A Hunter Born (Hired Hunters Series Book 1)

by Kimberly Forrest

  “Who’s this?” the shifter asked, the growl still present in his voice.

  “This is Morgan Rhys. She’s a Hunter, here to investigate Olivier Rodolfo.”

  A rather vicious snarl met that pronouncement as glowing amber eyes looked her up and down. “It’s about time you people did something to police your own.”

  Her first instinct was to defend her kind despite the fact that she knew they were flawed, especially when seen through the lens of other races’ standards. To a shifter, who valued loyalty, family, and pack above all else, the Born, whose driving force was the obtainment of power and wealth at any cost, must seem like monsters. On the flip side, the majority of the Born saw shifters as weak, sentimental creatures, easily manipulated and insignificant in the hierarchy of the supernatural world.

  Neither side was likely to be convinced otherwise, so Morgan held her tongue and merely offered a tight smile as Travis finished the introduction with, “Morgan, meet Archer Langley, alpha of the New Orleans wolfpack.

  Another wolf darted out from the concealing brush to rub its sleek body up against the alpha’s leg, and the man uncrossed his arms to run a large hand down the length of his packmate’s silvery coat. “You’re taking her to your place?”

  Travis had a place here? Biting her tongue rather than blurting out a question that would be answered without her prompting in a matter of seconds, she saw Travis nod sharply which elicited another rumbly grunting sound from Archer Langley before he said, “I’ll let the others know.”

  Falling into step as Travis began to lead her away, she heard the alpha inhale deeply before he asked, “Are others with you?”

  Travis didn’t even bother to look back. “Those vamps are up for grabs. Happy hunting, my friend.”

  A deep belly laugh, rife with anticipation followed by a piercing howl faded behind them as Morgan and Travis trekked deeper into the swamps.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As they approached his house, a rather weathered wooden structure built on stilts and concealed by an abundance of Spanish moss, Travis held his breath. He knew it wasn’t much to look at on the outside, but on this inside, he’d created a sanctuary. A place where he could truly be himself, and he hoped, as irrational as it seemed, that Morgan approved.

  She hugged his arm as they climbed the rickety wooden steps and teased, “So you have a little love nest in the swamp? Is this where you take all your lovers?”

  A question that had started playfully, he couldn’t help but notice, had grown a distinct edge by the time she finished. Inordinately pleased by the sharp bite of jealousy she hadn’t quite been able to disguise, Travis was happy to inform her, “I’ve never brought anyone here. In fact, you’ll be the only person besides me who has ever crossed the threshold.”

  Her responding, “Good,” was quiet, said more for herself than his benefit, but the smile that spread over his face couldn’t be contained as he slotted the key in the lock and pushed open the door.

  “Oh, wow…” she gasped as she stepped inside and took in the large, open floorplan. From the outside, the structure gave the appearance of having two floors when in actuality, there was only the one, the walls soaring twenty-feet upward to a pitched roof with an abundance of skylights that framed the large half-moon hanging low in the sky as well as a wealth of stars.

  “This is amazing,” she continued, and Travis felt a surge of pride. The floors were slate, the fireplace he moved toward to begin building a fire was made of natural stone, the furniture situated about the room was upholstered in pale gray, each piece chosen for comfort and optimal relaxation.

  “Why keep the place in the city when you have this?” she asked, her fingers gliding across the dark gray granite countertops in the kitchen section.

  “Even when I’m not officially on duty, I’m still working,” Travis replied as he lit the tinder. “It’s easier to keep my eyes and ears on Rodolfo that way, but here…” he trailed off.

  Morgan easily picked up the thread. “Here you can be yourself. You can spread your wings.” She chuckled. “Literally in your case.”

  She was not wrong, but before he could say more, she surprised him by adding, “Speaking of which. I have a proposition for you.”

  Turning away from the fire, he straightened to his full height. “Oh?”

  His Hunter actually looked nervous, which only ratcheted up his curiosity. What sort of proposition was she about to offer that caused a vampire of her strength, courage, and confidence to suddenly be looking unsure of herself?

  Thrusting out a hand as if to ward off a premature denial or rejection, she began speaking, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I know that you’re focused on finding out what happened to your sister and bringing the guilty party to justice. I totally get that and am completely dedicated to helping you however I can. But have you given any thought to what you might do once that’s finished?”

  Travis frowned. He hadn’t. Not even once had he allowed himself to imagine or wonder what he might do with himself once Sophia was at rest. Would he stay in New Orleans? Go back to Washington? Pack his bags and move someplace that held no memories whatsoever in an attempt to leave the past behind him?

  “I haven’t thought about it,” he admitted.

  “You’d make an excellent Hunter,” she surprised him by saying. “You’d be a real asset to the team. We all think so.”

  Travis found himself practically rooted to the floor as he considered the possibility. The thought was appealing. More than appealing, actually. He may have only briefly met the other two members of Morgan’s Hunter team, but thanks to the stories she had told him, he already liked them. Not to mention he’d be chasing down vampires on a regular basis – that really sounded good. But best of all, he’d never have to say goodbye to this particular vampire. This Hunter who had, in the short time they’d known each other, made such an impression on him that the thought of never seeing her again caused a dull ache in his chest and made him want to roar in denial.

