Page 148 of Hunted

‘Oh,’ he drawls, looking at me like I’m entertainment. ‘So this is the famous hunter.’

Valentin’s fingers tighten at my hip.

And I realise, with a strange jolt of heat and dread braided together, that being in the presence of two centuries-old predators is about to spark all kinds of fireworks.

30

EIRA

Rafe Navarro’s gaze is still on me when his shoulders tighten, then ease.

The lazy smirk returns.

Valentin has answered him without moving his lips.

Mind-speak.

I know it because I’ve watched Malachi do it. Watched Aaron freeze for that half-breath when he receives instructions. Watched Valentin’s eyes sharpen when he speaks in silence.

I want to tell them it’s rude, but I don’t know whether I’m supposed to reveal to another Five Blood vampire that I know they can communicate without spoken words.

So I do the only thing I can.

I snark anyway.

‘Wow,’ I say sweetly. ‘It’s like watching two overgrown cats hiss at each other without actually hissing. Do you both do that often?’

Valentin cuts me a sharp look.

I shrug.

‘I trust you brought your own teleporter,’ Valentin says to Rafe. ‘Malachi will supply the location.’

Rafe’s brow arches. ‘Straight to business? Not even a hello or a blood-whiskey first?’

Valentin’s tension spikes, grip tightening at my waist. ‘This isn’t a social call.’

Without thinking, I lean subtly into him.

My hip presses against his. My body soothes his fury while my mind screams, What are you doing?

The effect is immediate. His grip eases a fraction as his breathing steadies. He glances down, almost surprised I dared.

Then he jerks his chin at Aaron. ‘Let’s go.’

Space folds.

The Tower vanishes.

The alley snaps into place around us, ward-burnt geometry still scarring the ground, the air still carrying the aftertaste of violence. Tezra’s body is gone, but the brutality remains, soaked into brick and shadow.

Two heartbeats later, Rafe and his guard arrive.

The Don of Chicago crouches by the sigil, leather coat pooling around him. Humour drains from his face as he inhales, long fingers hovering above the scorched marks without touching.

Valentin watches him like he’s watching a lit fuse.

Rafe rises at last. ‘You were right. They’re mine.’