Chapter 33
The Prey
T he click echoes sharply in the silence.
Of course, nothing happens, just as I thought it wouldn’t. I wasn’t lying when I said I trust him, so I figured he wouldn’t hurt me. Still, my entire body jerks in response to the sound.
Trembling, I open my eyes, only to find Valentine staring back at me, his expression unreadable. “You’re so brave, Ruby,” he says softly, as if he’s afraid I’ll shatter at the slightest touch.
I nod, tears streaming down my face.
“You did so good,” he croons.
His arms are outstretched as he slowly takes one step toward me. I’m confused, not understanding why he’s talking to me like I’m a wounded animal.
“Why don’t you put down the gun, Ruby?”
Oh! It’s not until his words penetrate the fog in my brain that I realize it’s still pressed against my temple. My hand trembles so much it’s hard to keep my grip on the revolver, but I force myself not to let it drop as I lower my arm, pointing it at the ground.
Why am I feeling like this? Sluggish and as though I’m in shock. It makes no sense when I fully believed he wouldn’t hurt me.
“ You were never in any danger,” he admits. “I would never gamble with your life, Ruby. You’re too important for that.”
I don’t know why the revelation that he cares makes my legs tremble, or why black spots dance around my peripheral. “Y-you…” With no dignity or grace, I fall to the floor, my legs giving out from the weight of his confession.
What am I missing here? Why am I suddenly acting like a victim when I willingly pulled the trigger?
“Ruby! Hey, let me help you.” Valentine reaches for me, but my body acts on its own accord, flinching away from him.
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss.
He crouches down in front of me. “Are you okay?” he asks. His eyes bore into mine as if he’s looking for something.
I stare up at him through eyes that are quickly filling with tears. “You did gamble with me,” I whisper. My brain feels as though it’s half a step behind as I belatedly reply to what he said before I fell to the floor.
It might not have been my life he gambled with, it was my psyche and my feelings. My… love for him.
Pulling my legs up, I rest my head on my knees. A sob breaks free, and I make no attempt at stopping it. My head hurts, a pulsing headache has settled in my temples. I’m tired, exhausted, obviously either overwhelmed or in shock.
“Why?” Swallowing, I lift my head and meet his gaze. “At least tell me why.” My voice sounds all wrong, like I’m deep underwater.
Valentine places a finger under my chin so I have no choice but to continue looking at him. “Because I needed to know you trust me completely,” he replies.
As my eyes scan his face, I try to find any trace of remorse for what he made me do. I no longer care that I did it willingly, he still made me. When I find none, anger roars to life, pumping through my veins like poison.
“And now I know you’re not worth trusting,” I seethe.
I’m propelled into movement as he lets out an arrogant huff. “Pet—”
“No!” I scream as I stagger to my feet. “Don’t call me that right now.”
I’ve always loved his nickname for me, but right now it sounds more like a cruel taunt than an endearment.
Filled with rage, I do the unthinkable; I aim the weapon at him, at Valentine. It feels like a sacrilegious act, and it hurts me to do it. “No.” I repeat the word several more times as I back away, putting some distance between us.
He doesn’t cower or plead with me. He fucking smirks, not even looking at the metal in my hands. “Are you going to shoot me? Do you think you have what it takes to end me, Pet?”
“I told you not to call me that,” I screech. “I’m not your pet. I’m not your anything.”
He chuckles, a dark sound that makes the hairs on my neck stand at attention. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re whatever I want you to be, and that includes being mine.”
My hand trembles so much it’s hard to keep my grip on the revolver, but I force myself not to let it drop. As I continue moving backward, I realize my mistake when my back connects with the wall. I’ve trapped myself. I’m freaking naked and trapped.
“Come on. What’s it going to be? Are you going to kill me?” His tone is smooth as velvet, and I know he’s pitching his voice that way on purpose. To lure me into a false sense of security.
“I have to,” I cry. “I know what you are. Who you are.”
To my surprise and dismay, the revelation barely has an impact on him. He cocks an eyebrow and folds his arms over his chest. “And who am I?”
“The H-Hunter,” I stammer. “You’re him.”
Valentine’s expression morphs from a taunting smirk into cold and detached amusement. “Is that so?” He moves closer, not stopping until the barrel of the revolver digs into his chest. “What makes you say that? Was it my little game at the cabin that gave it away?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve, ahh, known for longer.” At my admission, he lets out an audible sigh. “Since you made me kneel under your desk in your office,” I clarify.
Although I don’t know why it feels important that he knows how long I’ve known.
“ I saw the tattoo on your wrist from under the desk. I’ve known since then.”
