Two Hunters, from different worlds.

Chapter 12

I stood in front of the police facility, barely able to believe my eyes.

Race had been right. The gates were packed with people waiting for Roy to emerge—some there to jeer, others out of morbid curiosity, and some, like me, hungry for a word, a story, anything to put our names on the front page.

At our last meeting, Race had told me about his new job. He hadn't gone into detail, only that he had a new "boss" and had been assigned as Roy’s bodyguard. Apparently, there wasn’t enough evidence to keep the veteran behind bars, and the recent killings had occurred while he was locked up.

Something about this whole situation felt off, but I couldn't help feeling relieved for Roy’s freedom—and for Race’s promotion. Now, like everyone else in this crowd, I just wanted to see Roy’s face. Race had promised me that once things settled, I could interview him tomorrow. I had too many questions, too many gaps that needed filling. I needed to know what had happened in that forest when Roy was still a sergeant.

Time passed. It was already past ten, and the crowd was growing restless. I had managed to push my way to the front row, fighting for the best angle for my shots.

Moments later, a group of four men arrived, shielding someone between them. The police pushed us back to clear a path for the car, but before they could shove him inside, I saw him.

Hooded, yet exposed just enough.

His skin was pale, his face bruised, dark circles heavy under his brown eyes. He looked like he had barely survived his time in prison. But what struck me most was the emptiness in his gaze—hollow, unfocused, lost. He didn’t react to the crowd shouting at him, didn’t acknowledge their accusations. He just followed orders, walking like a ghost among the living.

I felt an unexpected pang of sadness for him.

But this was only half the battle. Now, I needed to understand why he had been locked up—and what had really happened in that forest.

Before he disappeared into the car, I snapped a few last photos. They captured a man whose dignity and freedom had been stripped away—only to be casually handed back, as if none of it had mattered. It infuriated me. First, they imprisoned him without evidence, beat him, kept him hidden from the world—and now, just like that, they were letting him go. No apologies, no explanations.

The state would need a new scapegoat soon. Someone else to break.

I had a feeling Race knew more than he was letting on.

On my way home, my phone buzzed. A message from Race.

Everything’s fine. Roy is back at the house where you interviewed his wife. You can come by tomorrow afternoon—he’ll be alone with me.

Perfect.

At home, I took a long, hot shower, then curled up on the couch with the TV on, a glass of alcohol in one hand, and a notebook in the other. I jotted down questions for Roy, unsure if he’d even want to answer them.

Hours passed.

Then, I felt it.

A presence at my balcony.

Even before I saw him, I knew it was him.

Step by step, he moved closer, his form still shrouded in that eerie invisibility. And then—armor pieces clattered to the floor, revealing his body bit by bit, until finally, he stood before me, fully exposed.

Majestic.

I had never truly taken the time to look at him before. The sheer perfection of his sculpted body. Even his neck looked powerful, as if molded for war. My gaze drifted lower—to his hips, to his throbbing, erect member, glistening at the tip.

A rush of heat surged through me.

My mind spun with filthy thoughts—images of his cock in my mouth, of him gripping my hair and fucking my throat until I had no choice but to swallow everything he gave me.

A slow, seductive smile curled my lips.

"Vor… do you want to stand there and be admired, or do you want to be satisfied?"

I didn’t wait for his answer.

Deliberately, I began undressing, sliding off one strap at a time, teasing, letting the fabric slip from my shoulders. My shorts followed, peeled away slowly, until I sat naked on the couch, legs spread, inviting him to see everything I had to offer.

His eyes darkened.

The gold in them flared, then shifted—burning red, primal, hungry. His breathing deepened, rough and heavy, his jaws parting slightly as he scented the air.

"If you want something from me, just say it, Vor."

I arched my hips, exposing myself even more, slipping my fingers between my folds, teasing. My other hand traveled up to my breasts, pinching, stroking, showing him exactly what he was missing.

His growl rumbled through the air, deep and possessive.

"I will come to you, but you will be submissive. No games, my mate." His voice was rough, vibrating with dominance. "Now—off the couch. Get on your knees."

A shiver ran down my spine.

Excitement pooled between my thighs, heat curling in my belly. His command thrilled me, sent a sharp jolt of arousal through me.

I obeyed without hesitation, sliding off the sofa, kneeling before him, waiting—eager for his next move.

"Your mouth…" He stepped closer, towering over me, his thick cock inches from my lips. "It’s not just for filling the air with noise."

His fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking himself as he looked down at me with burning intensity.

"We can put it to better use, mate. And you will swallow every drop I give you."

His words dripped with authority, raw and unfiltered. My body clenched in response, heat flooding every inch of me.

"I will enjoy your body to the fullest. Every inch. Every offering. And you… you will satisfy my hunger. But don’t think my stamina is anywhere near human."

His other hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back just enough to force my eyes on his. His grip was firm, possessive.

"When you reach your limit… when you beg me to stop… I want to hear my name spill from your lips. Again and again."

My breath hitched.

Damn. I was already soaking wet for this alien bastard.

I hadn’t even touched him yet, and he already had me on my knees, panting, desperate.

I licked my lips, tilting my head, my voice a sultry whisper.

"Oh, Vor… The only one begging tonight will be you."