Hunter's Alpha (gxg) ✓

30. Granted

Hunter's fingers are firm against the sides of my neck, her tattoos flexing, and her mouth against mine is a sigh, an inhale.

"You make me lose control," she whispers.

Shivers race up my veins. Delight.

"Good," I say against her swollen lips.

Cloudy breaks the truce━and yes, I had a silent truce with a dog━once we leave the rooftop. His vicious barks nip at my ankles.

"Shut up," I hiss to the dog. Hunter has walked ahead, and her chestnut hair disappears into the crowd. Where is she going?

Cloudy whines in response.

I stand on my tiptoes, trying to see above the heads of the market.

Cloudy's teeth sink into my leg.

"Damn it!" I swear, shaking my ankle. "Get off me!"

A hesitant female voice says, "Mind if I help?"

But my eyes finally land on Hunter. She's . . . talking to someone.

"Um," I say, distracted. "Yeah. Sure."

A woman comes into a view. Young━maybe 23 or 24. Her gold eyes gleam, flaring with distress, and she crouches down next to my demon. Dog.

"How old is he?" she asks.

"Um, six months," I say, still looking over the crowd. Hunter is talking to a tall man in a business suit. A purple business suit. Odd, for a man with such terrifying tattoos.

What is she doing? Why didn't she say anything to me?

The man seems sharp, furious. He speaks quickly, his eyes piercing. But then the crowd shifts, and I lose focus.

Somehow, the woman manages to detach Cloudy from my leg.

"I'm Pierce," she says.

And I realize I know her.

"You━you're a model," I exclaim. "The one on the cover of that Tokyo magazine."

She laughs, and even that is beautiful. "Yes, I guess you could say that. I'm from Japan."

She is tall and slim, her elegant body dressed in flowing black silk. Her ink hair is done up high, and her uptilted eyes are lined with gold to match her irises. Her full mouth purses, and I am suddenly astonished by the fact that I'm talking to a Japanese model.

"Um, wow," I say, forgetting briefly about Hunter. "What are you doing here?"

Her golden eyes flash. "Oh, just business."

Business . . . Maybe I'm crazy, but it sounds like a double meaning.

"Thanks anyway," I say, gesturing to the drooling fluffy white monster.

"Oh, no problem," she says. "I'm kind of a dog whisperer."

Why am I suddenly having trouble speaking? My tongue feels useless in my mouth, but I manage to get out, "Um, that's cool."