Hunter's Moon, Loribelle Hunt [story reading TXT] 📗

gaze wondering when the hell Julian had abandoned her. Was she that far gone?

Hell yeah. This kind of lust was a potent thing. She refused to consider what it might signify. Instead she smiled at Ellen. The woman was so beautiful, so ethereal and Earth angel-like, Gia had been certain when they first met she’d hate her. It was impossible not to love Ellen though. She had an angel’s face, a sharp tongue and brilliant mind, and lived with werewolves. She not only held her own but gave them a run for their money.

“I have to agree. But he isn’t mine,” she added hastily when Ellen’s eyes lit up in interest.

“Oh, honey,” she said softly, turning back to look at Clint and Anthony. “You’re wrong about that. He’s yours for the taking.”

Pressing her lips together, she shook her head. Sex was one thing. Hell, she’d love a repeat. But anything more lasting? Anything that suggested permanent? Something that went with that mine assertion? Fuck no.

Ellen gave her the focused considering look she did so well. “You do understand what’s going on between you two, right?”

She huffed. “I know what you’re getting at, but no. You’re wrong.”

Ellen arched an eyebrow, disbelief obvious. “Right.” She didn’t push it though. Shrugging, she added, “If you say so.”

“I say so.” Her answer was weaker than she’d intended because Anthony had just turned to meet her gaze, giving her a hot, searing look she felt clear to her toes. Damn, but the man was fine.

“He’s coming this way.” Ellen sounded pleased and Gia wondered what her stake in the situation was, until she realized Clint was accompanying Anthony. Those two were so hot and heavy they practically reeked with pheromones.

Gia looked around for an escape route. She didn’t have much time to duck out, but she took the chance. And almost made it. She was entering the hall and reaching for the door handle when Anthony grabbed her elbow and spun her around.

“Running, Gia?”

Time for a little blunt honesty. “Yes.”

He blinked. She’d surprised him. It was hard to ignore the delicious little thrill of pleasure that gave her. One upping Anthony had become a favorite pastime over the months.

“Not before we talk, you aren’t.”

She rolled her eyes. God, he was bossy. “Talk then. I’m in a hurry.”

He tugged her elbow so she had to follow him down the hall to the office. She considered digging in her heels, refusing to be alone with him, but they were already garnering more attention than she liked. The rumors would be flying by midnight.

He didn’t let her go when they were inside. Kicking the door closed, he turned to face her. He was going to kiss her. She saw it in his eyes, all hot and dark and needy. Her body responded even though she ordered it not to. Damn traitor. She hastened to put some space between them before either could act on the impulse. He smiled as he stalked her around the desk.

“This really scares you, doesn’t it?”

Great. He was going right for the jugular. How had she got herself into this situation? Oh yeah. She’d fucked him. It was her own damned fault. That pissed her off almost as much as him accusing her of being afraid of him. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

“Listen, Anthony, there’s no reason at all to rehash what happened out there. I had an itch to scratch. You were available.” She shrugged. “End of story.”

Then why did her heart hurt when he didn’t argue with her? When his expression went blank the way it did when he was incredibly pissed off. Usually at her. Neither moved for several minutes. She felt his stare, but she focused on the wall behind him, refusing to meet his gaze or look at him.

“That’s an itch,” he finally spoke, “that no one else will be scratching for you. I’m a possessive man, baby. I don’t share what’s mine.”

She looked at him, hoped her expression was as heavy on the disbelief as she felt. God. Again with someone claiming she belonged to him. These werewolves still lived in the Middle Ages, and damn it, she would not be owned.

“I don’t belong to you, Anthony. I don’t belong to anyone.”

His smile was more cruel than kind. “You’re wrong about that, baby.”

She was spared answering when the door opened. Julian, looking grim, walked in with Sunny Nolan, one of their trackers who’d been on assignment and wasn’t dressed for the party. She must have finished early and come straight over. Carlos came in right behind them and softly shut the door.

“What’s up?” she asked Julian. That look didn’t bode well for anyone. He sat behind his desk and glanced over the earlier fax before nodding to Sunny to report. She didn’t speak, just handed Gia her small camera.

“Scroll through to the last ones.”

She did, and Jesus, the world tilted. If she’d needed a reminder why she shouldn’t get involved with Anthony here it was staring her in the face. Her father. Older. Weathered. But definitely him.

“Where?”

“In Gold Falls.” Of course. The town she’d grown up in, where she’d lost her mother to her father’s madness. She handed the camera back to Sunny.

“I’m sorry, Gia,” she said softly. Sunny was one of the only people who, outside of Julian, knew her history. Gia waved her off. She couldn’t handle any sympathy right now. She felt raw and exposed.

“I need a few minutes, Julian. Then we can decide what to do about this.”

He frowned. “You’re not going after this one, Gia.”

She made herself go cold, forced all those unwelcome emotions into a bottle and buried it deep. “Yes. I am.”

“Damn it, Gia.” He knew she wouldn’t be persuaded otherwise. “Anthony goes with you then. And one of his Hunters.”

She couldn’t ignore Anthony anymore and met his gaze. He was silent, but his confusion was there in his eyes. “The shot is mine.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Okay. But who? And why?”

She shook her head.