Hunting Light: Hunter her Lovers (Demon Hunter Book 2) Read online

  Copyright © 2019 by Savannah Rose and Amelia Gates

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  STAY IN TOUCH

  Prologue

  Lucifer’s touch. His kiss. They set me on fire. But it’s what he does to my soul that threatens to rip me to threads.

  He brings his lips down the side of my neck. His movements are slow at first, careful even. But it’s not long before he’s picked up his pace. Now, his actions are rampant, filled with so much need that I know better than to deny him. Pulling back, I give him better access to my neck. My common sense shatters into nothingness and, as though I’m nothing more than a mortal I also let go of my sense of control.

  Here I lie with the King of Demons.

  The most hated.

  The most feared.

  The devil of all devils.

  Lucifer.

  His touch is electric, his kisses explosive. The way he makes me feel, the way my body reacts to his touch, should be criminal, a sin in every way shape and form. His fingers dance to the rhythm of my heart, toying with my nipples, teasing their way to regions that have been wet with desire the moment he laid his eyes on me. This feeling…this craving…this need… it’s the result of our soul's bonding, fusing until they’ve become one.

  Not too long ago I was dying. A sword through my stomach. My blood on the floor. My mother’s apathetic face above me. My soulmate behind me.

  Then, in just the blink of an eye, the sword that brought our bodies together in flesh as much as soul, was in my mother, the woman I’ve spent my entire life wondering about. Dreaming about. The woman who plotted the death of the realms.

  But here I am. Alive. As Lucifer slips between my walls and enters me with unbridled passion, I feel more alive than I’ve ever felt. Rhythmic pumps reinvigorate my veins. I hold on to him like I need him, my nails digging into his flesh as he works my core in a tempo that is unique to us.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remember who I am. Melody Black. Hunter of demons. Daughter of the New York Guild leader, Mr. Black. I shouldn’t be here.

  I should be anywhere but here.

  “Fuck,” Lucifer grunts, driving deeper inside of me. His cock glides over my g-spot again and again, building the pleasure to something unbearable.

  The moans that leave my lips sound everything unlike the bold and strong woman I’m meant to be. They’re desperate. A cry for him, a need for him.

  As Lucifer expels the last of himself into me, my thoughts become clearer. My dream of becoming the best hunter, surpassing my stoic father - that’s what I should be focusing on. Not a life with a demon I was raised to hate.

  A demon and a hunter. An unlikely pair.

  Fuck that, not unlikely. Impossible. Unnatural – no matter how natural it actually feels.

  Melody Black and Lucifer. From the first day I laid eyes on him, I should have known this wouldn’t end well. It can’t. Because it doesn’t matter that he’s my soulmate, he’s still the devil.

  And because of that, he’s the enemy.

  1

  The rain falls like a woman crying over her dead lover – loud and heavy. It plasters my hair to my face, bringing a chill to my skin, but I don’t seek cover. I don’t even move to warm myself. Just as much as I can’t bring myself to move from this spot, I can’t force my eyes away from Natalia’s now wet grave.

  It feels a lot like her ghost is holding me to where I stand. So much so that I can almost feel her cold fingers clamped onto my shoulders, forcing me to stare at what is left of her. The grave doesn’t do her any justice. She deserves flowers, candles, a weeping crowd behind me. But all she gets is a slab of rock with her name on it. That and a friend who should have saved her before she met her doom.

  A friend who can’t allow her tears to fall freely because that kind of weakness was stomped out of me during my childhood. At a time like this, however, standing within the sour death of my one and only friend, tears seem more than just fitting. The sky certainly thinks so, as it wails in another boom of thunder. But I can’t bring myself to. The only two feelings I can muster is that familiar tang of anger and a slow heat cascading over my soul. Rage.

  An image of Natalia’s final moments flashes through my mind. I see her snarling at me, snapping at me to let her free, to come with her so that I can contribute to the plan to end the human and demonic races. I see her pulling against her binds, those same binds cutting into her wrists and marring her skin with even more blood than the ones caused by the wounds I inflicted. I see the demon, Brotus, standing behind her. His bear of a body shadowing hers in his size, yet when his fingers brush her temples they do so with gentleness. Then, only a few breaths later, she goes limp.

  The next scene makes me flinch and I grit my teeth as the memory washes over the shores of my mind. The way they both flew backwards. The way Natalia’s head looked like it exploded. The blood that had stained the floor.

  And there it is - guilt. Coming to rear its ugly head again.

  I shake my head, banishing the images and, as I do, the weird sensation of Natalia hanging over my shoulder disappears. I must be losing my fucking mind.

  I take a step away from her grave, my legs feeling heavy and unused. I take another step, eyes still trained on the muddy earth.

  The rain continues to pour its sadness down on me and I welcome it. She deserves tears and because I can’t give them to her, I’m at least a little thankful that the skies don’t share my reluctance.

