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Hunter’s gaze softened slightly, though the intensity never left his eyes. "You’re a coward, Mercy," he said softly, the words cutting through her like a blade.
Mercy’s breath caught in her throat, shock and fury flooding her senses. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Hunter said, his voice steady and unyielding. "You’re running. From me, from us…”
“There is no us, you arrogant bastard.”
“Well then, from whatever this is,” he chuckled softly. “You think you can handle this on your own, but the truth is, you can’t. You’re not equipped to do this by yourself, and even if you were, you’re terrified. You’re afraid of losing control."
Mercy’s chest tightened, the weight of his words pressing down on her, suffocating her. She wanted to scream at him,to deny everything he was saying, but the truth—the awful, undeniable truth—was that he was right.
She hated him for it. Without thinking, she brought her knee up into his groin. Hunter grimaced but didn’t back away.
“You’ll find that vampires can endure far more pain than mere mortals.”
"I don’t need you," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she stared up at him, her eyes brimming with defiance.
Hunter’s smile was small, almost sad, as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "Maybe not. But you want me."
With that, he pulled back, releasing her from the wall, his expression unreadable as he stepped away. Mercy stood frozen for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest, her mind spinning with a thousand thoughts and emotions she couldn’t untangle.
Hunter turned, giving her one last glance before heading for the door. "We’ll figure this out, Mercy," he said quietly. "Whether you want to admit it or not, we’re in this together."
CHAPTER 7
MERCY
Mercy stood frozen in the dimly lit room, her back pressed against the cold stone wall where Hunter had just pinned her. Her heart was racing, not from fear, but from anger.Coward.The word echoed in her mind, ringing louder with each beat of her pulse. How dare he? Just because she hated vampires didn’t mean she was running from something.
Mercy clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms as she glared at the empty doorway Hunter had just walked through. He was arrogant, infuriating—and wrong. She wasn’t a coward. She didn’t need anyone, least of all some undead vampire, thinking he knew her better than she knew herself.
But the problem was, despite her anger, his words had struck a nerve.
Her breath still felt uneven, her body still tingling where his hands had touched her. His skin hadn’t been cold like she’d always imagined it would be—cold, dead, like the rest of his kind. No, Hunter’s flesh had been surprisingly warm. His touch had ignited something inside her that she couldn’t quite shake, and that made her even angrier. Vampires were supposed to berepulsive, their existence a mockery of life, and yet… Hunter felt alive. Far too alive.
Her thoughts drifted back to the feel of his body pressed against hers, his lips close to her ear as he whispered those infuriating truths. She’d felt the heat of his body, the solid strength of him, and it had made her curious. Too curious.
Mercy shook her head, trying to dispel the feeling, but it lingered. She didn’t want to think about Hunter like that. She wanted to hate him, despise him for what he was. But the truth gnawed at her. She didn’t feel disgusted when he touched her. She didn’t feel revulsion when she looked into his eyes. She felt… curious.
Cursing herself, Mercy pushed off the wall and stalked across the room. She had to know. Her feet moved before her brain could stop her, and before she knew it, she was standing in front of him again. Hunter had barely taken a few steps down the hall when she caught up with him. He turned, his dark, amused eyes locking onto hers as if he’d known she would come after him.
Without a word, Mercy reached out and placed her hand on his chest, her fingers tracing the line of his collarbone. She wasn’t sure what she expected to feel—coldness, maybe, or the hardness of a dead thing—but instead, his skin was warm, almost human.
Hunter didn’t move, didn’t speak, but there was something in his gaze, a flicker of curiosity or perhaps amusement. Mercy ignored it, her hand traveling lower until her palm rested just over where his beating heart should be. She waited, closing her eyes, focusing on the sensation of his body beneath her hand.
Nothing. No heartbeat.
Her brow furrowed as she opened her eyes, glancing up at him. "How does this work?" she asked, her voice soft, barely above a whisper. "How are you… this?" She gestured vaguely tohis body, his warmth, the fact that despite having no heartbeat, he felt alive.
Hunter’s lips twitched into a small smile, and he looked down at her, his amusement clear. "Curious, aren’t you?"
Mercy frowned but didn’t pull her hand away. "I’m trying to understand. You feel… warm. Alive. But you’re not."
"Technically," Hunter replied, his voice taking on that smooth, infuriatingly calm tone he always seemed to use around her, "I’m not alive in the human sense. But my body still functions in certain ways. Blood flows through my veins, but my heart doesn’t beat like yours. It’s more… magic, I suppose you could say. I don’t need to breathe, but I can. I don’t need to eat, but I still can."
Mercy’s eyes narrowed. "So, you’re basically a walking corpse with benefits."
Hunter laughed softly, shaking his head. "If that’s how you want to see it. But I think you’re underestimating just how useful those ‘benefits’ can be."
