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He paused, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ve spent centuries hunting those who think they can take whatever they want, who believe they’re better than others just because of what they are. I’ve spent my life fighting for those who can’t fight for themselves.”
Mercy raised an eyebrow, a small, bitter smile forming on her own lips. “That sounds a little ironic, coming from a vampire.”
Hunter chuckled softly. “Yes, I am aware of that. But it’s the truth. Drink.”
She allowed him to hold the goblet for her as she drained the glass. The room began to fill with a more comfortable silence, the tension between them easing for the first time since she had woken. Mercy felt her shoulders relax slightly, the weight of herfear lifting just enough for her to take a breath. She still didn’t want this—still hated what had been done to her—but for the first time, she felt like maybe, just maybe, she could survive it.
She looked up at Hunter, her gaze locking with his, and in that moment, something shifted between them. The anger, the resentment, the fear—it all faded into the background, replaced by something deeper. Something far more primal.
Her pulse quickened, but not from fear. Hunter stepped closer, his eyes darkening with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the pull between them growing stronger with every passing second.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.
Mercy’s breath hitched, her heart racing as he closed the distance between them. She knew she should push him away, that she should still be angry with him, but all she felt was the overwhelming need to be closer to him. To feel his touch. To give in to the tension that had been building between them for so long.
Without thinking, she reached up, tangling her fingers in his hair as she pulled him down to her. Their lips met in a fierce, desperate kiss, and the world around them seemed to disappear.
All that mattered was the fire between them, the raw, undeniable connection that had been simmering beneath the surface from the moment they had met.
Hunter growled low in his throat, his hands gripping her waist as he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. Mercy melted into him, her body humming with a new kind of hunger—one that had nothing to do with blood.
In that moment, everything else fell away.
There was only him.
CHAPTER 18
HUNTER
Hunter leaned in closer, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, his lips nearly brushing hers. He licked her lips with his tongue, tasting the heady mix of blood, wine, and her.
“This is not what you need,” he murmured.
“You couldn’t be more wrong,” she whispered, winding her arms around his neck to pull him closer.
The air crackled with the chemistry and tension between them. They stared at each other, their chests rising and falling with the breaths they didn’t need to take. In one swift motion, he pulled her against him, crushing his mouth to hers.
It was a clash of teeth and tongues, all heat and fury. Mercy made a small, strangled sound in the back of her throat, but instead of pushing him away, her hands fisted the front of his shirt, yanking him closer.
The kiss was savage, primal—a battle for dominance that neither of them was willing to lose. He nipped her lower lip, eliciting a gasp, then soothed it with his tongue. Mercy arched against him, her body molding to the hard planes of his.
“You belong to and with me, Mercy, and I belong to and with you. When most men tell you they’ve been waiting most of their lives for you, they’re talking decades… I’m talking millennia.”
As he’d hoped it would, his remark made Mercy laugh softly before biting his lip.
“I plan to make up for all the time I lost,” he vowed.
Bringing their mouths together, Hunter indulged himself in a long, sensual kiss that left them both wanting. His cock was dying, but it would just have to wait. He meant to take his time and savor every moment. He was going to show her how patient and indulgent he could be and lavish her with love, affection, and all the things she’d ever wanted in life.
He thrust his tongue past her lips, letting it tangle and dance with hers. So many times, making love and kissing, specifically, could be awkward, but this was anything but. It was as if he’d done it a thousand times before.
“Don’t make any promises you can’t keep. I’m not sure that I’m still not angry with you, but at least you make me feel something. When I woke up, I felt dead inside, and this makes me feel alive.”
He wanted to curse or growl in frustration, but in the back of his mind, the civilized man urged patience. She could only handle so much, and if that meant he had to settle for just the physical for a while, he would… but not for long.
Hunter pulled off his clothes, and once freed, his cock wanted to push against her entrance. As he made a place for himself between her thighs, he knew that all it would take was a simple thrust, and he could be inside her, pleasuring them both, but he needed her to want him almost as much as he wanted her.
Kissing her again, he lowered his head to her neck, inhaling her scent and kissing the puncture wound he’d left there. It was all but healed, but she shuddered in response. He’d never felt this way about anything or anyone. She was home and nothinghad felt like that for longer than he could remember. He ached for her in a way he’d never thought possible.
