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Even if that meant working with Hunter.
CHAPTER 11
MERCY
Mercy stirred from sleep; her mind thick with the remnants of a dream that clung to her like a fog. The dream had been the same as the night before, vivid and unsettling in its intensity. Images of Hunter—his touch, his voice, his heat—flooded her senses. Her skin still tingled from the phantom sensation of his hands on her body, the way he had looked at her with that dark, smoldering gaze.
The pounding in her head pulled her back to reality, and it took her a moment to realize it wasn’t just her mind playing tricks on her. Someone was knocking—no, pounding—on her door. The noise echoed through her small cottage, rattling her already scattered nerves.
With a groan, she sat up, rubbing her temples as she tried to shake off the last vestiges of the dream. Her muscles ached from the tension, and she stretched her arms over her head, feeling the satisfying crack of her spine as she worked out the kinks. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood, tugging her thin robe back into place as she padded toward the door.
As she pulled it open, the sight of Hunter leaning casually against the door frame greeted her. His dark eyes glittered with amusement, and his lips curled into a knowing grin, as if hecould read her thoughts—as if he knew exactly what she had been dreaming about.
“Good morning, Mercy,” he drawled, his voice low and rich like velvet sliding across her skin. “What took you so long? I’ve been knocking for ages.”
Mercy’s stomach tightened involuntarily at the sound of his voice, and she cursed herself for the heat that immediately flooded her veins as she clutched the top of her robe more closely together. Residual embarrassment from her dreams hit her hard, making her more irritable than usual.
Turning her robe loose, she crossed her arms, leaning against the door with a scowl. “Maybe I was busy, Hunter. Or maybe I just didn’t want to open the door for you.”
Hunter’s eyes darkened with amusement, and he pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer, his presence filling the doorway. “Enjoying a dream or perhaps fantasizing?” he teased, his tone laced with suggestiveness. “About me, I hope. I know your image fills my thoughts these days. I remember falling through the sky with you clutched in my talons.”
“You almost got us killed,” she snarled, but her breath caught in her throat.
“Hardly,” he snorted. “I was in control the entire time, but I suspect your dreams these days are far more visceral.”
He couldn’t possibly know—could he?
Mercy’s cheeks flushed despite her best efforts to keep her emotions in check, and she was instantly on the defensive. “In your dreams, Hunter,” she snapped, though the words came out weaker than she intended.
He grinned, that devilish smile making her want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. “Oh, I don’t think it’s just in my dreams, Mercy. I have a feeling you’ve been thinking about me, too.”
Her heart pounded in her chest, the tension between them thick enough to cut. She wanted to deny it, to tell him he was dead wrong, but the way he looked at her—like he could see right through her facade—made it hard to form words. Her mouth went dry, and the embarrassment of being caught in such a vulnerable position made her blood boil.
“Get over yourself,” she said, stepping back to let him in without thinking. But the moment she moved, she realized her mistake.
Hunter didn’t step forward. His dark eyes glittered with humor, and he folded his arms across his broad chest. “Nice try, but you know the rules. I can’t come in unless you invite me.”
Mercy froze, her anger and frustration boiling over. Of course. Vampires couldn’t enter unless they were invited. And here she was, practically begging him to come in just because she was flustered. Well, if he thought she was going to make this easy for him, he had another think coming.
A slow, wicked idea formed in her mind, and she straightened her posture, tilting her chin up as she locked eyes with him. “You’re right,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “You can’t come in.”
Hunter arched a brow, clearly intrigued by her sudden change in demeanor. “What are you up to, Mercy?”
Without answering, she stepped back into the living room, her hands moving to the sash at the waist of her robe. Untying it, she let the robe fall open before shrugging out of it and letting it drop carelessly to the floor, leaving her in nothing but bare skin. Hunter’s gaze sharpened, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the sight of her.
He shifted his weight but made no move to enter, his expression strained as his hands curled tightly into fists at his sides. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I know exactly what I’m doing… teasing you,” she replied. The cool air kissed her skin, but she was too focused on the growing tension between them to care. Hunter’s jaw tightened, and his eyes raked over her body, hunger burning in his gaze.
“You know,” she said, her voice sultry, “I thought vampires were supposed to have all the power. But it looks like I have the upper hand here.”
Hunter’s nostrils flared, and she could practically see the war going on inside him. He wanted her—he was practically vibrating with the need to touch her—but he couldn’t. Not without her invitation to enter her home. She remembered his comment about consent from her dreams, but if he couldn’t touch her, he couldn’t very well claim or bite her.
“You think this is funny, don’t you?” he growled, his voice rough with restrained need. “Taunting me like this?”
Mercy shrugged, her lips curving into a sly smile. “I suppose I shouldn’t, but I do. Because no matter how much you want me right now, you can’t have me. So, I hope you’re enjoying the show because that’s as much as you’ll ever get.”
Hunter’s eyes blazed with frustration and desire, his fists clenching and unclenching as he fought to control himself. He took a step forward, stopping just short of the threshold. “You’re playing with fire, Mercy.”