  In a few strides, he was close enough to grab her around the waist and pull her into his arms. “Does your Hunter Society have any rules against fraternizing with other team members?”

  Morgan’s smile was instant and sexy as hell as her fingers walked across the top of his shoulder. “It does not,” she purred before adding playfully, “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I don’t think I can keep my hands off you,” he admitted with a growl before sealing his lips to hers in a searing kiss. Her mouth immediately opened to him, allowing him entry as he swept his tongue across hers. As had happened before, he found her taste intoxicating, addicting. She tasted like his. Morgan Rhys was a treasure he wanted to hoard away and at the same time, display her to the world with pride.

  His hands swept possessively over the lithe musculature of her form and she moaned against his mouth, her own fingers digging satisfyingly into his back, her scent growing stronger with the lush bloom of arousal he wanted to taste. He could happily drown in this woman.

  With a gasp, Morgan broke the kiss, her mouth skating across his jaw to his throat. He felt the scrape of long, lethally sharp fangs against his neck and shuddered with longing. He wanted her to pierce the skin, wanted to feel the sting of her bite in a claiming kiss.

  “Do it,” he urged, gripping the back of her neck and pulling her closer. He needed to be inside of her in every way. In her heart. In her mind. His body filling hers with the hard length of his arousal, satisfying her carnal needs while his blood nourished her hunger.

  His growl echoed through the cavernous space of his sanctuary as Morgan’s fangs pierced his flesh.

  The first taste of his blood on her tongue was a revelation. Morgan had never experienced anything so divine. His blood was hot, like rich wine with a smoky undertone to which she could easily become addicted. It was also incredibly powerful. The likes of which she’d never before felt. She could feel her body humming with awareness, her sucking pulls on his throat becoming stronger with the
need for more, her grip on the back of his neck tight with the desire to never let him go.

  She was grinding against him without conscious thought, hadn’t even realized that he had picked her up at some point so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. The orgasm that followed, hit her like a bolt of lightning, shaking her to her core as her mouth finally released his throat on a shout of pleasure before she collapsed in a near-boneless heap against the strong breadth of his chest, grateful he was holding her aloft.

  She was panting, her body sated yet also oddly still humming as the power of his blood coursed through her system. Reaching for his shirt, she yanked at it, needing to feel his skin against hers while Travis walked them to the back of his house and the king-sized bed that waited there.

  Loathe to release him long enough so that they could shed their clothes, she pulled him down with her and they rolled across the bedding in each other’s arms, both of them working with a near desperate purpose to get the other naked.

  When the last hindrance was finally shed, Morgan toppled Travis, pushing his shoulders to the mattress as she straddled him, breathless with desire and nearly desperate with need, she sank down with a shuddering gasp on the thick length of his erection. But her angel wasn’t in the mood to play nice. With a strength and speed she was unprepared for, he reversed their positions, one arm hooking under her knee and lifting to gain maximum penetration. His eyes, as they stared into hers, were heavy-lidded with desire but it did nothing to conceal the irises that had gone bright yellow, striated with black. A primal growl rumbled up his throat that was so sexy she nearly came right then and there as his body began thrusting hard, quick strokes that rapidly brought her to a fever pitch.

  Mindless with pleasure, she was chanting his name, a benediction to his skill as her body tightened around him, moving ever closer to that precipice until, with a scream of satisfaction, she shattered in a burst of starlight, while outside, the wolves howled.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Once both their breathing had returned to normal and their minds had returned to some semblance of sanity, they had made love again, this time, slowly. And it was lovemaking, Morgan realized. Each of them exploring the other with the intent to learn how best to please. There was no rush, no sense of mindless desperation propelling them forward. They savored each other through taste and touch, and later, held each other close as they drifted off to sleep to the lullaby of the bayou.

  Morgan wasn’t sure what woke her. It was still dark, most likely the very early hours of the morning and while she hated to leave the warmth of Travis’s arms, she carefully extricated herself, intending to check her phone in case she’d missed a message from her team. Her mind was still slightly hazy from sleep, not to mention that logy feeling that typically followed a feeding – and man, what a feeding that had been. Angel's blood was potent.

  Glancing over her shoulder at Travis who was still sound asleep, Morgan smiled fondly. She loved him. The realization came as a surprise and she took a moment to analyze her feelings just to be sure she wasn’t mistaking infatuation for something deeper. After all, she hadn’t exactly been exposed to the emotion growing up. They also hadn’t known each other very long and her first instinct upon meeting him had been to kill the threat he posed, but now, the thought of him being injured or killed brought forth a protectiveness that had previously been exclusive to her team. She also could no longer imagine her life without him in it and she hoped he would take her up on her offer of joining the Hunters.

  Never had she allowed herself to imagine she’d ever find someone to love. It wasn’t like she’d grown up in an environment that encouraged that sort of thing. The majority of the Born, in fact, held nothing but disdain for the emotion they considered a weakness, easily exploitable, a tool to be used as leverage against lesser species. Little did those of her kind know, there was nothing soft or weak about what she felt. Did it create a vulnerability that could be used against her? Yes. But her love for Travis, as well as the familial love she felt for her team also gave her another source of strength to draw from. They provided something to fight for. And she would fight to her last breath for each of them. How many of her kind could claim that?

