Page 8 of Hunter

“Ah, a lady after my own heart.” Hunter made quick work of uncorking the bottle, slipped two glasses in front of him and poured it. “The thing is. Hell.” He exhaled and shook his head. “Bad things. Very, very bad things happen there. And you know, even though we’re immortal, we certainly can die.”

The Alpha paused and reached for a remote, pointing it at an enormous stone fireplace. As he clicked a button, the fire roared to life. He set it down and picked up the wine glasses.

Willa struggled to keep her eyes on his face. The wild, shirtless Alpha seemed unaware of his effect on her. As he approached, her focus painted over his broad muscled chest that led down to his ripped abs. He extended the glass, and she quickly lifted her gaze to meet his. She nervously accepted the wine as he handed it to her, giving her a knowing smile.

“Thank you.” Jesus, I’m an idiot.

“Sorry, lost focus there a minute. Where was I? Immortal.” He cocked his head. “Maybe that makes Hell all the worse. We don’t die easily and when you get out, you don’t forget.”

“I’ll be okay,” she lied. Exhausted, the fear of closing her eyes wormed through her gut. The nightmares of Hell would linger in her dreams.

“Yeah, hmm, if you say so.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, her voice soft.

“How about now, let’s toast.”

“Toast? Really?” She managed a small smile.

“Hell yeah. We’re alive, aren’t we?” He raised his glass into the air. “Here’s to meeting beautiful strangers.”

Willa held his gaze as her glass touched his, barely aware of the soft clink. With her eyes still locked on his, she brought the rim to her lips. The warm cherry notes danced on her tongue and she swallowed, her insides warmed by the drink.

“Come sit.” Hunter nodded to the sofa.

Willa complied. Breaking eye contact, she surveyed the room as she walked. Something about his opulent home felt lived in, comfortable. She sat on the sofa and curled her legs under her. He smiled and fell back into an oversized chair and propped his feet on the ottoman.

“So, what’s your deal?” he asked outright.

“I don’t have a deal.” Secrets maybe. “I’m just a wolf.”

“And your mate?” he inquired.

“No mate.” The corners of her lips curled upward. Was he interested?

“And your pack?” Hunter took a sip of his wine.

“I don’t have a pack.”

“You’re a rogue she-wolf? I find that hard to believe.”

“I travel often. I don’t have time to belong to any one pack.” It was partially true.

“You can travel and still belong to a pack,” he challenged. “Where are you from? You have…a slight accent, yes?”

“I was born in Brazil. Most of my time in the States has been spent in New Orleans. About twenty years ago, I bought a home in the French Quarter. Logan knows of my presence.”

“Does he know you’re rogue? Because I’ll clue you in on a little secret, sweetheart. I have a place in New Orleans, and no one’s ever mentioned you.”

“I keep a low profile. I don’t run with the pack. Logan grants me permission to run.” Willa ran the pad of her finger in circles around the rim of her glass.

Hunter raised a suspicious eyebrow. “And where else do you live?”

“Mostly central America.”

“What are you doing down there?”

“I’m a doctor. I’m part of an international physician group that volunteers across the globe. Initially I was sent to Guatemala after a volcano erupted. I ended up staying a little longer. Did some research.”