needed to read that story again, then get a freaking life.

  "I don't love you," I told him coldly, "but I'd gladly see you rot in Hell."

  His face hardened and he grimaced. "Well, if I can't have you, no one can. Does that work for you?" His thumb lifted and he cocked the hammer back.

  I whimpered, trembling. “Don’t make me do this.”

  “Me? Why, pumpkin, I’m not making you do anything.”

  “Bullshit.” And that ended the conversation.

  This is it, Mina, now or never. My palms were sweaty as I adjusted my stance, fingers itchy and twitching, heart racing wildly, thudding loudly in my chest. Oh god... I don’t know... I just don’t know...

  There was a loud whizzing noise, whipping past right as George opened his mouth to speak, a sharp thwip that had me ducking to toss my hands over my head. As if in slow motion, I gasped while dropping down, gaping as something flew past my ear.

  Jerking in reaction, hands still half way to their destination, I watched, stunned, as an arrow whipped by out of nowhere, zipping past me and right through George's left hand.

  Cringing, expecting more, my hands wrapped around my head, gun still clutched in my right, and I tucked, rolling right as George screamed and cursed, crying out in anguish.

  Are there other beings around here, like the Lo denaii, I wondered. Had we just pissed some of them off?

  George must’ve squeezed his gun’s trigger right before the arrow hit, a nice bang to accompany his manly screams shooting off throughout the forest. It had fired, sure enough, the bullet striking where I'd been standing just moments before, deafening us both once more as it fired.

  Using both hands to steady myself, ears ringing so loud I could barely hear, I lifted my own, aimed and fired.

  The bullet hit its mark and George jerked, his own weapon slipping from his slackened grip, and he went to clutch his chest. Crying out, he gasped in shock as crimson spilled out across his abdomen, sticky and hot. Head lifting, he gaped at me.

  Lips trembling, he whispered my name and held a hand out to me. Wobbling, he kept the hand with the arrow shoved through pressed to his chest, right over his bullet wound, the other held out beseechingly.

  Bile filling my throat, I felt sick, choked cries escaping me as I stared in disbelief at what I'd just done.

  I shot him... Oh god. I just shot him. I’ve just killed him.

  "Give me... th... the... gun. It's m-m... my...turn," he garbled out, hazel eyes trained on my face. Choking on his own blood, foaming blood bubbles gurgling out of him, he lurched towards me. “No-no one can have you... but me!”

  Screaming, my eyes squeezing shut tight, I let off a shot. Trembling from head to toe, I kept firing, aiming in his general direction as I cocked the hammer back each time to pull the trigger. Mindless, I kept going until I snapped out of it and it clicked that the gun was empty.

  There was a loud thump not two feet away from me, and I cracked an eye open to find George slumped on the ground, dead eyes staring sightlessly at the sky, his face turned the slightest bit towards me.

  One of the bullets had gone through his forehead, the hole it left behind staring back at me, gaping at me as blood dribbled out from the ugly wound to splash across the forest floor.

  My stomach lurched and I turned away, stumbling a ways away from the gruesome sight before I puked. Retching violently, I sobbed openly, clutching at my stomach.

  Crying hysterically as I called out for my mates, I closed my eyes and shook my head, scooting farther away from the scene before me.

  The image of his sightless, dead eyes, staring off and upwards in my direction, his hand held out, lifeless fingers angled towards me—the bullet wounds that I had put there—leaving bloodied, gaping holes in his once living corpse—brought me to my knees.

  I cried out then, unable to take it anymore—half shriek, half scream—and dropped the gun, curling up where I knelt to bury my head in my knees. Legs pulled to my chest, an apology on my lips, I rocked myself and sobbed.

  "Meanie?" Veck's voice called out.

  "Meanie!" Kirch bellowed.

  At the sound of their voices I sobbed harder.

  Strong arms wrapped around me, scooping me up and holding me, tucking me close to a thick, furry chest to rock me as my mates all called out for me from a distance. A deep, masculine voice answered, bellowing back at them, beckoning them over. The sound rumbled against my ear, the side of my face pressed to his chest.