  Shaking her head in awe at the discovery, she reached blindly for her phone and unlocked it. Only to find nothing. No snarky text from Kane. No missed call notification or pending voicemail from Jamie. A creeping sense of fear slithered up her spine and she quickly shook Travis awake. “Something’s wrong.”

  Travis sat bolt upright, immediately wide awake and alert. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  Morgan hastily pulled her clothes on, pausing only long enough to throw Travis his jeans before she slammed her feet into her boots. “I haven’t heard from my team. I know something’s wrong. I have to get back to them.”

  To her eternal gratitude, Travis didn’t dawdle, nor did he attempt to assuage her fears with a bunch of ‘what if’ scenarios. She knew her team best, and he didn’t question her authority on the subject. He dressed, armed himself, and grabbed his keys. “Let’s go.”

  Alert for a possible attack, they made their way quickly and quietly back to Travis’s truck but there was no sign of any of the vampires that had followed them into the bayou earlier that evening, the wolves having quite effectively taken care of that little problem.

  “I won’t be able to get past Rodolfo’s gates,” Travis said once they were on the road. “But I might be able to find a back-way in, slip by unnoticed.”

  Morgan shook her head. “Don’t. You can’t risk it when we don’t know what’s waiting for us.”

  His jaw tightened to the point where a muscle jerked in his cheek. “I can’t let you go in there alone. Rodolfo is a savage – the things he’s known for…”

  Had anyone else told her she couldn’t do something, Morgan would have bitten their head off before making a reckless show of doing it anyway just to prove them wrong. Travis’s concern for her wellbeing, however, actually made her heart thump harder as a warm feeling spread through her chest. He cared about her, even if he hadn’t yet said the words.

  Stilling his hand that was tapping impatiently on his thigh with her own, she pointed out, “If something goes sideways, you’re my ace in the hole. Rodolfo won’t be expecting you and we need to keep it that way.”

  She could practically see the internal battle he was waging, but in the end, he knew she was right. With a sharp nod, he agreed. “I’ll stay close by in case you need me.”

  ∞∞∞

  Destin Jourdain’s heart was heavy as he walked home from visiting yet another grieving family. This one, for a young man and a talented witch who had just celebrated his twentieth birthday. He’d sat for hours with the grief-stricken parents and their one remaining child as they released their pain with wailing cries, held each other, and then finally, shared tearful memories of a boy who had been a shining light in the world, extinguished far too soon.

  The killings had to be stopped. A vampire glutting him or herself on the power-laced blood of a witch, while abhorrent to him would at least be understandable. This was murder, targeted, unprovoked and regardless if he ever learned the why, he needed to put a stop to it, even if that meant owing favors to one of the Born – a position in which he never thought he would find himself.

  Morgan Rhys had not been what he’d expected, a fact that might prove a blessing. The Born tended to classify themselves as the superior race, above human law as well as above all others that existed within the supernatural world, yet she hadn’t once looked down her nose at him and not just because of his superior height. There had been no provoking remarks, no disdain in her gaze, no thinly veiled bigotry. She’d met him as an equal, displaying little hesitation in investigating her own kind. He’d witnessed firsthand the truth behind the rumors that surrounded the first of the female Hunters. Morgan Rhys was truly a breed apart. But if she didn’t find something soon, Jourdain would be forced to take matters into his own hands and damn th
e consequences.

  Letting himself into his home, Destin had barely seated himself behind his desk when a crackle of power in the air had him glancing up. A piece of paper appeared, fluttering to land on one of the leather-bound tomes upon his desk.

  He glanced over the swirling script written in heavy black ink, frowning at the sequence of words that sent a chill through his heart. Before he could read it again, the missive burst into flames, scorching the expensive hand-tooled cover that concealed a near ancient grimoire.

  With a curse that would have had his mother boxing his ears were she awake to hear, he slapped at the book while simultaneously pulling out his phone. Alastair, the head of the coven in Massachusetts. Always such a showoff.

  “Explain,” Destin barked as soon as the call connected, in no mood for the usual exchange of pleasantries.

  “We’ve lost seven witches in as many days. All of them low-level, talented mostly in sleight of hand and parlor tricks, but still.”

  His heart feeling as if it had turned to stone, Destin closed his eyes. The talents and gifts of any witch made no difference, nor their position within the hierarchy. These were his brothers and sisters, his family, and someone or someones were butchering them. “Vampires?”

  “They weren’t fed upon.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Destin gritted out. “Were the killers vampires?”

  Alastair hesitated, perhaps considering his words before he said, “Two of the killings, yes. We’re not sure about the others. The first few looked like accidents, but in hindsight…” the man trailed off, letting Destin come to his own conclusion.

  He’d been wrong. This wasn’t some game to amuse a bored Olivier Rodolfo. Whatever was going on went much deeper, was much more insidious. He would need to check in with the other leaders across the country as well as the covens around the world, but his gut was telling him that the vampires had quietly declared war on the Order of Witches.