All Chapters of Knotting the Hunter: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

DaxAfter four hours of staring at my ceiling without being able to fall asleep, I finally give up.So here I am at the gym before the sun's even thinking about showing its face, beating the heavy bag like it owes me an apology, and my wolf won't shut the fuck up.Tell him, he says. Again. For approximately the nine hundredth time. Tell the hunter what we know. Then claim him and keep him.Right.Brilliant.Walk up to Noah Hunter, a man who has spent his whole life believing werewolves are vicious monsters, and announce that somebody out there is deliberately biting people to make more of us.Watch his face do the thing where the hatred that’s been slowly eroding comes crashing back.Watch him reach for the silver he keeps on every blade he owns and try to kill me, and Finn, and every other wolf he encounters with it.No thanks.I hit the bag harder. The chain screams.The problem isn't even him, not really.Part of me, which could be a stupid part with no sense of self-preservation,

NoahI told Heidi I had a hunt.There's no hunt.Nothing on the boards, nothing called in, no monster out here worth the crossbow on my back.I just couldn't sit in her kitchen one more minute while she planned a whole life with me and I nodded along like a man who's all in.I’ve never hated myself more.So I'm walking the dark with a weapon I won't use, telling myself the direction I picked was random.It wasn't random.I'm well onto the Northgate edge before I'll admit that, and I only admit it because I'm already standing at the rim of a clearing looking at the reason I came.He's crouched in the leaf litter, no shirt on, his blond hair catching the moon.I refuse to notice how good he looks. What I do pay attention to is the fact that he’s investing on his own.He’s keeping something from me and I’m not in the mood for his bullshit.That's the part that gets me moving before my brain signs off on it."You didn’t tell me you were coming out tonight," I accuse.He doesn't startle. H

DaxTwo days.He's gone dark on me for two days and the wolf is climbing the walls of my skull about it.Find him, he keeps saying, pacing. Something's wrong. Go and find what's ours.He's not yours, I tell him, racking weights nobody left out, just to have something to do with my hands.He's a hunter with a complicated life and a phone he's allowed to ignore.He never ignores it. He hasn’t been to work. Find him.The wolf has a point.Noah Hunter answers his phone by the second ring like a man waiting for the world to end, and for two days my texts have gone into a hole.I've checked the thing eleven times since the eight o'clock class.I'm aware of how that makes me look.I've decided not to think about it.The gym's empty and everything’s tidied away.The last stragglers cleared out an hour ago.I should lock up and go home and stop hanging around like an idiot.The door opens and every thought I've ever had walks straight out of my head.It's him. The wolf knew before the latch ev

DaxHe told me he'd put me through the wall.Some optimistic part of me is hoping he tries.We're a tangle on the mats he disinfected not long ago, both of us naked, both of us long past the point where stopping is a word either of us still owns, and Noah Hunter is fighting me for the top like the loser gets executed.Let him win, the wolf says, which is not the advice I expected from him. Let him think he can overpower us. Then take it back.Smartest thing he’s said in twenty years.I give Noah an inch.He takes it like a gift, drives a thigh up between mine, and for one bright second he's got my wrists pinned and triumph all over his stupid gorgeous face."There," he breathes. "That's more like it.""Is it?"I let him keep it.Let him feel like king of the mountain for exactly as long as it takes to hook a heel behind his knee and roll us so hard the air leaves him in a grunt."That's more like it," I agree, settling my weight down where it belongs.He bucks.I ride it.He gets a fo

DaxThere's cum cooling on my stomach, a hunter breathing slow against my throat, and I'm lying here grinning at my own ceiling like a man with a head injury.Best night of my life, hands down. It's not even a contest.Noah hasn't said anything in five minutes.He's not asleep, either. I can tell from the way he's holding his shoulders, all that careful stillness, like if he stays quiet enough the last hour will agree to take itself back.Good luck with that.My couch kept the receipts.Ours, the wolf says, and for once he isn't shouting.He's sprawled out fat and smug somewhere behind my ribs, basking like he personally won a war.Keep him. Don't let him walk out.That's the one thing I can't promise you, buddy.Because the wolf already wanted more than this.When I had my teeth at his throat he wanted to finish it, the forever way, the no-take-backs way, and I'm the bastard who slammed that door in his face.The wolf will be complaining about when he’s done being smug and sated, but