All Chapters of His Little Hunter: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

“Oh don’t glare at me like that. It’s been years since we last saw each other. You’re finally back home, that’s plenty of reason to be happy.” Alistair said with a smirk, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. He hadn’t changed even a bit despite all the time that had passed but that was to be expected. He was a vampire after all, an abomination. Once their kind reached a certain age, they froze into their appearances, never again aging no matter how much time passed. Alistair was more than 5 centuries old but didn’t look a day over 35. The vampire’s dark hair was slicked back, without a single strand of hair out of place. It was the hairstyle I’d always known him with and on more than one occasion I’d wondered how much gel was used to get the hair that way. I imagined it would be rock solid if touched. A black leather jacket had been thrown over his large body, a black shirt underneath with a matching pair of tight, shiny leather trews. As always, his fashion sense was questionab

Royals blood had strong healing properties. Strong enough to revive a person from the brink of death when ingested. Because of this, Royal’s blood was a very rare and highly sought commodity. There were so few royals still alive after the last battle for the throne and the number of royals willing to give their blood out was even lower. Especially since blood was a major catalyst to initiate the change. Very few were willing to hand their blood out and risk the creation of fledglings they had no knowledge of. Before now, I’d never had a reason to use my blood to heal someone, let alone a human but I couldn’t bear to see the hunter writhe in pain. It almost felt like I was the one who was hurt. I couldn’t stand to see the female who killed my brother writhe in pain. How laughable. All that talk about making her pay for what she’d done, now look at me. Healing her with my blood and staring at her unconscious form like a love-sick puppy. I didn’t even realise when my hand began stroki

“Michail, can I speak to you for a moment.” No pain. The cracking of the whip as it lashed my skin never sounded, and hesitantly I peeled my eyes open to find out why. Lord Michail had stopped in place, his head turned ever so slightly to the female who had entered the prison. She stood a few steps away from the entrance, her form clad in a black knee-length dress that was a stark contrast against her pale skin. She was beauty personified, with the clearest pair of blue eyes I’d ever seen and a body befitting a supermodel. Her presence didn’t suit the ambience of the prison. “I’ve warned you not to interrupt me while I’m busy.” Lord Michail snapped, his grip on the whip tightening. I saw the fear in Eliza’s blue eyes the moment he snapped at her and she cautiously took a step back before seeming to gain some courage. “This is important.” “What is it?” “I understand that you enjoy playing with your new toy but you’re risking all our lives by keeping that girl here. You have

Standing directly in front of me, I had to crane my neck up just to meet his gaze. That was the first time I took note of just how tall he was. I’d known he was tall; I’d assumed as much from watching him from the rooftop that fateful night, but up close like this… He towered over me, making me feel short. And by no means was I considered short. At 5’10, I was technically taller than the average human male. But then again, he wasn’t human.Just like that night when we’d first met, his bloodstained eyes remained fixated on me, unblinking, the crimson orbs boring into me like they saw through my very soul. Fear stirred up with each second longer his crimson gaze lingered on me, but I refused to let it show. The part of me that prided itself in strength refused to show any more weakness to this male.“It’s a shame that it had to be you.” He started, the timbre of his deep voice erupting goose pimples all over my skin. It could have just been my imagination, but his face looked almost mel

DAMIEN’S POVAllison never left her room unlocked, no matter what. Whether she was in the room or not, she never failed to lock the door. It wasn’t because she didn’t trust us, and it wasn’t because she had something to hide. No, it was a trauma response, one that stemmed from years of brutal abuse.She was forced to live as a blood slave for so long, allowing countless vampires to have access to her body whenever and wherever they pleased, all against her will. Even though she knew well a locked door wouldn’t stop an abomination intent on hurting her, she needed the locked door to give her the illusion of safety. It was the only way she could sleep.Inching closer to her bedroom door, the sound of careless shuffling carried over the sound of the blaring alarm, and I went on high alert. There was definitely someone inside, and it sounded like they were rummaging through her things. With my gun loaded, ready, and away from my body, I peeked through the half-open door, making sure to be