He opens his mouth, and I feel a sense of pride, of accomplishment, as no words come out. Feeling empowered, I straighten my back and spin the revolver around, offering him the handle.
“Take it,” I say, my voice stronger now. “I’m not going to hurt you, Valentine. Unlike you, I don’t play games with people’s lives. So you’re safe.”
He looks almost contrite as he takes the weapon.
Another sob builds inside me, and I feel my heart shatter as I look at him.
All those years ago, when Michael bought me, I swore I’d never allow my heart to be broken again. What a sick joke my life is. Not only am I in love with the notorious Hunter, it’s worse than unrequited love.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I shake my head as treacherous thoughts swirl in my mind. All of them center around the decisions I’ve made with Valentine. I hear Jack’s warning and remember shrugging them off. I see myself kneeling under that damn desk, and not telling anyone the identity of the Hunter. When Michael was beating the shit out of me, I never told him who bit me.
Then my brain flicks forward, showing me how I got out of bed, and left Jack’s safe apartment and walked the streets of New York alone at night, all to get to Valentine. I willingly put myself in harm’s way for him, for a man that made me put a gun to my head.
“You’re a piece of shit,” I snarl, infusing every single ounce of anger I feel into my tone. “I protected you from Michael. I defended you to Jack, and I…” Trailing off, I shake my head.
There’s no point in saying any of this. He clearly doesn’t care, and maybe that’s the realization that causes me to continue.
“I love you, Valentine. I’m in love with you. W-why isn’t that enough?”
His dark eyes become colder at my words. “I needed to know your trust is real,” he says. There’s a finality in his tone that tells me he considers this the end of this discussion. But it isn’t, not to me.
I don’t know what hurts most; that he isn’t even acknowledging my declar ation of love, or that he’s playing with me.
“Why?” I demand.
“Because we weren’t alone at the cabin. Michael followed us there.”
“Okay…” I trail off, unsure why that’s an issue. Apart from not wanting him to ever know about me and Valentine, I don’t see the problem. “It’s inconvenient, but is it really that big a deal?”
Valentine runs a hand down his face and exhales audibly. “I’ve had some business with him in the past.”
“Business?” I echo. Then I finally get it. “He’s hired the Hunter… I mean you, in the past.”
The corners of Valentine’s lips twist into a cold semblance of a smile. But there’s something else there, something that looks remarkably like guilt in his eyes. “You’re right. He had a problem, and hired me to make it go away.”
I get the distinct feeling that there’s something he isn’t telling me. But now isn’t the time to dissect whatever happened whenever Michael hired him to kill someone.
“Fuck.” I don’t know if I speak the word out loud or only think it, all I know is the panic coursing through my veins like a cold, unforgiving poison.
Michael can’t know about Valentine, he just can’t. My husband’s connections… his brother… their extracurriculars… all the things I do my best never to consider resurface, making my stomach churn and I retch.
“H-he can’t know about you.” This time I know I’m speaking the words. “Michael is—” Biting the inside of my cheek, I cut myself off.
This has to be the living embodiment of damned if you do, damned if you don’t. If I tell Valentine what Michael is really capable of… well, I can’t do that. But I also can’t let Michael walk around unscathed if he knows Valentine’s true identity.
“He’ll kill you,” I whisper, not completely sure which one of them I’m talking about.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I do my best to gather my thoughts.
This is no longer about saving Valentine, it’s also about my own survival. Michael and I can’t both live… not anymore.
My legs tremble as I take a step forward, meeting Valentine’s gaze head on. “I have to go,” I say, my voice empty as I walk around him and into the bedroom.
He halts me by gripping my shoulder, applying pressure until I willingly turn around and face him. “Go where?”
A shiver runs down my spine as I tilt my head back so I can look up at him; the Hunter. “Does it matter?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Rolling my eyes, I demand, “Why? Why does it matter to you, Valentine?” I want to cross my arms over my chest, but I don’t. He’ll think I’m doing it to shield myself, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
Nudity isn’t a big deal to me. Not anymore—not for years. Michael has paraded me in front of his psycho brother and some of his friends more times than I can count, even allowed them to touch me. Not to mention the men he’s asked me to seduce for his own gain.
So no, I don’t get uncomfortable or shy at something as inconsequential as baring my body.
“It matters because I say so,” he says.
His calm tone grinds on my nerves, but it’s the smirk that makes me lose my temper. Without any hesitation or thought, I step closer until he’s close enough to reach. Then I slap him across the cheek, so hard the skin ripples. To my frustration, it doesn’t even feel good. It feels like… like I’m very much the pet he calls me. A pet that’s now turned on its master.
