Chapter 15
The Hunter
I lean against the marble column, scanning the room as my eyes fix on her again.
Ruby stands across the crowded charity hall. She is resplendent in the emerald green gown, every curve of her body designed to provoke. She’s a vision of defiance and seduction, unaware of the storm brewing inside me, or perhaps she’s aware—perhaps she craves it.
But as I watch her, my thoughts are a tempest, a maelstrom of desire and duty, of passion and purpose. The job I took from Michael, the lives I’ve taken as the Hunter, the secrets I’ve buried beneath a veneer of sophistication—they all converge in this moment, a storm that threatens to shatter the fragile balance I’ve maintained.
The longer I look at her, the more it feels like a personal reckoning. If I were a better man, I might even feel guilt for deceiving her. But I’m not a better man, and I don’t feel the slightest apprehension about taking the job—or executing it.
Sighing, I smile at the woman that approaches me. Her eyes are as hollow as her smile. “Good evening, Valentine,” she purrs, placing her hand on my arm as though she has a right to touch me.
“Mrs. Dawn,” I reply curtly. “What can I do for you?”
Yes , this is the mom of one of my students, the woman who debated Ruby to be exact. I only needed a few seconds in her presence to know where her daughter gets her haughtiness from.
She laughs, the sound gravelly like she survives on nicotine and alcohol alone. As I look over her shoulder, I notice Ruby watching us, and my lips twitch in amusement. Despite wanting to walk away, I take a step closer to Mrs. Dawn, not breaking eye contact with the raven haired beauty across the room.
“I just wanted to officially introduce myself,” she purrs. “My daughter has told me so much about you. She’s quite pleased with the course.”
Forcing my gaze away from Ruby, I look at the woman in front of me. “I’m happy to hear that,” I say, keeping my tone pleasant and warm. “She’s a bright young woman.”
Being nice and schmoozing is a necessary evil with people like the Dawn family. They make hefty donations to the university, which in turn gets people like their daughter access even though her GPA isn’t up to par. Then again, I used my own connections to get Ruby enrolled, so I guess I shouldn’t complain.
I glance across the room, watching Michael as he saunters toward a female server, leaning in too close, whispering something into her ear that makes her giggle and bat her eyelashes.
The two of them disappear into a back hallway, the meaning clear as day. My lips twitch in distaste. Michael doesn’t care about discretion, doesn’t care that Ruby is here in the same room, or maybe that’s the thrill for him.
His open disdain for his wife makes the job easier, but it adds another layer of resentment in me. It shouldn’t. His disrespect toward her is none of my concern. And yet, it festers.
“Excuse me,” I mutter to Mrs. Dawn, not bothering to wait for her reply before I start walking away from her.
A movement draws my gaze, and I see Jack now, striding toward me with a confident swagger that I recognize. Jack Knight is more than just a protective older brother. He’s sharp, dangerous even—there’s something familiar in him that I respect, despite everything.
He steps into my path, blocking my way as I begin to make my move toward Ruby. “Valentine,” he clips, angling his body so it’s blocking mine as his eyes flash with a warning.
“Jack,” I reply.
“I don’t care who you are, or what you do. If you hurt her, you’ll answer to me,” Jack growls, his voice low enough to keep our conversation private.
I stare at him, measuring the weight behind his words. Jack’s no stranger to threats; his mafia ties make that clear. But this isn’t about power or influence—it’s personal. His eyes carry the kind of brotherly protectiveness that cuts through any facade.
“I’d say you should be more concerned with her husband,” I reply calmly, my eyes flickering toward the hallway where Michael disappeared.
Jack’s jaw tightens. He’s no fool; he knows. But his eyes stay locked on mine. “Whatever game you’re playing with her, end it, or I will.” His eyes are cold, like mine, and I know he’s trying to gauge whether I’m a friend or a foe. “Just treat her right,” he barks, his voice low, but the warning is clear.
I smile, a cold stretch of my lips, not intimidated in the least. “You have my word, I’ll treat her exactly like she deserves,” I reply smoothly.
Jack doesn’t move for a long moment. His presence is an immovable wall, testing my patience, daring me to make a mistake. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he steps aside, allowing me to continue on my path.
I make my way toward Ruby, cutting through the crowd with purpose. When I reach her, she’s standing by herself in one of the alcoves by the large windows, the city lights twinkling behind her like a thousand eyes watching us.
She doesn’t see me approaching, so I take a moment to admire her. I watch the way her shoulders straighten when she catches sight of me. Her confidence is a mask, one that I am growing more adept at peeling away piece by piece.
“Enjoying yourself, Mrs. Simmons?” My voice is quiet, almost too low to be heard over the noise of the event, but I know she can hear me.
She turns slowly, her green eyes locking with mine. “As much as one can when their husband disappears into a hallway with someone else.”