  Hiccupping, I looked up through bleary eyes to find Tarnk cradling me, his oversized bow slung over his uninjured shoulder.

  "Meanie no cry. Brave. Very Brave. George want hurt Meanie. Meanie hurt first," the archer soothed.

  "But I... I shot him," I whispered, horrified. "I killed him."

  "Meanie protect babies.” Tarnk shook his head. “Meanie good mate." His hands smoothed down my hair, then my neck, slipping farther.

  Rubbing my back, he started humming in the back of his throat. The noise vibrated against my spine as I curled into him, a sort of soothing lullaby that rumbled along my frazzled nerves.

  Sniffling, I stared up into his gaze, opening my mouth as if to speak. I hadn't thought about it that way. Hadn’t had more than a moment to think about any of this, it all happened so fast.

  “But... but I shot him...” I was too stunned to even truly comprehend. “Oh god...” Chin dipping, I felt like my heart was breaking into a million tiny pieces, the tears starting anew.

  Tarnk made a disgruntled noise and pulled me closer, his humming growing louder. Burying my face in his chest, I let go, let it all go.

  Sobbing uncontrollably, my frame shook and I gripped the fur on his chest to the point I might actually be causing him pain, but not once did he ask me to stop, nor did the big beastie let me go.

  His hum deep and steady in his throat, Tarnk held on tight.

  “Meanie protect Meanie. George bad. Bad in head.” Tarnk chuffed, his chest rumbling hard, and nuzzled the top of my head. “Kill, or kill Meanie. Meanie good. No cry. Shh. Shh, Meanie.”

  No matter what he said, right or wrong, I kept going back to the fact that I’d just shot somebody, I’d taken a life.

  He was right, though, I knew—somewhere, in that as of yet fully tapped part of my brain, I understood this. George would have killed me and my babies if I hadn't acted first.

  He was a madman, and he was going to shoot me, there was no doubt of his intentions, which he’d made quite clear. By his own admission, he'd wanted to kill me. Didn't exactly make me feel all warm and fuzzy about this whole thing, but it was the truth.

  Veck and Kirch came upon us moments later, spotting us huddled beneath a huge tree, George’s body a short distance away, and rushed in.

  "You saved my life," I told Tarnk, smiling shakily through my tears. Hands trembling so hard I had to struggle to make them work, I reached up and hugged him, my voice as unsteady and distressed as the rest of me.

  Tarnk cleared his throat uncomfortably, hesitating for a moment before he pulled me to him and returned the embrace. “Meanie good,” he rumbled in my ear.

  "Bia!" Kirch bellowed, then started shouting out in Lo denaii.

  Soon I was plucked out of Tarnk's arms and sandwiched between Kirch and Veck.

  "Meanie okay?" Veck asked worriedly, wiping the tears from my eyes.

  "Meanie hurt?" Kirch demanded, his hands roaming over my torso and hips to check for injury.

  Fresh tears slowly slid down my cheeks and I let them, sobbing for what felt like the millionth time as I shook my head.

  "I shot him," I admitted, then buried my face in Veck's neck and cried about it all over again, letting everything out from the warmth and safety of my mates.<
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  ✽✽✽

  Eyes unfocused, I watched as the steam rising from the tub misted around me. Staring off into space, I tried to let everything sink in, particularly the fact that it was all over. I didn’t know if it ever would.

  George was never going to bother me again, and he was never going to hurt anyone else—ever.

  Gaze wandering idly, I glanced over at the door, the spot where Berkr had lain, bloody and injured. I could picture it all perfectly, the image still so fresh—branded into my mind.

  A hand dipped into the water and Bia caressed my knee. "How are you feeling?" he asked tentatively, expression stormy.

  Just from the look in his eyes, I knew he felt responsible somehow, guilt eating him up from the inside out.

  He felt as if he’d failed me somehow because he wasn't there to protect and help me, wasn’t there for me when I’d needed him most. But how could anyone have guessed that's what would have happened?

  Sighing softly, I slipped my hand over his and squeezed. Using my other hand, I cupped his face, stroking it tenderly.

  I couldn't really say this was truly anyone's fault except George's.

