Releasing the Hunter

That seemed to give her pause and she ceased struggling.

With her still in his arms, he became acutely aware of her tantalizing scent and the way her hard body fit against his. Heat from her form spilled over onto him and sent a ripple of pleasure over him.

Ivy Strom was enticing to say the least, distracting at most. Just from their brief struggle, he could tell how strong she was, how agile and fierce. He didn’t have to see under her clothes to know that she’d be well muscled and toned. The delectable swell of her behind rubbed him in all the right places at definitely the wrong time.

Despite his demon blood, he was also a man, and he couldn’t help his reaction to her.

She must’ve noticed because she shook her head and growled, “Release me now. Before I cut it off.”

Ronan released her, pushing her forward and taking a distancing step away. “I apologize. It’s just you’re, ah, attractive.”

She smirked. “And you’re obviously still in high school.”

He gave her a small smile. “Evidently.”

Her lips twitched at that, but she fought it before they could form a smile. He did notice the playful glint in her piercing eyes, though. Interesting. Something he might have to consider later.

“So you’re a cambion,” she said.

He shrugged. “Yeah. My lot in life.”

“I’ve heard of them existing. But it’s pretty rare. Don’t most die when going through the transformation?”

“Yup. I didn’t. Lucky me.”

She studied him for a moment, and then shook her head in anger. “Yeah, well, thanks to you, I lost my mark.” She sheathed her blade. “I’m going to have a hell of a time finding him again.”

“I think I can help with that.”

She eyed him warily. “How?”

“I know where he lives.”

“Where?”

He shook his head. “It’s not going to be that easy. I want to team up with you.”

“Forget it.” She turned to go, but he grabbed her arm. She glared down at his hand.

“We’re both after the same thing. Makes sense to team up.”

“Maybe to you, but not to me.” She lifted her gaze to his. It was intense and fierce and he sensed that she was grinding her teeth to stop from ripping off his arm and beating him with it. “Remove your hand.”

He did. “Fine. Good luck trying to track him down again.”

Ronan straightened his leather jacket, then turned to go back down the alley. He walked maybe ten feet before he could sense her watching him. His spine actually tingled. It was weird. No woman had given him a reaction like that.

He made it to the mouth of the lane and was about to turn left to go back to his car when her voice reached him.

“Wait.”

Ivy grimaced at the thought of working with this man, but she was desperate enough to consider it. She’d labored for this tip for months to lose it in a matter of seconds. Who knew how long it would be before she received another reliable one? In the meantime, the demon would kill another woman or two. She didn’t know if she could handle that, recognizing she could’ve done something about it.

She didn’t know a lot about cambions. They were rare because it was extremely unusual, if not impossible, to survive a demon attack. It was like being infected with a virus. A fast-acting virus that radically changed your physiology. Thankfully, it could only be passed through blood transfer. According to myth, cambions possessed many of the same powers that demons did. Super-strength, superhealing, super resilience to death. But supposedly it left their humanity intact.

Looking at this man now, she couldn’t be sure. It could totally be a trap. He could be working for the demons. It was too bad she didn’t have much of a choice.

She walked down the alley to him. “If we work together, it’s all my way or the highway.”

“Funny considering you have nothing to bargain with, but sure, fine, we’ll play it your way.”

He had a certain swagger to him, this darkhaired man. It definitely could’ve been the demon blood infecting him, but she had to admit she kind of liked it. Respected was maybe a better word.

“If I had nothing to bargain with, you wouldn’t be so eager to want to team up with me.”

He grinned, and she imagined his dark green eyes glinted mischievously. “You got me there.”

She eyed him up and down, taking in his solidly built frame and lanky legs. Just by the way he stood, with his arms to his sides, she knew he was well equipped. There was no mistaking the bulge under his jacket, probably a 9mm, or the slight hump under his T-shirt, a bowing knife most likely. He probably had blades strapped to both ankles, as well. At least he came prepared. Maybe it wouldn’t be a total waste teaming up with him.

She suspected he was well equipped in the physical department, as well. He made one big target. She could use him as a body shield if worse came to worst.

“What’s your name?”

“Ronan Ames.”

“Okay, Ronan, we’ll try this partnership out. But if I suspect that you are screwing with me or you don’t hold up your end of the bargain, I will bleed out that demon blood of yours.”

“Deal.” He offered his hand.

She took it gingerly, gave a firm shake then released it as quick as she could. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to shake his hand, it was that touching his skin sent a rush of something pleasant over her flesh. The little hairs on her arms and back of neck were standing at attention. And she wasn’t happy about it one bit.

Chapter 3

An hour later, after they had consolidated their individual vehicles—Ronan had stolen his anyway—and amassed their weapons and equipment, Ivy was sitting in the driver’s seat of her rusted-out old heavy pickup with a cambion beside her, parked in front of a small bungalow in a part of town usually reserved for the elderly. It definitely was not her idea of an ideal situation. But it was the best option she had right now if she wanted to put down the demon that had been terrorizing the city. If she wanted answers she had to play the game.

“Are you sure this is the place?”

Ronan nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Where is he, then?”

Even in the dark she could tell that he was staring at her. She could feel the contempt sizzle in the air. “Don’t know. I’m not his secretary. I don’t have his itinerary loaded on my phone.”

“You don’t have to be a smart-ass.”

“Yeah, I think I do when you ask me dumb-ass questions.”

She was about to argue, but knew he had her there. It had been a dumb-ass question. She was just anxious. And anxiety made her on edge, and being on edge made her cranky. It was a vicious cycle.