Guilt, My Old Friend
“Coffee?” I asked, leading the way into a kitchen that wasn’t mine. Hands shaking, I worked the coffee machine to my liking with Sloan hovering curiously behind me.
His hand touched the counter before affectionately covering my quaking one. He stalled me before I lost control over a pot full of water. “Let me,” the blue-eyed incubus entreated sweetly and quickly took over the task.
In chic but militia-grade training attire, the gorgeous man looked like he’d definitely come to play.
His dark hair was slicked back away from his striking blue eyes, his strong jaw on full display.
He didn’t have piercings like Phillip did, but ink peeked out from the back of his collar, indicating some sort of tattoo was there.
It was the first time I noticed it since meeting the other Hunter, and I wanted to know if he had more than one, or if it was large or maybe just a little one.
But outright asking him to take off his shirt so I could see it would make me look much too thirsty for my liking.
Didn’t want Sloan to think I was a hormone-charged teenager, even though that was exactly what I was.
The beautiful Hunter dropped several tablespoons of coffee into the filter and locked it into place, his movements smooth and confident. Not far from what he looked like in a fight.
Sloan’s sinewy body was outfitted with heavy weaponry, placed strategically all over his chest and legs, and styled for his long-range preference. Hand sticks, a crossbow, and a couple spiked whips were scattered around his torso and back.
Kinky.
Yep. I was going to Hell. Talk about déjà vu.
I caught sight of a few devices I’d seen on Phillip a handful of times.
They were fitted into holding spots within proper reaching distance around his shoulders and waist. Sloan and Phillip had at some point worked together, so it made sense he’d employ similar tools.
It was likely with his help they were created, if I thought about it.
Phillip mentioned Sloan was the dude who helped him create the serum and reverse serum; it wouldn’t be a far-off guess to think he’d helped with other things, too.
I’d chosen to wear my fighting gear as well, always ready to defend myself because Grams never settled for anything less.
With training, I didn’t expect either guy would take it easy on me.
My life depended on learning whatever I could as fast as I could, and they wouldn’t be doing me any favors by going easy on me.
“Are you doing okay? Where’s Phillip?” His sideways glance landed on me with a sincerity that brought immediate heat to my face.
How is Sloan this sparkly at five in the morning? Jesus.
Sucking in a calming breath, I pivoted and rested back against the counter, my eyes aimed the direction of Phillip’s bedroom. “Probably still sleeping is my guess,” I lied.
Sloan started the machine and then mimicked my position against the counter. “I sense otherwise.”
My shoulders stiffened, guilt rising into my throat. “I don’t like how perceptive all you damn Hunters are.”
I preferred stupid school boys who almost never picked up on subtle or unsubtle hints, no matter what I did. I missed it. Now I was always on guard, sure my every intention and thought could be read on my face.
Shrugging, Sloan crossed his arms and directed a kind look at me. “That wasn’t my intention. I’m just curious if I may have unintentionally caused problems with my visit last night.”
I scoffed and swept stray hair out of my eyes, shaking my head. “Not at all. You were great. Just the dude upstairs who needs to think a little before he speaks.”
“So I was right to assume you fought?”
Damn. He’s good.
“Something like that,” I whispered before Phillip strode into the kitchen, looking all bad and delicious and not the least bit bothered by our fight. But of course he wouldn’t be. I was the only one drowning in the shame and guilt from all the things I said.
What a bastard.
“Brought the materials we discussed?” Phillip asked of Sloan, and the other Hunter nodded at the table.
A stack of books, weathered by time, were organized into a neat pile, and I stared at them in outright confusion. When had he put those there? I hadn’t even seen the dude carry them inside. Or put them down on the table, for that matter.
Mystified but also pretty impressed, I walked over to the table and opened the cover of the top book.
Lines of text I didn’t understand scrolled across the page, tiny and compressed to an obnoxious level.
It was the very image of one of my high school text books, and it dragged out the inner-teen groan in me.
This is going to be a bitch to read.
Any Hunter, barely trained or not, would know it was obviously written in code. But luckily there were pictures scattered throughout the pages. Diagrams and depictions to give some insight to what it detailed.
Other supernatural creatures.
Just upon a gander, there were several creatures I didn’t immediately recognize. I couldn’t even ascertain whether they were friend or foe. All of them looked some level of dangerous, and I stared openly at a few drawings before asking, “Code?”
