Page 57 of Hunted

All young.

All dark haired and pale skinned.

All of them – pluck out my eyes with Widow’s Fang – bearing an eerie resemblance to a version of me I once was.

My breath catches as my gaze cuts to the broad-shouldered invader of my dreams hosting this unlovely gathering.

Valentin prowls before them like a collector assessing rare acquisitions, immaculate in customary black, because apparently no other colour exists in his world. Hands clasped behind his back, he circles the first woman, lifts her chin, tilts her head left and studies her profile like she’s an artefact rather than a person.

I feel the Twelve before I see them. They line the perimeter, dark silhouettes with their attention fixed on me.

Especially the one standing slightly forward.

Sharp eyes. Coiled posture. The black vein beneath his wrist pulsing faintly.

Later, I’ll learn his name.

Now, I know only that he dislikes me without a word exchanged, and because I’m simply not in the fucking mood, I lift one eyebrow in open challenge.

His mouth flattens.

Score one to me.

My attention snaps back to Valentin as he stops in front of the third woman.

He knows I’m here but he’s ignoring me.

Then he reaches out and circles her throat with long, deadly fingers. Just like he did with me last night.

My stomach flips, shocking the hell out of me, because there’s no threat in the gesture. Just a casual, intimate possession as he leans in and inhales along her neck.

And what’s not casual?

The violent tightening in my chest.

Last night’s dream flashes through me.

His chest. That strange pulse. His hand linked with mine as we fell.

The thread snaps when he bares his teeth.

I catch the flash of vicious, curved fangs and step forward before I can stop myself. ‘Don’t⁠—’

My voice snuffs out as my body freezes.

Valentin’s command doesn’t echo aloud. It doesn’t need to. The psychic wave presses inward, settling into my nervous system like a weight placed deliberately on every joint.

I try to move.

Can’t.

This isn’t physical paralysis. It’s deeper than that. A suspension imposed by will rather than force, the very permission to act temporarily revoked.

I’ve heard about this ability. Every hunter has. The older the vampire, the broader the radius of control when they feed. They immobilise not just the victim but the environment around them, creating stillness for uninterrupted access to blood and memory alike.

Training made it sound clinical.

This feels like being pinned beneath an ocean that has decided I’m no longer entitled to surface.