  The wind picks up and the chill of it makes me shudder. But the energy it would take to tighten my jacket around me or to run my hands up and down my arms, feels like it would take too much of an effort.

  “I’m so fucking sorry this happened to you, Natalia,” I whisper into the silence. “I’m so sorry I failed you.” Those are the only words I speak before turning and walking away from her. My steps, as I leave, are heavy, like the toll of losing her has finally hit in full force and settled itself upon my shoulders. But with nothing but time to spare, I don’t force my feet to move quicker. I take each step as it comes, feeling more and more energy drain from me the further away I move.

  By the time I’m standing under the only shelter the pitiful graveyard near the Guild provides, I’m not battered by the threat of pneumonia anymore.

  Ben, a fellow hunter, is standing there. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time, but I’m not sure whether it’s the guilt or the shame or the sadness that prevents me from meeting his gaze. Keeping my eyes strained on the ground, I take the only available seat, which happens to be next to him.

  Concern oozes from his pores and I can tell he’s debating whether or not he should say anything. At first, he allows his lips to embrace the silence and the rain and thunde
r to roar through the air uninterrupted. It takes a few minutes for him to finally grow tired of the silence and clears his throat. “Melody,” he starts off gently, saying my name so carefully, as though he’s afraid to break it. I see his hand twitch, as if he’s tempted to touch me, but it goes no further than that. “Are you okay?”

  It’s a generic question. But in times like these, words could fail even the most outspoken souls.

  “My friend is dead,” I answer. My voice is cold, abrupt. As expected, he flinches at the force of it. I still don’t care to look at him.

  “I know,” he says after a while. “I’m sorry. She deserves better than … all this.”

  Yes, she fucking does. No matter how she died, Natalia was a good hunter. One of the best in the Guild. But having the Hunter image tainted by her death, they had only given her a sad plot of land and no notice of an official funeral. And by they, I mean Mr. Black. It took me hounding him ceaselessly to find out where they had buried her. And even then, he made certain not to leave out the fact that he had buried her out of pure courtesy. That if left up to him and him alone, he would have dumped her body over the Brooklyn bridge when I brought her to him.

  Heaven only knows how I managed to keep myself from clawing his eyes out then and there. Not that it’s too late. Every time I think of him, every time I’m in his presence, my rage doubles in size. She was my friend. He is my father. And no matter how the years had passed without him acting much like the man whose blood runs through my veins, I expected him to at least understand how much I needed him to be human when it came to Natalia’s death. How much I needed him to at least pretend that he cared. If not about Natalia, then about me, my feelings, my pain.

  Ben sighs, resting his back on the cold, metal half-wall behind us. “I still can’t wrap my head around what happened.”

  None of the hunters can. When I came back to the Guild, with Natalia in tow, I told them everything that happened, starting from the moment Natalia attacked me in her apartment. Of course, I left out the bits that make me as guilty as Natalia is in their eyes.

  “And Abigail,” Ben continues with a shake of his head.

  I swallow hard, trying to shift the lump that has formed in my throat.

  Abigail’s body had been trampled to near nonexistence in all the chaos, so a funeral for her hadn’t been possible. When they found her DNA at the site, it was more than enough to prove my story. Unfortunately, my story brought nothing but shame to the Guild.

  Mr. Black, backed by a few other prestigious hunters, didn’t want anything to do with the tainted hunters and so getting rid of them as quickly as possibly was their main priority.

  After all that has happened, my father has his eyes open even wider now. Another fuck-up should not and will not be in the cards as far as he’s concerned. Which means that despite all that I’ve told him, he is still not satisfied.

  Questions follow me. How did I know how to find the person behind everything? How did I take them down? Was I the one who killed Natalia?

  Questions I can’t answer trail in my wake.

  Questions that cause Mr. Black’s distrustful eyes to follow me wherever I go.

  I try to answer them as best as I can, but it’s little use when I’m holding back so much information. If they find out I had the help of the most sought after demon in the universe, then it will certainly be me that they throw over the Brooklyn Bridge. Not something I’m willing to let Mr. Black consider.

  “It was her time,” I say, knowing how cold and standoffish my words sound.

  Despite the fact that I’m not known as someone whose words are spoken with warmth, Ben is still taken back by them. “Aren’t you sad at all about what has happened?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  He looks down at the ground, shaking his head as he takes in the nothingness before him. “It looks more like you’re here out of obligation than anything else.”

  “If you know me so much, Ben,” I say drily, looking back in front. “You should know that I don’t give a shit about obligations.”

  He takes a moment to reply with an apology and the continues to stare a hole into the side of my face. I don’t need to turn around to know just what expression he’s wearing. Recently, Ben hasn’t tried to hide the fact that he has a crush on me and has taken this entire ordeal as an opportunity to plaster himself by my side. To play the shoulder I am free to lean on if I so please. The ears that are always open for my words. For the most part, I ignore him. As long as he doesn’t get in my way, I don’t have a problem with him hanging around. Besides, he has the common sense to know how not to push my very delicate, and extremely volatile, buttons.

