Rowan always caused the same immediate reactions to seize him—awe and lust. Of course, every guy had the same response in her presence. If Trevor had to guess, she was hoping to capitalize on the effect she had on the opposite sex. Probably for the same reason he was wandering around. They needed a lead on the redcaps.
Seven weeks had gone by without finding Craig or his brothers. Every day that passed benefited the redcaps, allowing them to build up their army of sluaghs. They had to be stopped. That didn’t mean he wanted her mingling with the city’s scum in order to do so.
Trevor closed the distance between him and Rowan. After a few feet, her grip on the chains tightened, showcasing the sleek muscles in her arms. Thin with a chest that made his mouth water and legs that went on forever, she was probably one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on.
Who was he kidding? She was fantasy-worthy. If she could keep her mouth shut, she’d be the perfect woman.
“I didn’t know Hunters took breaks.” He met her gaze on the upward part of her arc so as to avoid looking up her skirt. “Or is this what Arawn’s children do all night? Play?”
One corner of her mouth lifted in a condescending smirk. She stretched out those incredibly long legs and leaned farther back so her hair skimmed the ground on her next swing. Her heeled sandals slipped from her feet, and her skirt bunched, exposing the dark panties he’d been avoiding looking at. Green. Dark green. The color matched her eyes.
He widened his stance in an attempt to give his dick more room. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Her silence surprised him. Normally, she didn’t miss an opportunity to argue with him.
She swung a few more times, then hopped down, landing easily on her feet. With her signature fingerless gloves covering her hands, she smoothed the black skirt, then tugged on the hot-pink, short-sleeved top until a healthy dose of cleavage showed. Then she bent, giving him an even better glimpse of her boobs, and picked up her shoes. She hooked a single finger around the straps and sashayed toward him.
Hunger showed in her eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it, but something about the predatory glint tensed his muscles. Whereas before the look had held a teasing edge, as if she knew what her presence did to him and enjoyed seeing him react, this expression spoke of raw need. Lust.
Rowan dropped her shoes and stroked a finger along his cheek. He’d shaved before coming out tonight, something he rarely did if he wasn’t going into the office. Since he’d been laid up for weeks recovering from the wounds that would’ve ended his life had he been attacked in the mortal world, he hadn’t bothered making the trip down the mountain. He had a competent staff working for him, and most of the work he normally did for the security firm he and Ian owned was easy enough to accomplish remotely.
“You should shave more often. Actually…” She stood on her tiptoes and rubbed her cheek against his jaw where the first hint of his beard showed. “It’s a shame you can’t stay just like this. Enough stubble to tease a woman, but not enough to distract her.”
“The next time I have a lover’s spread thighs in front of me, I’ll have to ask her if she agrees with you.”
Instead of being irritated, Rowan chuckled and slipped her hand to the back of his neck. Her tug urged him to bend closer to her. He locked his muscles. Rowan’s attention focused on him wasn’t anything special. She flirted with any guy who had a pulse. He knew why too. Ian had clued him in. She used sex as a distraction and something to pass the time. Her heart belonged to her long-dead mate. All she had left for other men was mindless sex.
While Trevor didn’t normally mind being used that way, her connection to the Wild Hunt nixed his interest. The old advice of not getting involved with coworkers was one he adhered to, especially when he wanted to prove to her elder brother that he was worthy of being a Huntsman. Somehow he didn’t think Calan would be too happy to learn that Trevor was banging his sister.
“When was the last time you had a woman in your bed?” Rowan asked.
“Don’t you know?” He cocked a brow. He wouldn’t admit to something she knew. Her next question would then be—why? Nope. Not going there. “You do make a habit of being in the hallway when I step out of my bedroom every evening.”
He’d fallen into the same sleep cycle as the Huntsmen, at least the ones who slept. Being demigods, mortal habits such as sleeping and eating were optional. Sex, however, was one pleasure they indulged in. Not that anyone living at the estate would bring a lover there, including him, but he wanted to put Rowan on the spot. Fluster her a little. The woman was too damn moody. Seeing her blush would make his night.