“Ruby—”
I interrupt his growl and take a step back. “No!” I shout, my voice reverberating through his loft. “Fuck you, Valentine. Fuck you and your fucking tests. You wanted me to prove my trust for you, and I did. But you… you…” My breath comes out in angry huffs that steal my voice.
“Ruby—”
“I said no,” I scream, jumping further back as he reaches for me. “You single-handedly broke any trust I had in you the second your fucked up test concluded.”
Turning my back on him again, I angrily march into the bedroom and reach for my clothes. But before I can even pick up the soaked jeans, I’m picked up and thrown onto the bed. “You don’t dictate the terms of our relationship,” Valentine growls. His tone is as menacing as the look on his face.
“What relationship?” I scoff, not backing down.
He closes his hands around my wrists and drags my arms above my head while using his lower body to pin me to the mattress. “You’re mine, Ruby.”
“The hell I am,” I spit, bucking to get him off me, but he doesn’t budge, not even a little.
I gnaw at my lip, refusing to let my triumph show as he pushes me further up the bed, pushing his knee behind my legs. Where I’m not the strongest, I learn from my mistakes. And trying to fight Michael off taught me a valuable lesson; choose your battlefield.
During the drive back from the cabin, I had plenty of time to think about how Valentine got me there. I remembered everything; the pleasure he gave me, which was followed by the prick of a needle. I might not have been able to recognize it if it wasn’t because Michael has kept me sedated like that on more than one occasion. But he has, so I did.
Earlier, when I was asleep in Valentine’s bed, he woke me up when he got out of bed. And the second he left me alone, I didn’t waste any time. Leaning against the end of the bed, I touched every brick in the wall within reach until I came across a loose one. That’s when I found the small bottle with the liquid, and a spare syringe, both of which are now hidden beneath the pillow he just pushed me up against.
“Stop fighting me,” he growls, lowering himself so he speaks directly into my ear. “There’s no point.”
He’s half right about that, but I can’t give in this easily. So instead, I thrash while screaming for him to let me go. Needing my arms free, I try to kick him. Predictably, he lets go of my wrists and instead grabs my thighs, forcing them wide apart.
Too arrogant to even consider I might be able to one up him, he shifts and buries his head against my inner thigh. He rubs his stubbled cheek across the tender skin, making it burn deliciously. I moan as he runs a finger along my exposed slit.
“Mhmm, you’re so wet for me.” His deep, husky voice makes me shiver with delight, and I moan again as he pushes two fingers into me. “I need to taste you.”
Lifting my hips, I invite him closer. It’s not all acting, I’m not that good. I smirk when he moves my legs over his shoulders while kneading my buttocks.
I wait until he’s groaning against my opening, praising the taste of me. Then I forcefully squeeze my thighs around his head, holding him in place while I reach for the syringe. I waste no time pushing myself up and plunging the needle into his neck.
“What the hell?” he roars, jerking so wildly I can’t keep my grip on him. My eyes widen as I watch him pull the needle from his neck while pushing himself up to his knees. “W-what did y-you do?” he demands on a slur.
I’m spared from having to answer when he wobbles, his lids closing. As I scramble off the bed, he faceplants onto the mattress, his face buried in the sheets.
Since I don’t know what I’ve just given him, or even how much since I just emptied whatever was left in the bottle, I rush to get dressed. Instead of bothering with the wet jeans, I steal a pair of his boxer briefs and a long-sleeved turtle-neck sweater. With the help of one of his belts, I make it look like a makeshift dress.
After grabbing my things, I push Valentine to the side so he doesn’t risk suffocating. My hands tremble as I roam through my bag, looking for my phone. But when I find it, I realize it’s dead. Of course it is.
Instead of panicking, I find Valentine’s next to his laptop. And after holding it in front of his face to unlock it, I dial Jack’s number.
“Hello?” he asks, sounding groggy and angry. “Who the hell is this?”
“Hi Jack—”
“Rubes? Is that you? Are you okay? Where the hell have you been?”
Sighing, I ignore most of his questions. “I’m in Brooklyn—”
“Brooklyn? What the fuck… wait, you’re with him, Valentine, aren’t you?”
“Jack,” I say, sterner than I mean to. “Can you come pick me up?”
Of course, he agrees right away, promising me he’ll be here shortly. After hanging up, I go back to look at Valentine one last time. He loo ks almost otherworldly as he lies there, every muscle relaxed. I press a soft kiss to his lips, knowing there’s a good chance I’ll never get to kiss him again.