Page 148 of Hunt Me

“No Ezra?” he chided.

“Lord Gustafson and I believe he is ready.”

Ezra appeared at her side.

“What say you?” Luka asked.

“I say it is best to strike now than be surprised later.”

“And you are certain?” Luka asked. Outwardly, he wore a calm mask, but Matilda could tell he was fraught with nerves.

“I am certain.”

Luka stood with his daughter and heir cradled in his arms and approached the window. He stared at his kingdom and considered the inhabitants. If David failed, they would be collateral. But he had to have faith in his advisor and his wife.

“In a fortnight, send the official challenge.”

55

A New Beginning

Rain pelted softly against the carriage windows as Night Falls rolled past. Matilda sat across from Luka in the dim interior, and Denalia slept against her chest beneath a thick fur blanket as the carriage wheels groaned steadily over the uneven road. The motion should’ve been soothing, but all Matilda could focus on was everything confined within the small space.

Luka’s scent overpowered the scent of leather and rainwater like a constant reminder she couldn’t escape him, even when she hated him.

Especially when she hated him….

After she turned, quiet tension lived between them. She loved him but didn’t trust him. He loved her but knew he needed to give her space to come back to him.

They fought, fucked, and fed from each other, as to be expected, but the silence between them during the quiet moments felt cataclysmic. Some nights she lay in bed with him thinking she still might kill him; other nights she just wanted to be held. It was a never-ending cycle that she couldn’t break.

Denalia stirred in her sleep, grabbing her mother’s attention. Matilda’s attention dropped to her daughter, and the anxiousness she felt stilled inside of her.

“If only she would slumber like this at night,” Luka commented, observing from across the carriage.

Matilda glanced up briefly. “The movement calms her.”

“So does your heartbeat.”

Luka’s yearning gaze lingered on Matilda for a brief moment before shifting toward the rain-streaked window beside him. Matilda envied him. He looked more composed than she felt. She smirked when he rolled his shoulder.

Luka returned her smirk. “Do you take joy in my agony?”

“Slightly,” Matilda answered honestly.

“You nearly severed my wing.”

“I was there.”

His smirk slipped into a solemn frown. “When will you forgive me, my beloved?”

Matilda peered into their sleeping child’s face and sighed. “Perhaps when she sprouts her wings.”

He snorted. “That is impossible. She is not a true ancient. Matilda,” he said softly. “I’m begging you.”

“You are not begging. Begging requires you on your knees.”

Luka laughed and leaned back against the seat. He watched the landscape change from dense forests to rolling hills and farmlands.