There it is—her defiance. She could crumble, play the victim, but she doesn’t. It’s this strength that draws me in, her refusal to be broken, even in the face of the inevitable.
“Do you think you’re worth more than that?” I ask, stepping closer. My breath mingles with hers, faintly scented with something sweet, like ripe strawberries. Her perfume is subtle, a delicate blend of vanilla and jasmine that fills the space between us.
“Do you?” she shoots back, her voice trembling slightly, but her stance unwavering.
I smirk. “You’re bold for someone in your position, Ruby. Married. Bound. You think you can still command the attention of someone like me?”
Her pulse quickens, I can practically see it just beneath the skin of her throat. It’s magnetic, the pull between us. I’m used to controlling these situations, but this time it’s different. Ruby’s desire mirrors my own, and it blurs the lines of control.
“I think,” she says, stepping closer, “that you’re more intrigued by me than you want to admit.”
The laugh bubbling from me is laced with amusement and something darker. “Intrigued? Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I’ll act on it.” I lower my voice, leaning in so my lips nearly brush her ear.
“You already have,” she says, a sly smile grazing her lips.
I tilt my head slightly, studying her. She’s pushing me, testing my limits, and part of me wants to let her. Our bodies are nearly touching now, the heat between us tangible. There’s a faint salty scent on her skin, but with the lingering sweetness of her perfume. I want to feel the warmth of her beneath my fingers.
A dark chuckle leaves me. “You’re right. But that doesn’t mean I’ll do it again.” My voice is threaded with dominance, making it clear that despite everything simmering between us, I still control the rules. “I have rules for a reason.”
I have a rule against intimacy. Lust is clean—a fire that burns but leaves no scars; it’s controllable. It’s physical, a body’s way of demand ing release. But intimacy? That’s the real danger. It creeps in under your skin, makes you care, makes you trust. It creates a tie, a bond, and with bonds come cracks in the armor.
Lust I can live with. Intimacy is poison.
That’s why I visit The Black Orchid every other month or so; more frequently if I’m close to breaking. I never allow my physical need to threaten or interfere with my focus and control. But I’m not stupid enough to leave it unchecked.
With Ruby, though, it’s different. She calls to me in a way that isn’t just physical, isn’t just physiological… it’s all encompassing.
“Is that why you’re holding back?” she asks. Her eyes darken, something like anger flashing through them.
I slide my hand around her throat, fingers grazing the delicate line of her jaw. Her skin is warm, soft, and I feel the way she tenses under my touch, her body betraying the conflict raging inside her.
Then I tighten my grip slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to assert control. Her lips part, a small gasp escaping. We’re so close now, our breaths mingling, lips hovering just a breath away from one another. The air between us is electric, heavy with unspoken desire.
Her pulse beats against my fingers, rapid and frantic, but she doesn’t resist. Not physically, anyway. I notice the battle in her eyes, the part of her that wants to give in, and the part that refuses to relinquish control.
“Touch me,” she whispers, and despite the softness of her tone, it isn’t a plea; it’s a command.
“Why?” I challenge. With the way she’s acting it’s clear it’s what she wants and not because of whatever orders Michael has given her.
“Because I want you to.”
Without letting go of her throat, I turn us so we’re hidden from prying eyes. Then I move my hand under the fabric of her dress, cupping her pussy. “You’re already wet,” I rasp. “Is that all because of me?”
I easily slide two fingers into her heat. “Y-yes,” she moans.
I keep us like that for several minutes; suspended in the phase of nearly kissing and without moving my fingers. My own pulse is pulsating as fast as hers, and my cock is rock hard in my slacks. Both of our breathing is ragged.
Whe n Ruby lets out a small whimper, my determination wavers. I start pushing my fingers in and out, faster and faster.
“Do you like me fingering you like this? Where anyone could see us, all while your husband is fucking someone else?” I growl.
“Don’t mention him when you’re inside me,” she spits.
“Answer me.”
She moans again, gyrating her hips in perfect symphony to the way I’m fingering her. “Yes. I fucking love it.”
“Are you going to come for me this time?” I ask.
“I can’t come without—”
Growling, I cut her off. “Let me rephrase; you are going to come for me this time. Come all over my fingers, Ruby.” With each word, I squeeze her throat tighter while pumping my fingers faster, harder.
She lets out a small cry, one I’m tempted to swallow. But I don’t give in to the temptation of kissing her. Instead, I focus on her body, loving the way her sex tightens around my fingers, squeezing them as I scissor them to hit her g-spot.
“Oh, God. Valentine… yes.”
Her eyes flutter closed as she reaches her peak. Red spots dance across her cheeks and neck. Her breathing intensifies, and she bites down on her lip to stop herself from crying out as she comes.
She looks so beautiful deep in the throes of passion. It’s almost impossible not to lean in and claim her lips. But I don’t. When she’s no longer shaking, I pull back, slowly loosening my grip on her throat, watching the disappointment flicker across her face. She wants more—needs more.
