Hooked [Complete]

49. Training

Author's Note: Time for Cernunnos to get to know his huntsmen!

Song for this Chapter: Heaven on Hold by Bryce Fox. Everyone is beginning to feel the tension, I think....

Dru steadied the stock of the crossbow against her left shoulder and braced the bow along her left arm. She peered down the scope. The bullseye was fixed steadily in the site.

"I love how you hold that bow like you've done this before," Hearne growled in her ear from behind. "Spread your stance, it will help steady your aim," He rotated her hips and pressed her left leg a little forward with his long thigh. Then he stepped back. "Show me how you shoot, baby," he whispered.

She pressed the safety forward like he taught her, took aim, and squeezed the release mechanism.

She hit the bullseye and the group of men behind her crowed in approval. Hearne made a sound of deep satisfaction and strolled away.

"Let her go again," he commanded to no one in particular, to all of them, leaving it to the men to instruct her as he joined the pagan class at the lower end of the range.

"You're a natural," Martin Buchanan noted as he handed Dru another bolt, and guided her in loading it.

"Heck, yeah she is. Dru, you can be my partner at the hunt, if you want." Tyler Bratcher said.

Tyler was a Mystic Mountainer, in his mid-twenties, who worked for Martin and his partner running the sales and marketing for the small shine distillery. Tyler, like the other Mystic Mountain men and the pagan class, were becoming regular fixtures at camp, training for the hunt, and helping get the cabins ready for the high dollar contributors already registered for the fundraiser. This was a typical Saturday at Hearne's camp now—a packful of jovial followers.

Tyler was more than jovial, however. He was also a very handsome guy...tall, strong-jawed, and powerfully built. He reminded her of Sean, but lighter in looks, stronger in Southern accent, and much cockier in attitude.

Damn, was it the magic, or something in the spring water that grew these Mystic Mountain boys so good? Even Leander was looking very handsome lately. Maybe it was Cernunnos, lending his men some confidence or energy that made them so attractive.

There was one follower who had changed more than the rest though. Sean. He looked every inch of the sexwitch he was now—a chin length mop of dark hair that looked perfectly messy, a permanent sexy stubble, lips always barely parted, like they wanted to be sucking something naughty—a pipe, perhaps some part of Carrie's body—and a constant hazy look of come-fuck-me in his eyes. Or maybe the hazy look in his eyes was the weed. Either way, he looked incredible all the time.

Dru shot a casual glance over to him. The class had gathered around to watch him shoot a series of miniscule targets with a traditional compound bow. He certainly looked like a god already, or maybe a superhero, his legs spread confidently, his posture perfect, as he pulled the arrows from his quiver quickly, shooting in rapid series, obliterating the beer cans and apples Leander had set up.

Reese and Isabel were watching him. Reese was twirling her hair. Isabel was biting her lip. Hell, even Susan was watching him with a speculative expression, much to Grace's displeasure. Lana was rolling her eyes and nudging Grace, making a gagging face behind Sean's back.

Sean wasn't aware of any of the female interest. He was intent on his task. He went ten for ten—four more targets than anyone else had made in a fraction of the time.

"Fucking boy scout." Hearne said, and clapped him on the back.

The class laughed as Sean stepped back and gestured for Lana and Susan to step up to the shooting line while he reset the targets.