Sloan came to stand beside me, leaning over enough to give my heart a start. “There’s a trick to it. I’ll teach you. Once you figure it out, it’ll be easy enough to read.”
“Lucky me,” I sassed with a sideways grin.
Sloan’s lips twitched upwards, clearly amused, and Phillip abruptly cleared his throat. The two of us separated as the other Hunter stole the book and nodded to the fridge.
“Get something to eat, V. We’ll start in a half hour,” Phillip commanded bluntly, luminous eyes on Sloan. “It’s been a bit since your last blood bag, and you’ll need all the power you can get today.”
Grumbling, I walked over to the fridge and retrieved three blood bags for each one of us. I tossed the first to Sloan, then flicked my eyes over to where the Austrian sat, preparing my heart.
When Phillip’s intense blue eyes came into view, my heart lost a beat and I stopped breathing altogether.
His face didn’t give any emotion away. The Austrian was as expressionless as ever.
Honestly, he looked totally fine, and it was a slap to the face to be the only one affected by our argument.
The older Hunter’s words repeated in my head, lodging something in my throat, and I had to tear my gaze away from him to keep from crying.
Crying?
The telltale burn in my eyes suggested I was very close to doing that very thing, and it was more of a shock to me than anything else. Me, the strong huntress and granddaughter to the fiercest Hunter who ever lived.
It was laughable.
Phillip made it clear from the beginning we were casual, and him possibly falling for me didn’t change anything. Me falling for him didn’t mean we needed to be in a relationship. Honestly, he was doing me a favor by pushing me away.
Yeah. It was better this way.
I turned to Sloan, ignoring the Austrian entirely. “Teach me that nifty trick of yours, Master Sloan.”
His expression bled away to confusion, then exhilaration. “Master? I quite like that.”
“Again,” Sloan demanded. He was knelt where I presently crouched, my hands on my knees and all of my confidence absolutely shot.
Holy Christ. Sloan was ruthless.
“Give me a minute,” I complained, finally getting to my feet with a long exhale.
Sloan swung his leg out, intending to catch me before I straightened out all the way, and I somersaulted out of range.
Our blades clashed in a spray of sparks, sending us both back in the ricochet.
I flipped backwards and avoided another one of the British charmer’s swings with a long stick he sported just for our training session.
It lunged out, and I kicked it away before it reached my stomach.
Sloan didn’t look it, but the dude was absolutely brutal with a fucking stick.
Yes. A stick. As in, something I could easily find in the forest on a hike.
It wasn’t thoughtfully engineered or cleverly weaponized with advanced technology to withstand an attack from someone like me.
It was a branch he’d probably found on the ground somewhere before coming over.
Sloan used it in ways I hadn’t even thought of.
Vaulting across spaces like some kind of martial arts villain.
The real trick was the branch had stayed in one piece, and I didn’t know how.
The strength I employed would break stone.
So, what kind of monster was Sloan to use some branch like it was a steel pole?
Even with being a genetically superior Hunter, I barely avoided Sloan’s attacks.
He was always right on top of me, one step ahead, forever on the offense and I, endlessly on the defense.
His movements were seamless—a dance I barely matched on my best day.
But I admired how smart the gorgeous Hunter fought, and I wanted nothing more than to learn everything he could teach.
I kicked off the wall, aiming a blow at his head, but Sloan easily dodged my assault. His arm swung out and the long stick struck my back, throwing me down onto the padded floor. A loud slap rang out and heat cut a harsh line across my back.
Every single one of his hits hurt like a bitch.
“You’re moving too slow. With an elder vampire or Shifter this might pass, but up against a creature with magic on its side, you’d be dead.
” Sweat gleamed on his forehead as the other Hunter stabbed his stick down onto the floor.
Sighing, Sloan tossed back his hair, his steel gaze missing the signature gentleness I was used to seeing on the Brit.
“You need to be clever and fast, and right now you’re neither. ”
Guess even Sloan could be an asshole.
“Rude. I’m really trying here,” I complained, not the least bit eager to get off the ground.
Sloan sighed again. “Not hard enough.”
“You’re a real hard-ass when it comes to this stuff, huh?” I mumbled, on my hands and knees. “Don’t you feel even a little bit bad about hitting a girl?”