Page 99 of Hunted

Ah. I’m guessing that means Valentin is mind-talking with his guard, remote-managing while probably directing the precise angle of a fruit platter and being obscenely composed about it.

I clamp my lips shut and count two beats, waiting for the aftertaste in Aaron’s face.

When the tension eases from his shoulders, I tilt my head. ‘Boss up your ass already?’

Aaron’s mouth goes flat. ‘Careful. That unruly tongue will get ripped out one of these days.’

I widen my eyes. ‘Wow. And people say romance is dead.’

‘This is not romance.’

‘Funny, your boss said the same thing.’

That lands. Aaron’s gaze cuts to me sharply. I smile, all teeth and innocence I absolutely do not possess.

He says nothing for the next stretch, which means I’ve either won the exchange or added my name to a private list titled ‘People to Dispose of Later’.

Hard to say with vampires.

By the time we reach the top levels, Selphine’s potion is humming faintly under my skin, the top-up I took before leaving giving a subtle bolster to the edges of my mind. Not safe, by any stretch, but steadier.

More myself.

Which is good, because the moment we step into Valentin’s penthouse and I see him, every scrap of composure I stitched together this morning threatens to slide clean off.

He stands near the windows in a dark shirt and tailored trousers, sleeves unrolled today, all long lines and impossible poise, one hand resting on the back of a chair like he was carved there specifically to ruin women’s judgement before breakfast.

Morning light catches his hair and skims his cheekbone, and I’m abruptly, furiously aware that I know exactly what he tastes like. Is that why this feels different today? Worse? Better? More dangerous?

That is the problem now. Attraction is no longer abstract irritation. It has a reference point.

Fresh Netheris hellfire.

And underneath that, twisting through it, the other truth: he belongs to someone else. Not in the human sense, not in a dating-app exclusivity sense, but in a bloodline, destiny, ancient-curse way that should make him untouchable to me for reasons far more serious than pride.

So why is the air between us already crackling like something lit a fuse?

Valentin’s gaze lands on me and holds. No greeting or smile. Just silvered focus moving over my face, my throat, my mouth, the same way he looked at me last night after the kiss, like he’s cataloguing evidence and trying not to act on it.

The sexual tension in the room fattens into a third presence, heavy and ripe and frankly rude.

I drag my attention away first because I enjoy breathing.

Just in time to see Aaron wink out of existence.

I jerk so hard I nearly reach for a blade. One second he’s beside me, all dry menace and sarcastic dietary metaphors, and the next there’s only empty air.

‘What the—’ I snap, spinning. ‘He can teleport? Then why the long trek up here?’

Valentin’s expression does not change. ‘Because to teleport he would have needed to touch you.’

A half-tick goes by before the penny drops. ‘And you don’t want him touching me?’ The words leave my mouth before I can sand down the edges. And the instant they do, something hot and treacherous flares in my chest.

I shouldn’t feel anything about that except annoyance.

I absolutely do not.

But his fury reaches me from across the room before he speaks, invisible and unmistakable, raising the hairs on my arms.