Another Hunt Mga Nobela at Kwento

I put a hand to my chest, feigning flustered embarrassment at Camille’s attention—but I keep my eyes on Keith, and I let just enough conflict show to stir the pot. Camille sees it. He *wants* to see it. A horn blows. The Hunt begins. They shift fast—fur, muscle, bone snapping into place—and launch into the forest with thunderous speed. The energy in the clearing pulses and then stills. Only the wind remains. Tessa exhales. “Okay. So. Ben, Keith, Camille. Who’s coming back with what?” “Ben’s going to try to drag an elk out of pure spite,” I say.

“We have a hunt coming up, that RV park in Butler. Have you heard?” I had heard mention of the place, but I didn’t know for sure if it was a go or if I was accompanying the rest of the team. I still didn’t. “You want me to see if I can find out what’s going on there?” “If you can. And any more information about that dream you had might be useful, too.”

Cuba isn't known for its large game animals, but there is one thing we can hunt and I allow Beast to take over completely. In order for the men to think clearly in beast form, we run for an hour. Once Labyrinth mutters "Ready" through his elongated jaws, the hunt is on. We're looking for a new kind of death, one that fights back. It's another hour before we come to a burned-out area I remember from earlier explorations. I walk closer to examine the center. The large crater-like area shows the trail we've been looking for. "More than two," I say.

Like he was barely holding it together. His eyes tracked my every move, every small gesture. People slowly started filing out of the room. And as I stepped through the doorway, my lungs finally filled with air again. The cold hallway air hit me like a relief. The Hunt... it was a major event, usually held outside the castle, deep in the wilderness—untamed forests for the most part. Would I... would I have the chance to be alone with him out there? I needed to come up with a plan—some way to be alone with him in a tent... or maybe a room.

Someone would shift the balance. And the hunt had only just begun.

They’ll want to check the wreckage to confirm I’m not inside. Keeping low to the ground, I hurried away from the crash as the hunters pulled up, hooting and hollering like the demented Americans they are. Now I don’t mean to say all Americans are demented. But the American hunters are an uncouth sort that takes a weird joy in killing, things being on fire, and vehicles getting into accidents. Whatever the case, their joyful hoots and hollers that I might be dead and arguments about who gets to take credit gave me time to get away. I hurried to the nearest neighborhood to search for a car to take.

The hunt wasn’t over. It was just beginning.

It’s a good distraction from my own anxiety, I guess. I break into a sprint and shift, tearing toward the mountains. I pass the lake and hot springs in a blur of dark woods and moonlight with no direction in mind, only the knowledge that a hunting party came home this morning with a report of seeing a hellhound thirty miles north of Silverhide, and there is no way I am letting an opportunity like this pass me by. I descend into the valleys behind Silverhide, racing deeper into the forest, following the scent the hunters’ left behind on their return.

Their paws pounded the earth, the thrill of the hunt igniting their senses. Lucia's scent, sweet and tempting, lingered in the cool night air, drawing them deeper into the tangled maze of trees. Aiden's focus narrowed, his wolf driven by the primal need to claim what was theirs. Declan ran alongside his brother, their movements in perfect sync. They were closing in, their prey just within reach. The hunt was nearing its end, and the real fun was about to begin.

As if knowing my attention was on him, he said silently, "This is the last time you lie to me." Swallowing, I shifted my gaze to the window. Moments dragged by before I rested my forehead on the pane, looking at the thick forests we drove past. Why did he even care anyway? I would have gotten even worse wounds from the torture he would've had his men inflict on me. Through the review mirror, I caught sight of the long line of cars behind us. The Hunt usually spanned a period of just two days. Two days of violently hunting down wild games. The Hunt was a largely anticipated event and I failed to see how something so dangerous could be looked forward to. And not to mention, they'd be killing i