Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
AMbrOSE
I blur into the shadows outside Mercy’s little cabin, watching the dark windows and listening to the sounds of humanity inside. One of the benefits of being a Hunter is that my senses come alive at night; the deeper the ichor, the more the world lights up for me. Not in sight, of course, but in sound and scent and taste. And I can tell that Mercy is awake inside that cabin.
It’s about ten minutes until midnight. Mercy told me that the church’s paramilitary is patrolling the campus, so I went sniffing around earlier today to find out more from Deacon Price, the one who’s supposed to be in charge. He let slip that they’re keeping to the periphery of the compound since they assume it’s an outsider coming in. Still, I keep some feelers out for the guards, but they aren’t nearby.
Movement from Mercy’s cabin. A shadow passes by the window, dark on dark, and I drift forward, moving with my light predator’s steps. I have my switchblade tucked into my pocket, just in case, but I doubt I’ll need it. This isn’t a killing night, assuming I keep my wits about me.
I move up to the little plastic picket fence that wraps around Mercy’s postage stamp yard, still keeping to the darkness. Her heartbeat thuds through the walls. She’s nervous. Excited. Frightened, too. My cock twitches, eager to be inside her.
A whisper of footsteps; Mercy steps out of the house through the front door, dressed in a black dress like I told her to wear, her hair up in those braids. For a moment, she stands on the porch, sweeping her gaze around like a frightened rabbit. She doesn’t see me even though I’m right in front of her, watching her, but I bet her skin prickles and the soft downy hair on her arms stands on ends. That’s the effect I have.
I move forward, letting myself be known. When she sees me, she jumps and slaps her hand over her mouth, smothering a yelp of surprise. Then she scurries across the yard, her footsteps thunderous.
“You frightened me,” she whispers.
Oh, she only knows the half of it.
“There’s nothing to be frightened of,” I tell her instead. “But we don’t want to dally. Come along.”
I grab her hand, her skin cold and clammy with anxiety, and pull her forward, leading her on a path only I can see—one that’s marked by shadows and darkness. While my heart is as calm as ever, hers is as loud as a thunderstorm, and I find myself squeezing her hand, trying to soothe her.
What is it about this woman, that I want to soothe her as much as I want to terrify her?
We make it to the bunker without incident. I keep my senses on the guards pacing around the fence, which allows us to cut across the center of the compound without being noticed. Although I’ll admit, when I finally see the bunker’s big metal door, I do feel something like relief. I really want to protect my last few hours with Mercy.
Mercy’s relieved, too. She sighs next to me when we get to the door. “I can’t believe that worked,” she whispers. “I was sure we were going to get caught.”
The danger’s exciting her. I can feel it. I can see it in the glassy shine of her eyes.
“Told you,” I murmur back. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
I punch in the code to the bunker. A split second later, the keypad turns green and there’s a quiet, hydraulic hiss as the door cracks open. I glance over at Mercy.
“Good girl,” I tell her, grinning.
The way she flushes with pleasure absolutely perfumes the air.
I push the door open and let her go inside first, glancing over my shoulder to confirm, one last time, that there aren’t any humans around to see what we’re doing.
“You can close the door,” she says. “It doesn’t lock automatically. And besides, the code will work to get us out.”
I peer through the doorway to find her standing in a narrow, dimly-lit hallway. “You sure about that?”
She smiles a little. “Yeah. I’ve been down here before, remember? There’s also a phone. We’d be able to call for help. Not that—” She tucks her hair behind her ear, looking away from me. “Not that I’d really want to do that.”
I pull the door shut, the clang echoing around us. She’s right; the door doesn’t lock, which is a relief. I don’t really like the idea of leaving it shut, but leaving it open is inviting trouble, too.
“See?” she says.
“We should probably work fast,” I tell her. “Do you know where the files are?”
“Not exactly ?” Mercy gives me a shy, sheepish look, which just makes me want to bend her over and smack her on the ass, punishment for not being prepared.
“Not exactly?” I stroll up to her and curl my hand around her throat like I did this morning. She stares at me expectantly, her lips parted and her eyes bright. “So we’re going to have to go looking?”
“I have a vague idea .” Her eyes glitter mischievously, and my cock jumps.
I had planned to wait until we were back at my cabin, the file secured, before I fucked her. Now I’m not sure I can hold out that long.
“Well, let’s see it, then. Your vague idea .” I slide my hand away from her throat. “Lead the way.”
She does, taking me down the narrow metal hallway, the automatic lights casting everything in an eerie, yellowish glow. It tilts down, taking us deeper underground, and I wonder what the hell Gunner thinks is going to happen, building a structure like this.
I wonder what he’s planning to do .
And I wonder, distantly, what that might mean for Mercy.
Not your concern , I tell myself as we wind deeper into the bunker. She’s human. Your obligations are to your own kind.
“If I had to guess, they’d be in here.” Mercy’s echoing voice jars me out of my thoughts. She stops in front of a doorway and pushes it open, releasing a rush of stale, cool air. “The last time I was down here, Mrs. Harrison had me drop off a box of old files in this room.”
She reaches inside and hits a light switch, flooding the room with more sallow lighting. The room is bigger than I was expecting, a cavernous labyrinth of cardboard boxes. Mercy spins around, her skirt flaring up so I catch, ever-so-briefly, a flash of her calf.
