Twilight Hunter

CHAPTER TWELVE

AFTER THIRTY-SIX HOURS of hanging around outside K9’s in the hopes of running into Allsún, David changed his tactics. Sure, he’d also been waiting to see if Jace would finally manage to shift, but every waking spare moment had been spent thinking about her.

Now David stood outside the steps to the Temple Building apartments and sighed. He’d taken a major risk coming here. Allsún wouldn’t exactly welcome him with open arms. Wheedling her home address out of Frankie had been for Execution Underground purposes, or at least that was what he’d told her—and himself. But he knew his motives had been purely personal. After five years of missing her, he just couldn’t let her go again so easily.

He lingered outside her building, thinking this was probably one of his dumbest ideas yet.

He climbed slowly up the steps, glad his new walking cast meant he didn’t need crutches anymore. His finger hovered over the call buzzer. A tight feeling squeezed his lungs. He wasn’t sure he could handle it if—or when, most likely—she told him to get lost. With a deep breath, he sucked up his feelings and pushed the button.

He waited for her voice to come over the intercom. Nothing. He pushed the button again. Still nothing. He pressed the buzzer several more times, but there was no response. She had to be there, because he’d been watching so long that he would have seen her if she’d gone out. Could she see him from her apartment and just wasn’t answering? Looking up, he examined the windows. Not a single set of blinds or curtains open. He checked his watch. Almost midnight. She must have left and he’d just missed her. Defeated, he turned to leave just as the front door creaked open.

A man poked his head out. “Can I help you?”

David assessed him. He looked like he belonged on a magazine cover, the kind of guy who couldn’t walk past a mirror without admiring his own reflection.

“Yeah, I’m looking for Allsún O’Hare. She might go by Allie.”

The man nodded. “Oh, yeah. Cute little thing, mop of curly hair? Apartment 209.”

A slight surge of protectiveness pulsed through David. If he hadn’t been sure this guy swung the other way, he might have been pissed. “That’s her.”

The man looked thoughtful. “You know, come to think of it, I haven’t seen her since yesterday, actually. I’m the super here, by the way. Victor.” He stuck out his hand.

David shook his hand but didn’t introduce himself. “Nice to meet you. Look, is there any way I could get up to her apartment? Just in case she’s there and the buzzer is broken.”

“The buzzer’s not broken. I heard you because I have a master receiver and it buzzed in my room. Usually I don’t allow nonresidents to come in without being buzzed up.” He eyed David up and down, and grinned. “But since I haven’t seen her, I think it would be good to check on her. Come on up.”

David ignored the super’s flirtatious look and followed him up the stairs. After two flights, they stopped outside door 209.

Victor knocked on the door. “Allsún, it’s Victor. There’s someone here to see you.” He paused. Nothing but silence answered back. “Allsún, are you all right? Are you in there?” He knocked again.

“Can we go inside?” David asked.

Victor shrugged. “I guess.” He reached to his belt and removed a large set of keys, then sorted through them until he found one marked 209. He slowly opened the door and stuck his head inside. “Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh.”

He stumbled back. David’s heart stopped beating. He threw open the door and burst inside, gun drawn. “Holy hell.”

The apartment had been ransacked. The desk had been overturned, scattering office supplies across the floor, and books had been thrown in every direction when the bookcase had been knocked over. Someone had ripped the sheets to shreds. The words Come and get her, Frankie were painted in crimson across the wall. The smell of blood permeated the studio apartment. David let out a strained cry and tore out of the room and past the rattled super as quickly as he could with his injured leg.

“Where are you going? I need to call the cops!” Victor yelled after him.

David ignored him and did his best to hurry down the stairs and out to the street, where he threw himself into his Escalade and sped away. Damn, he needed his motorcycle back.

FRANKIE LET OUT a long sigh. Thirty-six hours. Thirty-six long, drawn-out hours, and Jace still wasn’t any closer to shifting than when he’d first started. They’d spent night and day standing in the middle of K9’s, trying every possible approach she could come up with, but with no success. Thirty-six never-ending hours, and still nothing.

“This is bullshit,” Jace growled.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “The more frustrated you get, the less this is going to work.” As much as she wanted him to lose his anger and cut the attitude, she couldn’t blame him. Even she was starting to get tired of the ordeal, and she wasn’t even the one trying to shift.

“It’s not working to begin with. How can it possibly be any worse?”

She fought back a scream. If she had to hear one more complaint, she was going to rip her hair out by the roots, followed by Jace’s.

