Releasing the Hunter

Chapter 12

Ronan blinked into the morning light casting from his bedroom window. He sat up in bed and slowly swung his legs over the side. He glanced over his shoulder at Ivy’s sleeping form to make sure he hadn’t woken her. Her eyes were still closed, her hands tucked up under her chin. He watched her chest. Her breathing was slow and steady. Relief flooded him that she still slept.

After their sex bout in the bathroom, Ronan had picked her up and brought her into the bedroom. He’d laid her down, snuggled in behind her, pulled the covers over them and held her tight until she fell asleep. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other. He supposed they hadn’t needed to. What was there to say?

The sex had been therapeutic for them both. It had provided an avenue for Ivy to escape and a way for Ronan to offer her sympathy. He still felt like a heel for taking advantage of her anguish, but it couldn’t be helped. There had been no way in hell he could’ve walked away from her.

It might not have been the smartest thing for either of them to do, considering their circumstances and positions, but sometimes what’s smart and what’s needed are two entirely different things.

He reached for a pair of sweatpants and pulled them on. Once dressed, he left the bedroom, quietly shut the door behind him and padded into the living room. His stomach rumbled. He was starving. He hadn’t gotten around to ordering any food last night.

He went to the refrigerator and opened it. Inside it was nearly empty. He managed to find an apple, a chunk of cheese and a can of soda. He cut the apple, leaving half for Ivy, and then wolfed it down with half the cheese block and a few healthy sips of soda.

Chewing, he sank onto the sofa and thought about what a mess he was in and how the hell he could get out of it. He suspected when Ivy found out the true nature of his mission, she wouldn’t be forgiving.

He had to tell her, ’fess up before she found out on her own. When he’d agreed to his mission, he hadn’t foreseen developing feelings for the ice-queen hunter. But he had. In spades.

So he’d finish his apple, then go in and wake her up to tell her the real reason he’d shown up in the back alley of that club to accidentally bump into one of the most infamous demon hunters around.

But he didn’t get a chance before there was a knock on his front door.

He usually didn’t get visitors. He didn’t know his neighbors and he didn’t have any friends—at least none who would make social visits.

Cautiously, he made his way to the door. He peered through the peephole. The hallway beyond his door was empty. That didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Another knock came, harder this time. Louder.

Ronan glanced over his shoulder to his closed bedroom door, hoping the noise hadn’t woken Ivy.

“Open up, Ronan, or I’ll break it down,” came a snooty cultured voice. A voice he unfortunately knew all too well.

Sighing heavily, he unhooked the chain, threw the bolt and pulled open the door.

Reginald Watson, one of the most powerful sorcerers in San Francisco, waltzed into his apartment, his gaze darting all around, his nose in the air.

“What do you want?” Ronan asked.

“To make sure you’re still doing your job.”

“You could’ve used the phone, Reggie.”

The sorcerer winced at Ronan’s shortened use of his name. He sniffed. “I have been. You’ve been ignoring my calls.”

“I know my job. You don’t need to be looking over my shoulder. That wasn’t part of our deal.”

“What is part of your deal?”

Ronan cursed under his breath, then swung around to see Ivy leaning on the wall in the corridor. She had on one of his T-shirts; the hem skimmed her midthigh.

Reginald looked at Ronan and grinned. It was a smile that said, “You’ve been caught.”

“When I told you to hook up with Ivy Strom, I didn’t realize you had this in mind.”

Ronan turned and launched at Reginald, but the sorcerer had anticipated the attack. He threw up a protective shield in front of him with his magic. Ronan bounced off the hard purple defense shield like a rubber ball against cement.

“Don’t get all bent out of shape, Ronan. You wouldn’t want me to change our arrangement, would you? Out of a case of bad judgment on your part.”

Ivy strode into the room, her hands balled into fists as her side. “Someone better tell me what the fuck is going on before I lose it.”

Ronan picked himself off the floor and slumped onto the sofa. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, and then looked at her. “The Crimson Hall Cabal is paying me to help you find your brother.”

“Why? What do they want him for?”

Reginald cleared his throat, as if he was auditioning for a play and not destroying Ronan’s morning. “Quinn is in possession of something very important. An item the cabal desires.”

“What?”

“A key.”

Ivy glared at the sorcerer. “Look, dickwad, I don’t know who you are and I really don’t care, but quit jerking me around and tell me the whole deal.”

Ronan tracked her gaze and he could see the fury and the pain there. He couldn’t save her from it. “The key opens a chest that supposedly contains the grimoire from which King Solomon conjured his seventy-two demons to do his bidding.”

She cocked one eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“And you’re getting paid to do this? How much are they paying you to screw me?”