It really is like I’m a fucking teenager again.
“This is going to take all night,” I tell her.
“So we’ll just have to come back.” She arches an eyebrow, and I get a strange, tight knot in my chest—because she wants to be here. Even if it means sneaking out and breaking the rules.
She has no idea what I am. If she did, she would not be this excited to be trapped in an underground bunker with me.
But her big, bright grin sloughs away any doubts I have. She doesn’t have to know what I am or what I’ve done. We’ll have our fun together, I’ll leave her with some good memories, and that’ll be the end of it.
“That’s risky, you know.” I stride up to her, loving the way she gazes up at me with that worshipful expression. I cup her face, rubbing my thumb over her lips?—
Which she parts, drawing my thumb into her mouth. Her eyes never leave mine.
Fuck, I really do need to get her out of my system.
“Are those files even down here?” I ask her, using my killing voice so I can feel her squirm against me. It works. “Or was this just a ploy to get me alone?”
Mercy releases my thumb, giving me a glimpse of her pink tongue in the process. I want it on my cock, want it plunging up into my asshole. I want to make her do things the good Reverend Gunner wouldn’t dream of.
“They’re down here,” she says primly. “And I think I know where.”
“You said you weren’t even sure they were in this room.”
Mercy grins and pulls away from me, disappearing down one of the aisles of boxes. I take the opportunity to adjust my cock, which has grown uncomfortably hard. I’m already thinking about the things I want to do down here—a reward if she gets the file, a punishment if she doesn’t. I don’t even know which I’d prefer.
“Are you coming?” she calls out.
I’m about to , I think, but I don’t say anything, just follow her scent through the dim light. I find her on the far side of the room, kneeling next to a stack of boxes. She looks over her shoulder at me. “Help me with these.”
“You think the files are over here?” I hoist up the top box, an easy weight given my Hunter’s strength. Mercy’s eyes go wide, though she doesn’t say anything.
“Um, yeah, I think so. It looks like they’re connected to the adoption program, anyway. And you said she was adopted in the ’90s, right?”
“Yeah. Early ‘90s.”
She shoves a box aside and drags another one out. The way she’s positioned highlights the thick curve of her ass, like she’s situating herself just for me. Like she’s putting herself in a position to be fucked.
“Oh my god, I think—” Her voice is muffled as she burrows deeper into the boxes, lifting her ass even higher. I have to bite back the urge to tell her to freeze. “I think I found it!”
She falls back on her heels, breaking the pretty picture of her submission. But she also drags out another tattered old banker’s box, scraping it across the floor to bounce against my feet.
“There you go,” she says, a little breathless. “Adoption files from 1990 to 1995.”
Well, well, well. It seems my little human might get rewarded tonight, after all.
“Not as many as I thought there’d be.” I’m surprised at how well I keep myself composed, especially when Mercy sits down on the floor, her skirt hiking up around her thighs. I lower down into a crouch and pull the lid off.
“We don’t do that many,” she says. “At least from what I understand.” She hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip. “I heard it isn’t—well, it isn’t exactly legal .”
I snort. Big surprise there. “Yeah, well, I’m not worried about it. Like I said, Charlotte just needs her parents’ names so she can track them down. ”
The tabs flash by. Bronson. Buford. Callen.
“I wish I could meet her,” Mercy says softly.
I pause, just for a second. Part of me wishes that, too, but I keep pushing through the tabs. Because that’s an impossibility.
Careta, Franklin. There it is.
I yank the file out of the box, flip it open.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Mercy asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “I think I did.” I glance down at the papers in the file—an intake form for Baby Medina . Medina. I don’t know any Hunters with that name, but that doesn’t mean much.
I scan over the intake form, looking for anything that could point to the full name of Charlotte’s birth parents. Mercy leans close to me, her breath warm on my shoulder.
“You know,” I say, still skimming the form as I talk. “I decided when we came in here I was either going to punish you or reward you.”
Mercy’s heart rate picks up, and I glance at her over the top of the file, give her a slow, easy grin. Her eyes widen.
“I-I don’t understand,” she says shyly.
I think she does, though. She squeezes her dress up in her fists, and the blood is rushing to her face.
“If we didn’t find the file, I was going to punish you.” I flip the intake form over, and there, finally, I see it:
Mother: Julia Medina. Father: Johnny Dobsals.
There’s an address next to the mother’s name, some small town in Oklahoma. Next to the father’s, it just says, Location unknown.
Well, damn. It looks like Charlotte’s mom was the one who put her up for adoption, which means she’s almost certainly not a Hunter—no Hunter would give their child to a fucking church. But I don’t recognize this Johnny Dobsals, either. Granted, most of us change names like we change clothes.
At least I’ve got a starting point, though .
“But you did find the file,” Mercy says softly. “Didn’t you? Is that it?”
I snap it shut and peer up at her.
“I did,” I say. “Which means you get a reward.”
I stand. Mercy doesn’t move, just gazes up at me. Fuck, I love her like that. Pliant. Supplicant. Eager to please.
Sterling Gunner doesn’t deserve her.
“What kind of reward?” But she knows. I can see it in the gleam of her eyes. I can smell it in the arousal perfuming the air.
“Take off your clothes,” I tell her. “And you’ll find out.”