  Now I just had to keep telling myself that fifty or sixty million times, until my gut stopped clenching and the guilt clinging to me like a bad smell dissipated.

  "I love you," I told my mate honestly, stating the only absolute in my life at this moment, my mind a scrambled mess.

  "I love you too, Mina, my sweet." Smiling handsomely, he purred, kissing me sweetly, his eyes going all soft.

  Taking a deep breath, I smiled a little back. "I'll try not to beat myself up about all of this as long as you don't, either."

  "But, Mina, you didn't... I was the one who..."

  My lips thinned and I shook my head. "Deal?" I asked loudly, a sharp edge to my voice.

  Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Bia leaned over the tub, water sloshing everywhere, yanking me towards him, and hugged me.

  "Deal," he whispered hoarsely, burying his face in my neck, inhaling deeply.

  He shuddered for a minute, trying to get ahold of himself, emotion clogging his throat when he tried to speak. Nuzzling his cheek, I held him to me, stroking his hair and murmuring to him softly.

  "Bia not fit in water with Meanie," Veck teased, cutting in on our little moment.

  Snorting, I let go to give Veck a small smile, chuckling the tiniest bit as I wiped my eyes. "How is Berkr?" I asked them all.

  "Berkr live, Dorothy think. Berkr tough Lo denaii," Kirch said after a moment, sharing a long look with Veck.

  I’d already told them everything that had happened, once I’d calmed down enough to be considered coherent, explaining in detail all George had admitted as they'd steered me out of the woods, farther away from the body, and taken me home.

  The body... I shivered a little in the water, trying not to full on shudder.

  "Meanie hungry?" Kirch asked.

  "Thirsty?" Bia prompted.

  "Meanie tired," Veck announced. Pushing past Kirch, he strode towards me and scooped me up, plucking me up and out.

  Placing my feet carefully on the floor, his hands were gentle and thorough as he methodically toweled me off with a large piece of cloth. Once he felt I was sufficiently dry, he picked me up and placed me in the middle of the bed.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he motioned for Kirch and Bia to join us. Bia crawled in from the bottom, resting his head on my lower stomach, his arms wrapping around my hips as he cuddled me. I stroked his hair while he purred, smiling to myself while he nuzzled my belly.

  Veck and Kirch each took a side, Kirch wrapping his arm over my breasts, his head on my shoulder as he kissed me sweetly. Veck put his arm over my lower ribs, his chin resting on my head as he started to purr happily.

  Soon I felt myself relaxing, all of the tension draining from me. Cocooned with my mates, I basked in their protection, their love, and their warmth.

  "I love you," I whispered, closing my eyes. Safe—I feel safe with them. So loved, and so safe.

  I smiled when I got three loud purrs and ‘I love you, too’s back.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Eight months later

  "I

  feel like I'm going to pop," I whined at my big, hairy baboon as I tried to stretch my back.

  "Meanie feels good to Kirch," Kirch murmured huskily, his hands rubbing over my enormous belly, kissing wherever it thumped from one of the baby's playing Olympic gymnast in there.

  Lips quirking, I giggled and swatted his hand away. "None of that or you might break my water," I joked.

  "Meanie water not break from Kirch's cock, Kirch not read that in here." Smug, he held up the pregnancy book one of the men had gotten ahold of, tapping it knowingly.

  I preferred not to think about how they'd gotten it, simply reminding myself that it was a sweet gesture to assuage my numerous fears as I crept closer and closer to impending motherhood.

  "No, but if I'm far enough along, it could help send me into labor," I shot back.

  "Where it say that?" Kirch argued, brow crinkling, waving the book around.

  "You know..." I grumbled, snatching the book back to toss it on the bed, “not everything is in a book!” Baring my teeth, I reached up to give his mane a teasing yank. “I think I liked you much better when you couldn't read or talk all that well."

  Kirch snorted and rolled off the bed, teeth flashing in a predatory smile. "Meanie likes Kirch juuust fine." Grinning his shit eating grin, he winked and sauntered from the room.

  I could still make out his laugh, echoing down the hall after he ducked the pillow I threw at him. I’d missed, but I was close.

