Fanged Desire (Leyore Coven #3)

Chapter 18

Addison

I woke up to a pounding headache, the kind of skull-splitting throb that I hadn’t been accustomed to since my early twenties.

When the rushing in my ears built to a roar I groaned, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes, willing the pain to subside. The faint smell of coffee wafted through the apartment, the only saving grace coaxing me out of bed despite the dull pounding in my head.

But it wasn’t just the headache weighing me down – it was the guilt.

I should have been doing more, pushing harder, digging deeper to find Penelope. Instead, I’d spent the night with Hunter, letting myself get wrapped up in the strange comfort she provided. My memories of last night were blurred and faded, snippets of conversation and a whole bottle of wine. But I remembered enough. How I’d plied her with questions and begged her to stay.

Thank God she’d insisted on vacating to the living room sofa or who knows what I would have asked of her that night.

I couldn’t deny how safe I felt with her, how being in her presence, even while she lingered across the room, made the crushing weight of my worries feel a little lighter. But that safety was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

Dragging myself out of bed, I padded into the kitchen to find Ethan standing at the stove, flipping pancakes with a casualness that didn’t at all match the storm cloud hanging over my head.

He glanced over his shoulder at my arrival, cracking a sly smile. “Morning, sunshine.”

I grumbled something unintelligible and slumped into a chair at the breakfast table. Ethan turned back to his cooking, flipping the last pancake onto a plate before grabbing a steaming mug and setting it in front of me.

“Coffee,” he announced proudly, sliding the mug across the table. “You look like you need it.”

I wrapped my hands around the warm ceramic, letting the heat seep into my fingers. “Thanks.”

Ethan leaned against the table, crossing his arms. “Hunter left earlier. Said she had to get to work.”

I nodded absently, taking a cautious sip of the dark liquid. It was strong and bitter, and exactly what I needed, scalding my throat as it went down.

Ethan watched me for a moment, his expression shifting from casual to serious when I finally met his gaze. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing with her?”

I blinked at him, clutching the mug tighter than intended. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what the hell is happening between you and Hunter?” he demanded, tone dropping as he bit into a steaming pancake and shot me a pointed stare.

I frowned, a twinge of defensiveness rising in my chest. “Hunter’s been helping me.”

“Yeah, and that’s great.” Ethan pushed off the counter, shoveling the rest of the pancake into his mouth. “But don’t forget, you know next to nothing about her. There’s something about her, Addison. Something... off.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but the words caught in my throat. Because deep down, I knew he wasn’t entirely off the mark.

At my exasperated expression Ethan sighed, grabbing a plate of pancakes and setting it in front of me. “Anyway, I guess we have bigger things to worry about right now.”

Something bitter lodged in my throat and I stared vacantly down at the table, my appetite non-existent despite the stack of golden pancakes before me. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

“So what do we do?” When it was clear I wouldn’t be touching my pancakes, Ethan reached over and smashed another steaming stack into his mouth, words muffled by a mouthful of batter. “All roads point to Catherine Raine. There’s no need to keep working at the club.”

“We still need a way in.” I sighed, leaning on my elbows and massaging circles into my throbbing temple. “If we can’t break into Cathy’s place maybe I can convince her to invite me?”

At Ethan’s dubious expression I turned away, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. “Look, I need to think this over. For the time being I’m still Kinsley – Micere’s best exotic dancer. Until we get my sister back I’m not burning any bridges.”

Rather than argue Ethan gave me a chipmunk frown, mouth full of pancake, then turned back to the stove, busying himself with the many dishes he’d dirtied during his breakfast endeavor.

I stared down at the coffee, my mind a maelstrom of disjointed half-thoughts. Hunter. Penelope. Missing people and missing pieces.

Not to mention the tattered, fragile state of my heart.

After an agonizingly long shift at Micere and a few Adderalls later, I found Hunter waiting for me outside the club, leaning casually against her car with that ever-present, inscrutable expression on her face. The night air was cool, and I was grateful for the quiet moment as I slid into the passenger seat without question. I knew why she was there – we had a lead to follow.

“You didn’t have to wait.” I avoided meeting her eyes, buckling my seatbelt and staring out the window instead.

Hunter shot me a sideways glance as she started the car. “You know I did.”

“Well, thank you.”

A light shower of rain began to fall, and I lifted a finger to trace droplets down the window pane. “So, where are we headed exactly? And how are we going to get my sister back?”

Hunter drove a hand through her hair, eyes on the road ahead. “I’ve got someone keeping an eye on Cathy’s place. The goal is to learn the guards’ movements and potentially find an opening. Once we have that, we go in.”

I swiveled to look at her, suspicion awakened. “And who is this someone you’ve roped into my mess?”

Her lips curved into a wry smile and she chuckled. “An old friend, you could say. He owes me a favor.”

That only heightened my suspicions, but it was clear she wasn’t open to divulging this mystery friend’s identity any time soon. “Then what are we doing in the meantime?”

Hunter shrugged, maddeningly casual considering the situation. “Right now? We’re driving.”

By then, I was too tired and ashamed to argue.

We drove in silence for a while, questions, complications, and thoughts on my drunken antics left unspoken. I resorted to chewing my nails, something I hadn’t done since my college days. Waiting for the right moment to strike at Cathy’s place felt like torture, every second spent in limbo adding to the weight in my chest.

