Hunter Hunter Pfp の小説・ストーリー

Maybe if I'd been there at his side to fight, he'd still be here. When work failed to distract me from the hunter, I found myself at Club Eternal in search of a willing female to bed. It wasn't a difficult search. I didn't possess the ethereal charms or delicate beauty of a fae prince, but I wasn't hard on the eyes. Decades of battle and training had sculpted my body into something formidable. The only flaw in my appearance was the jagged scar cutting across my left eye, but few females were deterred by it. Some were even drawn to it, attracted, I suspected, to the danger it promised. The violence it implied.

“He’s not just selling bodies. He’s changing the balance. If hunters start drawing our fallen to themselves, then they will organize. If witches are involved, they will bend the rules. We cannot let a human-run front fracture what we hold.” Matteo nodded and pushed a small envelope across the desk. Inside were photographs, an address, and three names circled in red. The red looked obscene against the paper, like a blossom of warning. I scanned them slowly, committing faces to memory. One of them had Petra’s eyes in it. The thought made my jaw tighten.

Things that don’t belong in the same world I live in. Hunter’s dressed down today. No suit. Just dark jeans and a white button-down that he rolled up to the elbows like he was halfway between boss and boy-next-door. His jaw is dusted with stubble and he keeps running his hand through his hair like it’s some involuntary tic he’s not aware of. He looks… normal. Approachable, Dangerously human. My hands are still damp from the dishwater as I grip the laundry basket, pretending to fluff the already-fluffed throw pillows on the couch.

I sucked in a breath and nodded. He was right. The outline was nothing compared to the shading as he colored in the design… which I still had yet to see. I flinched at the pain. The feeling was more annoying than actual pain. It was like a constant stinging or burning that never seemed to end as it dragged across my skin over and over again. It felt like talons were digging into sun burnt flesh, already scorched and in need of reprieve. Now and then, he wiped away the ink and blood but always returned with his head lowered in stoic form. His face was a wall of complete concentration, hand perfectly steady. Maybe that’s why he was such a great hunter. Firm. Stable.

I smiled gently. “You have a warrior’s body.” I ran my fingers down a particularly ropey scar down her side. “What was this one from?” “Bobby Brown,” she said. “A werewolf that liked to hunt human children. He had a thing for their hearts. He’d barbecue them.” She shuddered with the memory. “He had killed my client’s nephew. Took me a week but I got him. Brought his heart to my client as proof.” She spoke matter of factly, no pride in her voice. She might not be proud of herself, but I was impressed. I had heard of Bobby Brown and had heard of the hunter that got him. I didn’t realize it was her.

Why can’t I shoot? “Elena…” a deep baritone calls out from behind me and I whirl around to come face to face with Hunter. His jet black hair is slicked back, it is damp and he has clearly just taken a bath. Droplets of water stain his grey shit, creating little darkened spots. “Hunter!” I gasp. “I’m sorry, I know we’re not supposed to train at night but I’m not getting any better–“

"So I hear you identified a Hybrid, well done" "Its not that much of a feat" Danté said reaching for his fridge "Beer?" "Yes please" Of the three hunters that made the final tryouts Danté and Vincent where like brothers, the third was a huntress named Xena and she herself was gone with the wind to Danté, he hasn't seen her in years. The two sat down and cracked the cold beverages "Anything I should know about her?" "Not much I can really say... Accept" Danté brushed his chin.

After that, a different kind of satisfaction came across me. I enjoyed hunting these human hunters, thus, killing 10 werewolves and being the youngest and best werewolf hunter. Rendall killed 8 werewolves which are also not that bad, Quinn is setting poisonous traps and putting some on the bows granting her 4 kills. We make a great team. “Let’s go, Raffi.” I turned and saw Rendall brushing his mid-length hair using his fingers. “Are you going on a date?” I asked him as I scanned his clothes.

The death paladin let go of its sword and let it stab into the sand while it spun around counterclockwise and bashed its shield at the Hunter. “Argh!” The Hunter was sent flying across the desert. He managed to flip his body and land on his first until he came to a stop. That action made his hood fall down and exposed his head. He had light green hair on the top that was tied back and he shaved the sides and back of his head. He had green eyes as well. He lifted his head to look at the death paladin. It grabbed its sword and started charging toward the Hunter. The Hunter flapped his cloak back and reached for something on his waist, a small bell.

But cold sweat started to creep down the back of his neck slowly as he clicked on the website address and waited for the web window to open. And Hunter's heart sank. The first page of the web is filled with his enormous photo and the most gruesomely written headings; HUNTER LOUISE THE HEIR OF LOUISE CORP. HAS FAKED HIS DEATH. Hunter's lips thinned reading the headline of the news. He scrolled down the screen quickly, looking at more photos of him in some of the most disgusting poses. The bitch was beside him, holding him possessively. He looks pretty stoned in that photo. He hugged the bitch back and kissed her bare shoulder. One of his hands was on the bitch's shoulder, and his other hand w