Page 47 of Hunted

The kind of mouth that could stain a man’s control and make him grateful for the excuse. The kind of mouth I would enjoy biting, healing, biting again, watching blood trail down her chin, over the pulse she hides with that collar, lower still to the luscious slope of her breasts to the crimson tips of her nipples.

Repeatedly.

I snatch my focus away as my cock stirs. ‘Speak, Miss Cross.’

She exhales, deciding how much truth to give.

‘Lyra Hannigan’s first sighting after she vanished was when she purchased a bus ticket with cash with a random name three months before your search at the Port Authority.’

My entire body stills.

Continue.

Whether she hears the silent command or not, she goes on, voice clipped with professional precision.

‘Destination was nowhere knowingly important or connected to her family that I know about. A stop in the middle of New Jersey that shouldn’t have mattered.’

A lead.

A real one.

My mark burns in approval.

‘How did you come by this? And how did you know it was her if the name was random?’

‘I know someone who knows someone who dug up deleted footage somewhere. She relied on the kindness of strangers to get what she wanted,’ she snaps, then gives me a look of pure, unimpressed exasperation. ‘And before you even think about asking, do you want the whole Revenant Agency lecture about sources and confidentiality, or do you want to pluck it out of my mind?’

The dare sharpens my attention. ‘Careful,’ I murmur. ‘I just might call your bluff.’

Her chin lifts. ‘And what? You’ll violate your precious neutrality clauses? You know that immediately violates agency contract, right? You do that and I walk out.’

Gods, she’s borderline reckless. Dangerous.

But right.

Were she freelance, I would have no compunction about delving into her mind and plucking out what I need. But Revenant does not tolerate mind-probes without consent. The consequence could be bribed or favoured away, but this information is not worth jeopardising the contract.

Besides, she is banking on me violating it.

She wants an excuse to walk away.

My irritation should be the only thing I feel. Instead, I feel the maddening urge to test her. To see what she hides behind those beautiful eyes.

Before I can stop myself, I step closer.

She does not retreat at first, but her body goes taut. When I press forward again, she takes a defiant step back, taunting me with evasion. With that pulse hidden behind her collar.

We move step by step until I pin her to the wall with the weight of my presence, one arm braced over her head, my thigh wedged forward just enough to trap space.

To remind her what proximity means when a vampire decides it.

Her breath catches.

Again, there is little fear in it.

But there is something else. A deeper pulse of interest. Anticipation she cannot hide.

I tilt my head down, voice low. ‘Permission.’