  "Oh, har-har.” Puffing out a breath, I huffed, but then genius struck. “Veck!" I shouted. "Kirch is being mean to me!"

  "Kirch hurt Meanie's feelings?" my big bad beastie shouted back after a moment.

  "Yes! I'm feeling... delicate!" I hollered back.

  There was a loud thump and a thud.

  I grinned as Kirch yelped and snarled. "Bad Meanie!"

  Another thump rent the air and he growled from the other room. He always reverts back to his caveman talk when he's mad, I thought, sporting an evil grin.

  Wiggling around, I tried to roll myself over, struggling to get up off the bed.

  "Need some assistance, my sweet?" Bia strode in and helped me the rest of the way up. Bussing my cheek, he kissed my lips, then leaned in, bending down, and kissed my belly. "How are you feeling this morning?" Rubbing my back lightly, he followed me into the bathroom.

  "Like a whale," I admitted, sighing when I poured a pitcher of water into the basin bowl to splash cold water on my face. It helped cool me off a little, but the heat was becoming a problem.

  "Well, you look beautiful to me," he purred, meeting my gaze to waggle his bushy eyebrows.

  Returning his smile, I elbowed him playfully.

  Gasping suddenly, I grimaced, a sudden, sharp pain hitting me, as if I’d pulled something in my back. Youch!

  "Hey, are you okay?" Frowning, spotting my grimacing scowl, he went to rub my back some more.

  Grunting, I waited until the pain lessened to answer. It slowly eased up, stopping as quickly as it had started, and I sighed in relief. That, whatever it was, hadn’t been pleasant.

  "Yeah. Ugh. I think I just kinked my back or something. I don’t know. It’s been bugging me." Sighing exaggeratedly, I moaned as his magical fingers soothed my sore muscles.

  "Bia!" Veck shouted. "You be late!"

  "Coming!" he shouted back.

  "I think we only have one volume in this house." Peeking at him from over my shoulder, I laughed.

  "Will you be alright here by yourself for a little while? We want to make sure everything is ready,” my handsome mate murmured, nuzzling my ear.

  "Yeah-yeah," I grumbled. "Unless someone rolls off with my roly poly-ness, I don't see how I'd really go anywhere."

  "You're perfect," he contradicted, shutting me up with a kiss.
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  With one more farewell smooch he was off, hurrying after Veck.

  When I heard them all rush out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the windows behind them, I laughed. Then the door opened and banged shut again as Bia hurried after.

  Can't do that once the babies get here, I thought, chuckling.

  Tidying up behind everyone, scooping up Kirch’s woodworking tools and two of Bia’s worn out, faded books, I strolled around the house, trying to straighten things up as I went.

  I felt energized all of a sudden, eager to work off my sudden burst of energy. I didn’t quite understand it but I wasn’t about to let it go to waste. It was like I’d had a double shot of caffeine, I was so amped up.

  ✽✽✽

  About an hour or so passed, my chores almost finished, when there was a knock at the door. Surprised, I waddled up to it to glance through the peephole, the one I'd pleaded they find a way to put in our new cottage’s—more like house, from the size of this place—door.

  My paranoia after everything that had passed with George, I feared, would never fade. Bia had come up with the idea to make the spy-hole with one of the clear crystals he works with, shaping and smoothing it until it fit just right.

  Our new house, I thought distractedly, sighing quietly. We’ve come a long way, all of us. A lot has gone on since the whole George nightmare, and through it all we’ve become closer than ever—a real family group.

  Some days I have trouble with what happened—I really struggled with it—nightmares, guilt—I ran the gamut. And some days... Some days I didn't.

  You don’t ever get over something like that, but you do, at least to my way of thinking, find ways to keep going. You find things to live for.

  It changes you, and how could it not? I know I appreciate what I have that much more for it all, and my mates do, too. Life is so precious and fleeting, and I have three wonderful mates to help me get through the rough patches, and vice versa.

  The knocking on the door sounded again, a bit harder, more persistent, jolting me out of my musings. I glanced to the door, still a bit distracted, mired in my own thoughts, admiring its beautiful design. A lot of thought and care went into this piece, the wood carefully shaped and decorated the way my mates thought I'd like it.