I release her entirely, stepping back, distancing myself from the magnetic pull that threatens to unravel everything. Then I bring my glistening fingers to my mouth and lick them clean.
“You taste better than I ever imagined,” I rasp.
She watches me lick her juices from my fingers, her mouth slightly parted. “I want to know what you taste like,” she says. She gestures at my obvious erection. “Let me help you with that, Professor.”
I chuckle and shake my head before glancing over at the crowd, seeing Jack watching us from across the room, a quiet warning in his eyes .
Without a word, I turn away from Ruby, feeling her gaze on my back as I walk toward the exit. I only stop long enough to get my coat. The night air is cold when I step outside, sharp and biting against my skin.
As I walk away from the event, I’m unable to shake the thought of her—the way she made me feel, and the taste of her that still lingers on my tongue. But I’ve trained myself not to care, not to let desire or emotions rule me.
Hailing a cab, I sit in the backseat, not for the first time wondering why I am the way I am. I know I’m far from normal, I’ve seen enough psychiatrists to know that I should keep my darker thoughts to myself.
I didn’t experience any trauma or neglect in my childhood, so my darkness wasn’t coaxed out by something as basic as that. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been fascinated with emotions, especially those I never felt myself. No, that’s not true—I feel them all. Just in a more detached sort of way.
The one I feel the strongest, the one that drives most of my decisions is curiosity.
Since I was fifteen or sixteen, I’ve wondered what it would be like to take a life. And when I was twenty, I found out.
I was out with my then-girlfriend when some lowlife tried to mug us. The details of what happened are murky at best. I somehow blacked out and didn’t come back until I found myself straddling the corpse of the man whose skull I’d bashed in against the pavement.
As it was self defense, I wasn’t charged with anything. In fact, I was hailed as a hero by the NYPD, my parents, and the girl I was dating.
That was the night the Hunter was born, and even though it took a lot of practice to hone my skills and turn it into a business, that’s exactly what I did. It all became a lot easier to let my darkness out when my parents died a couple of years later, leaving me without any living family to consider.
The driver’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “We’re here.” He sounds exasperated like he’s had to speak the words more than once before getting my attention.
Annoyed at myself for allowing my thoughts to derail me, I throw a hundre d dollar bill at him and get out with a mumbled, “Thank you.”
Inside my loft, I grab a water from the fridge, denying myself the glass of red I really want. But no, wine might be the reason my thoughts are all over the place. It’s a let down that even after so many years spent carefully conditioning my mind to always stay sharp, I’m being let down by my own brain.
Huffing, I gulp down the water before I get ready for bed.
My loft is dark and quiet, the silence surrounding me like a shroud. I am lying on my back, my body sprawled across the bed. I don’t sleep with clothes on, and the cool sheets feel refreshing against my skin.
Rest doesn’t come easily. I shift, trying to find a comfortable position, but it’s impossible. My mind is elsewhere, my heart beating fast as my thoughts drift back to Ruby.
I will my arousal away, not wanting to acknowledge the way my cock is hardening at the thought of her. But my body doesn’t listen, the blood filling my length until there’s no denying the way I want her. My mouth waters at the thought of her taste. What would it be like to taste her for real? To slide my tongue into her?
My balls tighten as I imagine her moaning my name, and I grit my teeth as my cock twitches, pre-cum leaking from the tip.
A hiss of breath escapes me as I grip the bed, my body thrumming with need. I don’t want to give in to my desire. But with every second, my resolve weakens. As I close my eyes, it’s as if I can see her before me, her full lips parted as she came on my hand.
“Fuck!” My voice is a growl, and I feel my heart pick up speed. I know it’s a losing battle, and I hate it. I hate that I can’t resist her, hate how she consumes my thoughts. And I hate how she makes me feel this desperate need for her. It’s a hunger that can’t be sated, a primal need that overrides everything else.
Angry with my lack of control, I wrap my hand around my cock, squeezing the base as I start jerking off. With every stroke, I imagine it’s Ruby touching me, Ruby who’s kneeling before me, her lips wrapped around my cock. I groan at the image, my hold on my control slipping as I pump my hand faster.
The bed dips as I move, my body tensing as I chase my release. My orgasm builds, and I grit my teeth as I fight to hold back. But it’s no use. My desire for Ruby is too strong, and it pushes me over the edge. With a final stroke, I come, my seed spilling over my hand and onto my stomach.
My body shudders with the force of my release, and I dig my fingers into the sheets, needing to ground myself. I’m panting, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. But even as the last tremors of my orgasm fade, there’s no peace. My body might be sated, but my mind is still consumed with thoughts of Ruby.
As I lie in the dark, I feel the unresolved tension coiling inside me, and I know this moment has only deepened my obsession with her. And as much as I hate it, I know there’s no escaping it. Ruby has me in her grasp, and I don’t think I’ll ever be free of her.