“My bedroom is next to yours.” She moved her hands to his chest and undid the top few buttons of his shirt. “It’s completely coincidental.”
A wall separated her bed from his. A few inches. It drove him nuts knowing she was so close. He couldn’t help wondering how she slept, if she wore clothes to bed, if she touched herself. Thinking of her always left him hard and achy, but he’d refused to jerk off. The Hunters had enhanced senses. How good, he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t wanted to find out. That was all he needed, for Rowan to hear him masturbating. She would’ve likely come over with an offer to help.
“You do seem to enjoy sleeping.”
“I do.” She undid the remaining buttons on his shirt. “It passes the time.”
That was her reasoning behind everything she did outside of hunting the evil walking the earth. “Is that why you were playing on the swings tonight? Passing time when you should’ve been out looking for redcap activity?”
“My hounds are searching for me. You know how it is, I see what they see, and they haven’t spotted anything”—she tugged his shirt from his pants—“besides you.”
The inability to draw the attention of the city’s lowlifes made sense in light of her revelation. She didn’t have to morph into her Hunter’s form in order to strike fear in the hearts of those close by. Her dangerous aura did it for her…if she let it trickle out. It didn’t bother him, though. Probably because he was used to it. Whatever the reason, he was glad he never feared her. Lusting for her was bad enough.
“So what? You were waiting for me to stumble over you.”
“I want you over me, under me”—she slipped one hand around his waist, the other to cover the bulge in his pants—“or maybe tied to my bed and at my mercy.”
He grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away from his cock. “Pity that’s not going to happen.”
“And why not? We’re both consenting adults.”
“True, but that last little qualifier killed the deal for me. I prefer my lovers begging me for my dick. It’s good for the ego, especially after they’ve ridden it a few times and know exactly what I can do for them.”
“Then you’ve never had a fitting partner in your bed. There’s a level of ecstasy that can only be found when you give your lover complete control over your body.”
“I’m sure there’s truth in that, but I haven’t experienced it. Have you?”
Her expression closed off. Her body stiffened. And the color drained from her face. She stepped back, breaking their connection.
“Yes, Trevor, I have.”
With those softly spoken words, she turned her back on him and walked away.
He debated going after her. It hadn’t been his intention to hurt her or remind her of her long-dead mate, the one she still mourned even after a millennium. He’d bet that was what he’d done too. A woman like Rowan would only surrender to a man she loved.
He picked up her shoes and headed back the way he’d come. He had to get home before the hounds, who were no doubt watching him from the shadows, had to fade into the Underworld for the day. Otherwise, Rowan would be back, and he didn’t need the reminder of how he’d hurt her. Once was enough.
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Author’s Note
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About the Author
Nancy Corrigan is a dreamer who one day decided to write down what the voices in her head were telling her. When she's not lost in her imagination, she's busy being a wife, mother, and chemist. Yes, she might run on caffeine some days as she juggles all her roles, but that's okay. She loves coffee.
Nancy resides in Pennsylvania with her husband, their three children, dog, snake, cats, turtle, tortoises, mouse, and guinea pig. Her other interests include tattoos, animals, classic cars, and mythology.
Nancy also writes under the pen names: Hayden Wolfe and Dana Archer, but no matter what name she uses, the values she upholds—courage, truth, honor, fidelity, discipline, hospitality, self reliance, industriousness, perseverance—are the same.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Nancy Corrigan, #247, 325 N 10th St. Ste. 400, Lewisburg, PA 17837
Cursed Copyright © 2016 by Nancy Corrigan
Edited by Linda Ingmanson
Cover Art by Wicked Smart Designs
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Electronic publication: June 2020 (3rd edition) - previously released as Hunter Forsaken
www.NancyCorriganBooks.com
ISBN: 978-1-946672-77-3
Cursed Page 25