Marching straight up to him, she placed her hands on her hips. No way was she listening to any more whining. “Jace McCannon, you listen to me—now. It normally takes weeks to learn this, but you only have a matter of days, and we’ve already used up over twenty-four hours. I suggest you suck up your frustrations and shift.” She felt her teeth grind together as she battled back her impatience.

He frowned. “You really know how to put a guy in his place, don’t you?”

She poked him hard in the chest. “I’m packmaster, and you’re a temporary member of this pack. It’s my job to kick you into shape. Now shift.”

Jace let out a low growl. “Fine.” He dropped into his lowered stance.

She stepped back to the edge of the platform. He needed to do this. They couldn’t waste any more time. “Use your anger and frustration, Jace, but exercise control. You’re in charge of your emotions. Push your anger inside you. Push it to the place you feel stirring when the moon is full. Concentrate.”

Jace’s muscles strained, his irises taking on the intense fire they possessed every time he urged his body to change. She circled behind him, watching his every move. She had to make sure he was focused.

He growled. “Why can’t I do this?”

“You’re not focusing.” She walked in front of him. “Jace, you need to focus.”

He clenched his fists and glared at her.

She sighed. “Think about the victims. If you don’t shift soon, more innocent women will die.”

He crouched farther down. “I will not have their blood on my hands.”

She watched as all the muscles in his body strained. His loud cry reverberated off the walls. Beads of sweat ran down his face, and she could see the anger flowing through him from his head all the way to his...fingertips?

He let out an exasperated grunt. Her eyes widened.

“Jace!” she yelled. His hands were beginning to transition. “Don’t stop.”

Ignoring her, he straightened to his full height and snapped, “More people will die, all because I can’t fucking shift.”

“Jace, look at your hands.” Frankie grabbed hold of one wrist and shoved it toward his face.

The air around his fingers and palm vibrated as if it were bending to his will. A slight layer of hair sprouted over his knuckles, before it quickly disappeared.

He met Frankie’s eyes. “Holy shit. Well, that’s progress, at least.”

She smiled, and her grin stretched from ear to ear. Relief filled her. A few more tries and he might be able to do it. But she had to pace him. If he wore himself out, it would never happen, and his frustration was already about to skyrocket.

She cleared her throat. “You can do this. But for now, take a break.”

Jace’s hands fell to his sides. “Thank God.” He walked to the edge of the platform and grabbed a bottle of water. He turned away and chugged the bottle. When he was finished, she watched as he recapped it, then patted his pockets. “Damn it. I left my smokes in my coat. Gotta run to the car.” He set the bottle down and jogged out of the room.

Once he left, she allowed her mind a moment of peace. It had been too long since she’d danced. One hour of the familiar salsa movements and she would feel refreshed. Without thought, she moved her hips in a sensual rhythm, dancing with the confidence that no one was watching her while she daydreamed.

She spun around in a controlled twirl, then stopped mid-spin. Jace was standing on the other side of the platform, his gaze locked onto her. Her eyes widened, and heat burned across her face as she blushed. “Sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to dance, so I couldn’t help myself.”

He shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I was enjoying watching you.”

The blush on her cheeks deepened, and the heat spread to the lower parts of her body, radiating all the way to her core. She stared down at the platform. With one look, he could make all her resolve melt. She bit her lower lip and tried push away the thought of him sheathing himself inside her. If only she could be with him one more time. But one more time would never be enough. She would always want more.

She fought not to cringe as she thought of their sex-capade in Shane’s apartment. Damn it. She should have found a way to tell him that she’d choked on her words. She’d wanted to tell him not to leave, that she wanted him, but she’d screwed up royally in so many ways. He resented her for numerous reasons now: lying to him, the debacle at Shane’s apartment, not to mention the situation with Alejandro. It was no wonder he’d been so cold, so angry, with her. As frustrating as he could be, how could she not forgive his stupid behavior when her own actions were the cause?

She scrambled to change subjects. “I usually have a partner to dance with.” She sighed. “Alejan—” She started to say Alejandro’s name but caught herself. “Salsa just isn’t as much fun without a partner.”

A smug smile spread across his face. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. I’ll dance with you.”

Her head shot up, and she met his eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I can take a hint when I hear one. You want to dance with me,” he said, and winked.

She placed her hands on her hips. “Quit teasing me. I wasn’t asking you to dance, and you know it.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know. But why not give it a try anyway?”

