1. Crypt Keeper #3
“What the—” she started as her body jolted.
Insanely, I felt it too. The wolf within scraped at the surface, fighting to get out. In that same instant, I saw her aura, and that never happened when I was in my human form. Only as my wolf could I see and scent people’s auras.
As she stared into my eyes, I knew she saw it.
Her aura seemed to flare violently, like something had been awakened.
Heat and something I couldn’t place rolled off her in crackling waves, sharp and intoxicating.
The scent hit me full in the chest—sulfur and iron, but with a sweet undertone beneath it. It was seductive… and dangerous as sin.
Fuck. She was some sort of demon. I hated demons. Though I was being forced to overcome that to some extent.
Maybe not a full-blood? I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was still enough to make my wolf snarl and gnash its teeth. How had I not sensed it immediately?
With her breath now coming in pants, she ripped the blade free and stumbled back. She was staring at me like she was the one seeing a monster for the first time.
“You’re not a werewolf,” she whispered, voice tight. Though she remained controlled, it was evident she was shaken.
“No,” I saltily agreed through gritted teeth. My blood steamed as it slowly and painfully sealed over my wounds. Whatever those blades were made of left a damn mark. “And you’re not human.”
Her jaw clenched. Whatever she was about to say, she swallowed it like a rusty nail. Instead, she attacked again.
We crashed into the mud, rolling. We were all fists and blades and gritted teeth. Agile and strong, she fought like someone who’d killed a lot of things. Things that had likely begged first. There was no wasted movement. No mercy.
Call me sick or twisted, but I loved it.
Done playing with her, I caught her arm mid-swing, twisted hard, and sent one blade flying.
Bold as fuck, she kneed me in the gut, flipped out of my reach, and regrouped at a crouch.
When she shot back to her feet, she came up and flew forward so fast, she was able to get the second knife pressed under my chin.
We were close enough that I could see the pulse pounding in her delicate-looking throat. I could smell the thick, dark blood rushing under her skin as if I were a goddamn vampire. My wolf teeth descended, my claws started to reshape my nails.
Eyes locked, I closed my hand around her wrist and squeezed until I heard her bones crack. Slowly, deliberately, I took the knife from her grip and tossed the offensive thing aside.
Quick as lightning, I wrapped a hand around her neck, my claws digging into her smooth flesh. Her eyes didn’t waver from mine as I stared at her pupils blown wide and heard her breath coming fast.
I could kill her.
She knew it.
Yet she didn’t beg. That was the problem.
“Do it,” she taunted softly, chin lifting in challenge. “Or let me go so I can finish the job I came to do.”
Silent, I stared at her, my wolf pacing, circling within my soul. Yet it wasn’t urging death, and I was so confused. Somehow, it pulsed with… possession.
Fascination curled deep and warm in my gut. She was so very wrong in every way. Dangerous as she was beautiful. A walking contradiction.
Yet for reasons I didn’t understand yet, my instincts screamed not to end her. So I stepped back as I released my hold.
Her breath stuttered, surprise flashing across her face before she masked it. She held her wounded hand protectively against her chest.
“You hunt werewolves,” I murmured, voice low. “You obviously came here for me. Why?”
Her lip curled, just barely. “No… I hunt monsters,” she spat.
“Then you picked the wrong fucking one.” I wasn’t a werewolf, but on a full moon, I could understand why people might confuse us for one.
Who had talked, though? Few people knew about what happened to me on those nights.
We were an extremely small and rare population.
Though because my mother had been an amplifier, I was a little different than the usual Rougarou.
She held my gaze for a long beat, as if committing what she’d been able to do to me to memory.
“So did you, Gideon,” she replied. Then she turned and disappeared into the swamp like she’d never been there at all. I could’ve hunted her down. For some reason, I chose not to.
“Don’t fucking call me that!” I shouted after her instead as great heaving breaths expanded my chest. Fuck, I hated that name. Heartbeat slowly returning to normal, I stood there long after the night swallowed her. Blood cooled on my skin, the echo of her scent still humming through my veins.
Demon.
Hunter.
Now she knew I wasn’t what she’d been sent to kill. My wolf growled, pleased. Yet I chastised it. Because whatever she was… she was coming back. I may not be a werewolf, but somehow I didn’t think that mattered to her.
But next time? Because I knew damn well there would be a next time. I needed to be prepared.
The way my wolf gave a satisfied rumble, I had a feeling I wouldn’t want to let her go.
What the fuck was happening in my world?