Hunter's Alpha (gxg) ✓

8. Her

Have you ever seen that documentary in biology class? You know, the one about predator and prey. The way a lion becomes silent, tense, in the moment before it strikes. The way a cheetah will prowl forward, eyes dark and slitted.

The way a wolf watches the lamb, hunger written in the sleek shape of its mouth, lined in the coil of energy that bunches its shoulders.

This is what Hunter looks like now. Her smile is sweet and cold as she watches the man who just kissed me. There is no fear in the way she watches him―someone who is easily three times her size, someone who hasn't yet registered her.

My fingers linger on my lips. They feel raw. Swollen.

What was that for?

His eyes haven't left my face yet. But I can feel Hunter's presence behind me, the energy that radiates from her. The music is lower, a slow song, and people shift away from us as though we're poisonous.

No―they aren't shifting away from me and the boy.

They're angling away from Hunter.

Again, this feels me with frustration. Why is everyone so afraid of her? The receptionist, the muscled man on the elevator . . . and the people here, who seem as though they don't want to be close to her. The same way the lamb will hide from the wolf. Futile, maybe―but a preservation instinct.

A preservation instinct. Is that what it is?

It doesn't make sense, until I stumble away from the man and his eyes slide away from my face. To where Hunter is standing.

Again, I see it: the instant realization. The knife, cutting through his expression. The fear that begins to bleed from every ounce of his body.

This girl, who offered to bandage me, who cleaned my scrapes, who saved me from an evil little dog―there's something off here. She promised to show me to the Wolves, but here she is, in their supposed territory―and they're all afraid of her.

Is she really the bystander I thought she was?

"I―is she―" The man seems almost afraid to say it. His dark, handsome features have twisted into something like terror, no matter how he tries to hide it.

"She's with me," says Hunter, and it's almost casual. If it weren't for the glint of a gun I can see at her waist.

Holy shit.

"Okay―yeah, I―" He swallows. He moves back, farther into the crowd, as though hoping if he loses himself in it, Hunter will forget about him. "Yeah, I'm just―I'll―"

Hunter doesn't let him. Faster than I can blink, her hand is crumpling the front of his shirt.

Her head nods my way. "Apologize to Jude."

He is trembling as he looks at me. "I'm sorry, Jude."

Outrage floods into me, sizzling in my blood like embers. I can fight my own damn fights. I don't need anyone to threaten people for me―I can do it myself, thank you very much.

Instead of accepting his apology, I walk forward and curl my fist―aiming for a punch that will leave a nasty bruise. His head cracks back.