“I hate this,” I muttered, breaking the silence.

“Hate what?” Hunter’s eyes flicked toward me briefly before focusing back on the road.

“Just sitting around, waiting. It feels like every moment we wait, Penelope is slipping further away.”

“We’re not sitting around. We’re biding our time.” Hunter nudged me with her elbow, urging me to look her way. When I reluctantly dragged my eyes toward her, she shot me a grin. “And in the meantime, we can do something productive.”

I raised a brow, immediately suspicious. Knowing her, that could mean anything from swimming with sharks to robbing a bank. “Like what?”

“Let’s look into the other people from the files, see if any of them got away.” She shrugged, flicking the headlights on. “We can also do some research on this mysterious A-gene.”

I thought it over, chewing my lip. It was a distraction, that much was obvious. She was offering me something to keep my mind busy – but it might have some merit. “All right, fine. Let’s do it.”

Hunter drove us to High Stakes headquarters, the sleek building looming over us, looking taller than it had the last time we pulled up to that familiar curb. She parked, and we slipped inside, tall doors cutting off the quiet hum of late-night activity in the streets. When we reached her office Hunter powered up her computer and we dove into the files, pulling up information on every name we had.

As we worked, the tension from earlier began to ease, replaced with the focused rhythm of research that always kept my heart steady.

I perched on the edge of her desk, sifting through papers and reading out names while Hunter scoured the internet for clues on their whereabouts. As far as we could tell, none of the people in the files had been found, and less than half had been filed as missing to begin with.

It was grim work, and it would have been disheartening if it weren’t for the woman at my side, funneling coffee down her throat and keeping my spirits up with her running commentary.

After a while Hunter leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head.

“So,” she began, and I knew exactly what was coming. I’d been waiting for it all night. “You said some interesting things when you were tipsy.” Her tone was painfully casual considering the topic.

I felt a blush creep up my neck and hid it behind a stack of papers. “Did I?”

“Oh, yeah.” Her lips quirked in a half-smile. “But don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”

I rolled my eyes, crossing and uncrossing my legs, trying to mask my embarrassment. “Well, now that I’m sober, why don’t you tell me a little more about Selene.”

Hunter’s smile faded slightly. “I don’t think you’ll like me much if I told you more.”

“Come on.” I leaned back on my elbows, happy to direct the conversation away from my embarrassing escapades the night before. “I promise I’ll still like you just fine.”

Hunter sighed and glanced away, her fingers drumming lightly on the desk. “Selene... was a mistake.”

I tilted my head, curious but cautious, rehashing my question from the night before. “What happened?”

“I did something unforgivable.” She shrugged, bouncing a leg as she reclined in her swivel chair. “Hurt her in a way that couldn’t be undone.”

I wasn’t sure what kind of confession I was expecting but it certainly wasn’t that. It did, however, put all of her false bravado into perspective a little. As another piece of the puzzle slotted into place I looked at Hunter in a new light, cocking my head to the side.

“You feel guilty.”

She glanced at me from the corner of her eye, and I could almost see the defenses going up behind her pupils.

“There’s no fixing it, and I don’t need sympathy. I know it’s all on me.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

When Hunter turned away again, swiveling in her chair to avoid my gaze, I slipped off the desk, moving to stand beside her. Her visceral reaction to seeing the woman in the street finally made sense. As did her blatant, flirtatious swagger – it was hollow, defensive. It was her way of keeping people happy while still keeping them at arm's length.

This was a woman afraid of relationships. Determined to avoid hurting, and being hurt, ever again.

“Whatever you did, it sounds like you’ve been carrying it for a long time.” I moved to stand in front of her, waiting for her to meet my eyes. “But has it ever occurred to you that maybe you’re using it as an excuse to keep people distant?”

Hunter’s gaze snapped to mine, scornful eyes narrowing. “ God , am I that easy to read?”

I gave her a small smile, folding my arms as I leaned back against the desk. “You put on a good show. But there’s another side to you. Another Hunter. The one who carried me to bed. The one who puts up with my bullshit daily. I think that Hunter is a lot softer than she lets on.”

Hunter groaned, throwing her head back and slinging an arm over her eyes. “Great. So I’m a walking cliché.”

“No.” I laughed, smile growing despite myself. “You’re human... well, metaphorically speaking.”

Hunter peeked at me from under her arm, charismatic as ever – but… genuine. “You’ve got me figured out, huh?”

“Not entirely,” I admitted, tilting my head, fingers waggling. “But I’m getting there.”

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips as her arms dropped to her sides. “You’re relentless.”

“I’m curious,” I corrected, leaning forward until we were practically nose-to-nose. “So indulge me, why do you always hang out at the office instead of going home?”

Hunter’s expression shifted, replaced by a contemplative look as she mulled over her answer. “The office... feels more like home. It’s where I’m needed. Where I don’t have to think about the other stuff.”

“The other stuff being your tragic failed relationship?”

She chuckled, then shrugged. “Just... stuff. Memories, mistakes. The usual.”

“Well,” I reached for my discarded coffee cup, bringing it to my lips as I looked her over, “I guess we both have our issues.”

Hunter snorted, lifting an empty mug to clink against mine. “To being a mess, then.”

I followed her toast, hiding a smile behind my hand. “To being a mess.”