Page 141 of Hunt Me

“You are weaker than your bravado pretends. I have grown weary of your games.”

Before Luka could respond, he was hammered into the dirt. They rolled across the forest floor in a violent blur of limbs and claws, ending with Matilda pinning him against the ground with her hand closed around his throat, where her fangs hovered.

She gripped his chin, jerking it to the side to reveal the expanse of milky skin. She trembled, lowering herself to him until her fangs pressed against his skin.

Luka didn’t move or resist. He didn’t fight what was to come. He had a debt to pay and would pay it in blood.

“Finish the hunt,” he instructed.

Matilda sank her fangs into his throat, and for a moment, the forest silenced. There was only the sound of Matilda furiously feeding.

Luka’s hand slowly rose and cradled the back of her head—holding her in place and letting her take everything she needed.

Eventually, she pulled away. Crimson blood fell from her parted lips onto Luka’s face in droplets. In her straddled position, she sat back on her heels, tilted her head back, and stared at the moon. Her chest heaved as Luka’s blood burned through her, filling the hollow ache in her stomach. Indescribable strength flooded her body, and for the first time since she’d risen, the hunger quieted to a dull ache.

She rolled her neck and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “More,” she demanded.

But before she could take her fill, Luka’s breathing shifted. She raised a brow when his breath hitched and his pupils dilated. “M-Matilda…” he breathed, voice ripping out of him rough and thick. “This… this cannot be possible,” he stammered, sinking his fingers into her hips.

“Venom,” she whispered. Her lips curled into a slow smile. She wrestled out of his grasp and rose to her feet. She grinned wickedly, placing her boot on his monstrous erection. “Oh, my King. How the tables have turned,” she purred.

“Fuck, Matilda!” he spat harshly, throwing his head back as she slid her foot back and forth over his dick. “Please! Have mercy!” he cried.

She raised a brow. “Have mercy? Where was my mercy when you killed me?” she questioned, twisting her foot and applying pressure. “Better yet? Where was my mercy when we found ourselves in a similar position? What did you say, my King?” He groaned, whipping his head back and forth. “You don’t remember? Well, let me remind you. Take your pleasure beneath my boot like the whore you are.”

Luka used the last of his free will and pushed himself upright. The erratic movement forced the venom through him like wildfire. His heartbeat quickened, and his breathing grew heavier. “You are provoking a dangerous game, huntress,” he warned through clenched teeth.

Matilda smirked and backed away into the shadows. “My favorite type of game.”

She turned and sprinted. Back in the clearing, Luka stood still while the venom multiplied heat, yearning, and a heat of a different kind.

“You should not have done that,” he murmured before giving chase.

***

Matilda ran through the forest like her life depended on it. Her body moved instinctively, slipping in and out of the shadows as Luka pursued her. She had a decent head start, but could feel him gaining ground; not through sound or sight, but through the venom that drew them together. Something dark and exhilarating unfurled in her chest, temporarily overwhelming the bitter rage that had planted itself and spread like gnarled roots.

A whistle screeched through the air. She ducked and stumbled when a log crashed into a tree, sending splintered wood into her face. Luka’s hand closed around her arm, and he slammed her into the rough bark of a tree. He was on her before she could move.

He caged her in, bracing one hand beside her head and the other pinning her wrist against the trunk. Matilda was shocked at his speed. She thought the venom would slow him down; if anything, it made him stronger, faster, unrestrained, and desperate.

His breathing came out ragged and uneven as his forehead rested against hers. “I have apprehended you,” he announced, voice low and roughened by something sultry and sinister.

Matilda tilted her head back against the tree and lifted her gaze to meet his. His pupils were wide, black, and all-consuming.

“So you have,” she replied, seizing a fistful of his shredded tunic with her free hand. She dragged him closer until there was no space left between them.

“The gods shall punish me for what I am about to do to you.”

“And I to you,” Matilda whispered, waiting for him to do his worst.

An unmistakable crack in his composure exposed itself. It was the unraveling of the last of his control.

“Careful,” he warned softly.

“And if I shall not heed your warning? Then what?” she murmured, lowering her voice. “Will you end my life again?”

Luka’s jaw tightened briefly before he chuckled, sliding his hand from her wrist to her throat. His palm settled there with dangerous certainty. His thumb nestled where her pulse spiked beneath her skin.