  Like right now. He nods, facing ahead, and says nothing. Probably because he knows that whatever he says will only be met with my slowly building irritation. So, he stays silent and, for a while, nothing can be heard but the roar of the rain over our shelter.

  As the seconds drift into minutes, the rain dulls. Ben is fast going restless beside me, rubbing his palms against his thighs, sighing heavily, and resting his back against the metal wall before leaning back up again. I listen silently to him squirm, not taking my eyes off Natalia’s grave. Finally, he says, “we should be getting back to the Guild now, Melody.”

  “You go ahead,” I say calmly, which I know surprises him. Usually, I either snap at him or say nothing at all. Now, I’m just too fucking tired. “I’ll catch up later.”

  He hesitates, turning so that his entire body is pointed in my direction. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure,” I answer and wave my hand, hoping it will urge him on. “Don’t mind me. I just need some time to think.” Again, I manage to keep my tone even.

  That surprises him even more. When he pauses, I half expect him to say something in an attempt to convince me to come back to the Guild with him. Thankfully he thinks better of it.

  Now standing, he nods. “Don’t stay out too long, Melody. Remember you’re only wearing a thin jacket.” Then, as awkward as a young schoolgirl, he blushes and turns to leave.

  I watch him go. Even from behind I have to admit that Ben is an attractive guy. He has the look of your average boy next door, coupled with defined muscles and skills expected of one of the best hunters in the New York Guild. We haven’t been on many missions together, but the glimpses I’ve had of him in action are nothing to shake a stick at. If my life was filled with any kind of normalcy, Ben is the kind of guy I would have been attracted to.

  As soon as his short blond hair is out of sight and the silence thickens around me once again, I refocus my gaze on Natalia’s grave. “You can come out now.”

  Ripples of power skitter across my skin, heightening the chill of the air. I don’t look at my new company, but with the massive size he has, I don’t have to. He sits beside me, hands planted firmly on his knees and his head trained dead ahead.

  “You guys don’t have to keep checking up on me. You know that, right?”

  Brotus hardly moves. I swear, he could sit still throughout a freaking snowstorm.

  “Lucifer is worried about your mental well-being,” he says, keeping his voice contained.

  “Lucifer should know that I’m doing just fine.”

  “Still, he wants me to make sure that you don’t do anything you might regret.”

  I grit my teeth at that, but I can’t say I blame Lucifer for thinking that way. He must have felt the rage I felt at Mr. Black’s treatment of Natalia through our bond. “It isn’t like he can blame me,” I say tartly.

  Finally, Brotus looks at me. I face him when he does and blink in surprise when I see a glimmer of regret flash in his blood-red eyes. “Her death was my fault. If anyone deserves the brunt of your anger, Melody, it is me.” His words sound pained and the feeling that they cause to run through me isn’t something I’m equipped to deal with right now.

  I shake my head at him, trying like hell to keep my cool. If I start crying, if I so much as act an inch out of character, he’ll lo
ck his arms around me and bring me to Lucifer himself. “Don’t be stupid, Brotus. You were a victim of it, if anything.” I wave him off. “And if it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have been able to find Charmeine.”

  He nods, accepting my words. Even so, I sense that he doesn’t quite believe me. Odd insecurity for a guy like him. “When will you return?” he asks, and I know he’s not just doing so on account of Lucifer’s orders. Etched in the furrow of his brow is the kind of longing I’d never thought I’d see on a demon, especially not when that longing is directed toward me.

  His hand moves from his side and he traces a long finger down the side of my face.

  I straighten my back, fighting the urge to lean into his touch. “When I’m good and ready,” I say and move my hand to take a hold of his.

  “It has been weeks, Melody.”

  “I’m well aware of how long it’s been. I was busy. You know that.”

  His indiscernible eyes find mine. “Are you sure you aren’t running?”

  A harsh laugh escapes, actually making my throat hurt. Fitting, since I feel no humor at all. “Running from a group of powerful demons who can teleport anywhere they wish? Sometimes I wonder if you think I’m stupid, Brotus.”

  “You know as well as I that it is perfectly plausible.”

  “If it is, I haven’t learned how yet.” Yet. No doubt he’ll bring that word specifically back to Lucifer. I don’t attempt to take it back.

  He doesn’t react to it. “Running is not a good idea, Melody.”

  “Not showing much faith in my intelligence there, Brotus.” Then, I add silently, “I have no reason to run.”

  Running means being away from Lucifer and Brotus and Merlidon. It means denying my body and my soul the very thing they seem to crave more than anything right now - them. It means living a life filled with unfulfillment. Running is nowhere near the front of my mind.