He dropped his gaze and looked at the floor. “Enough.” He didn’t want to tell her what he was really doing it for. Let her think the worst of him. It would be easier that way.

“Oh, don’t be so hard on him, my dear. He’s just doing what he’s always done. Survive. It’s really what we all are doing, don’t you think?”

She glared at Reginald. Ronan could see something glinting from her cupped hand. He was up off the sofa and grabbing her arm before she could cross the room and bury the hidden blade into the sorcerer’s chest.

She tried to struggle out of his hold, but he used his demon strength to keep her still. “Don’t be foolish. Killing him would only bring the cabal down on your head.”

“I wasn’t going to kill him. Just hurt him a little.”

Reginald chuckled. “I can see why you’re smitten, Ronan. She’s charming.” The sorcerer made his way back to the door. “Well, I should be off. Thanks for the visit, Ronan. It’s a pleasure, as always.” He opened the door, and stepped out, then paused. “Oh, and please start answering your phone. I really don’t want to come back here.” He slammed the door shut.

When he was gone, Ronan let Ivy go. She moved away from him, but didn’t make any move to disarm herself. He imagined that she thought of sliding that knife into him.

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” he said.

“Were you planning on telling me you’re using me to get to my brother and steal this key from him?”

He looked at her for a long moment, cautious with his next words. “Not at first.”

She turned on her heel and headed back to the bedroom, most likely with the intention of getting dressed and getting the hell out of his apartment. He couldn’t let her go, and not just because he needed to find Quinn.

Ronan chased after her. “But I was planning to before Reggie showed up. Things have changed between us, and I wanted to be truthful. Before you were just a job, but now...”

She swung around and poked him in the chest with the hilt of her blade. “Now, what? Now, we’re in love?” The sarcasm dripped from her voice like venom from a snake’s fang. “We had sex, Ronan. That’s it. Mindless, thoughtless sex. I had an itch and you scratched it.” She lowered the knife. “So thanks for that.”

He never thought another human being could hurt him again. But he was wrong. Ivy’s words sliced him to the bone.

Nodding, he took a step back from her. “Right. Great. You’re welcome. So shall we continue this arrangement, or do you want to bail?”

Her eyes widened. He suspected she thought he would say something different, respond to her icy demeanor with maybe pleas for forgiveness, but that’s not how he played. He didn’t supplicate anyone.

“I’m not bailing.”

“Fine. Then we’ll reconvene in the living room once you get dressed and get your moods under control. Then we’ll work on finding your brother.” With that, he turned and walked out of the bedroom, leaving her gaping at him like a fish.

Appalled, Ivy watched him leave the room. She itched to chase after him and tell him what he could do with that last statement. But she knew if she did she might do something she would regret later. She was feeling sore and hurtful and she wanted to lash out at Ronan.

He’d hurt her in more ways than one. In ways she didn’t even realize she could feel pain. Quinn had been right. She couldn’t trust any other man in her life. She was way better off alone.

The sex had been cathartic for her, though. She’d needed to feel something other than the confusion and hurt that pounded in her head and heart. She took Ronan’s presence in the bathroom as an offering to help her ease her pain. Instinctively he had known she wouldn’t have accepted kind words and a gentle hug. She needed physical contact with someone. She’d wanted it from Ronan.

She couldn’t deny it had been fierce and passionate and explosive. Even now she could feel his flesh in her hands and between her thighs. Her gut clenched at the thought of having sex with him again. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man. And even longer since she’d had any romantic feelings for one.

She was the love-’em-and-leave-’em type. She didn’t have room in her life for anyone. She couldn’t worry about someone else’s welfare. She had to look after herself, physically, mentally and spiritually. She needed to be fully intact to do the job she did. Having feelings for someone just opened up those avenues. Avenues where pain could sneak through and attack. She had enough creatures attacking her on a daily basis; she didn’t need her own thoughts and feelings doing the same.

She grabbed her bag, zipped it open and took out a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. As she dressed, she thought about how angry she was at Ronan for lying to her, for keeping his true motives a secret. But truth be told, it really didn’t change anything. Not in the big picture. He wanted to help her find Quinn. That hadn’t changed. He had resources she didn’t have access to. That hadn’t changed. So what was the real issue here?

And why did it still sting right in the middle of her chest?

She finished dressing, determined not to show any more emotion. Her dad had been the one to drill it into her head about the weakness of showing emotions. They slowed a person down. Sometimes even stopping them from doing what needed to be done.

She wouldn’t let that happen. Her goal was to find Quinn, and nothing from this moment forward was going to stop her from doing that. No matter what came her way, she would keep her resolve and do what was required. Even if that meant leaving Ronan behind.