She eyed him up and down with a skeptical expression. “You really want to?”

He shrugged and stepped toward her. “Why the hell not? It beats standing here trying to shift and looking like a moron while I’m doing it.”

She paused for a moment. He was right. Why not?

Because it would make her want him again. Because her body would kick into overdrive despite the protests from her brain. Because he would undoubtedly push her away afterward. On the other hand, dancing would help take his mind off his frustration, and that might help him learn to shift more quickly. Before she could change her mind, she walked over and stopped in front of him, staring up into his face.

“Give me your hands,” she said.

He placed his palms in hers, and his touch sent a familiar electric shock pulsing through her body. Every nerve inside her stood on edge. Without prompting, he pulled her close until she was flush against his body. His warmth flooded over her skin, and it took every ounce of self-control she had not to kiss him right there, to ask him to make love to her in the middle of the club. She hated the way her body responded to him so readily.

Focus, Frankie. Stop staring and focus.

“The man normally leads in salsa, but for now, just let me lead you.” She glanced at him again. It was so hard to look away when she was so close. A deep longing burned in her chest as he returned her gaze.

“Step back. Now forward. Now back, and extend your left foot.”

With extreme gentleness, he cradled her in his arms. He was a natural lead, and not even Alejandro’s trained touch could rival how sweetly he held her. His movements were surprisingly polished and smooth. Nothing like the gruff man she knew him to be every time he opened his mouth. He was tender with her now, as he’d been in those rare moments when they were intimate or at those chance times when she’d caught him staring at her.

She bit her lower lip. Dredging up those horrible moments in Shane’s apartment would do her no good. Still, for a brief second she opened her mouth, willing to let her words flow freely, but she quickly snapped her jaw shut. As much as she wanted to tell him the truth, there was no point. Knowing her luck, it would only make things worse.

His hand slid onto her lower back with care, pulling her from her thoughts.

Shit. She didn’t want him to let go. There was no doubt about it—her body wanted him, needed him as badly as she needed air, water, food. And some part of her heart did, too.

But he didn’t want her.

He doesn’t want me.

She looked away and repeated the mantra in her head. He’d flat out told her he didn’t want her, but apparently her libido and, especially, her heart needed more convincing. She would look like a damn fool if she said anything to try to change his mind.

A small grin spread across his lips. “You know...I hate to admit it, but this isn’t so bad.”

She looked up to find him staring down at her, and it seemed as if a fire ignited behind his eyes.

“Especially not when it’s with you.”

His steps slowed, and for several long moments they lingered a hairsbreadth away from moving closer. His intense emerald gaze locked on hers. Handling their situation just wasn’t possible. She couldn’t let this continue.

She pulled away from him. “We should get back to shifting.”

She turned away and folded her arms over her chest, as she tried to hold herself together. If she didn’t stop now, she wouldn’t be able to control herself; she would want him too much to resist. Having him so close but being unable to have him was pure torture. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could take it.

“I’VE NEVER TORTURED a member of the Fae before, though I’m very excited to play with these iron weapons. It’s fun to experiment.” Robert examined the hot iron poker. “I think this needs more heat, don’t you agree?” He placed the poker tip back into the inferno he’d built. “I’ll get this all warmed up for you.”

The glowing orange metal pulsated in the dim light of the warehouse. The pathetic woman closed her eyelids.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded.

He towered over her as she lay chained to the warehouse floor. The iron shackles around her wrists and ankles slowly peeled away her skin as she shied away from their scalding touch. Oh, how sweet this torture session had been. One of his best yet.

“Now tell me, what is a faerie doing with a pack of werewolves?”

She bit her lower lip.

“I said, what are you doing with the werewolves?”

When she still didn’t respond, he carefully nestled the poker against the sensitive skin of her stomach. She writhed as the iron burned another bloody hole into her flesh. The sounds of her screams echoed off the warehouse walls. He savored the sight of the hot iron eating away at her body, the skin peeling back in wavy curls.

He let out a low, feral growl. “Answer my question.”

Gasping for air, she stammered to reply. “I’m just an affiliate. I’m the only faerie in the area, so Frankie let me join the pack to be around other supernaturals.”

A devilish grin spread across his face as he twirled the poker in his hands. “That’s better.”

She gritted her teeth and stared at the weapon, shivering. Her terror got him off. He let the blazing iron linger over her, promising repeated pain if she didn’t cooperate.

He reexamined the tip of the poker. A small piece of burned flesh remained. Perfect. This was coming along nicely. He stoked the fire. “So you know Frankie personally, yet she hasn’t come after you?”

Despite the shackles holding her in place, her hands clenched into fists. He grinned. He would make sure every ounce of fight she had in her was gone before he was through with her.

“Over twenty-four hours, yet she still isn’t here. You must not be very important to her.”

“You’re lucky Frankie isn’t here. She’d rip you to pieces.”

He smiled. “I beg to differ. The last time the bitch and I met, I gave her a lovely beating.”

“You’re a sick freak.”

He ignored her comment as he fiddled with the poker, admiring the glowing end as if it were a rare piece of art. “I guess she hasn’t gotten my message. Perhaps I’ll have to go with a more direct route. If Frankie won’t come for you, I may have to bring her here myself.”

Robert set down the poker and walked toward the exit.

“What do you want with her anyway?” she yelled.

As he reached the door, he turned and grinned. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m not after your packmaster.” He pushed open the exit door. “I want the hunter who’s protecting her.”

DAVID CHARGED THROUGH the doors of K9’s, ignoring the pain in his leg as his heart pounded in his chest. Despite the cold, sweat poured down his back from the heat of his rage.

Frankie was standing on the platform in the middle of the room, Jace crouching beside her like he was some sort of animal.

“What the hell did you do?” David demanded as he reached the edge of the stage.

Jace looked toward him. “David, what’s up? Are—”

David turned on Frankie as he fought for control. “What did you do? Where is she?”

Jace stood and grabbed David’s shoulder. “Whoa, David. Back off. Where’s who?”

David snarled, a noise that seemed far too animal to belong to him. “Maybe you’d know if you answered your phone. Allsún’s missing, and it’s your fucking fault.” He jabbed a finger at Frankie.

Her eyes widened. “Allsún O’Hare?”

David glared. The anger coursing through him was white-hot. He would murder that bastard Robert. He would tear him limb from limb. He would gouge out Robert’s eyes with his thumbs for even looking at her.

“What happened?” Frankie’s jaw fell open.

“That’s what I want to know.” David stepped toward her. “Why was there a message to you on the wall of her demolished apartment—written in blood?”

All the color drained from Frankie’s face until her skin looked ashen. “I don’t know where she is, David. I had nothing to do with this.”

“I swear, if I find out you caused this, I’ll force you to shift and then skin you for your—”

“David!” Jace grabbed him by the front of his jacket. “Frankie’s been with me the whole time. She didn’t do this. It’s Robert, and you know it. It’s Robert, man. It’s not Frankie’s fault.”

David panted hard, each breath so heavy it strained the leather of his jacket.

“We’ll get her back, David,” Jace promised.

“I’ll call Alejandro. I’ll have him gather the pack. We need to select who’ll go after her—our best fighters. And we’ll need to find out where she’s been taken,” Frankie said. She met David’s eyes. “We will find her, David. Faerie or not, she’s been one of us for a long time.”

“I will not wait around while you decide who is going to save her,” David growled, turning his anger on Jace. He stared down into his fellow hunter’s face. “If it wasn’t for you and your damn werewolf shit, I could go save her myself. But now look at me!” he yelled. “Between my fucking leg and the fact that Damon’s marked us both as traitors, I can’t even fucking save the woman I love, all because I had to try and help your sorry ass.”

If Jace were angry, he didn’t show it. He stepped back, though he clearly wasn’t intimidated. “I know. I shouldn’t have drawn anyone else into this, and I never should have let you fight my battles for me. It’s my fault your leg is fucked to hell and back, and I’d take it back if I could, but I can’t. I promise you I will save her, David. I swear it.” He met David’s gaze head on.

David snarled. “That’s not good enough. We have to do something now. Whether you like it or not, I will not sit around while he has her.”

He turned his back on Jace and began to walk away.

“David, if you go after her now, you’ll get her killed,” Jace said.

David stopped in his tracks but didn’t look over his shoulder. He heard Jace step toward him.

“If you go in there injured like you are, you’re both going to be killed, and how will that solve anything?”

David’s whole body trembled as he fought down the rage growing inside his chest.

Jace placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I swear to you on my life, I’ll get her back. But you know we can’t go out unprepared.”

David’s hands clenched into fists. Jace was right, and he knew it, but his anger refused to subside. He should have been able to save her. He should have been able to track that fucker down right now, and murder him slowly and painfully. A loud, angry scream sounded in the air, and it took David several seconds to realize it was his own.