Novel & Cerita Hunter Toh

Then, a fresh G****e Alert popped up at the top of her screen, completely tanking the trajectory. It was a video clip from a sports morning show. The guest speaker was Hunter Vance—no relation to Eve's family, but a man who carried a different kind of pedigree. Hunter was the notorious captain of the New York Vipers, Terry’s fiercest division rival, and a player known for a dirty, psychological style of hockey both on and off the ice. Eve clicked play.

They were all for Zendaya taking the bullet for them if the opponents would let them escape. Hunter shouted, “Do not fear, Zendaya, nobody can hurt you as long as I am here.” He was a heavenly prodigy, at half step to Mystic rank. He had absolute confidence in his fighting prowess. As one of the best fighters among the younger generation of Michigan’s Stoermer family, he was respected wherever he went. With that, it was rather inevitable that he thought high and mighty of himself and might looked down upon others. ‘Hmph, what a bunch of thieves. Even if you have guns, I might not lose to you!’ With that thought in Hunter’s mind, he threw a punch at the deck.

I gasped and I fell to my knees in the vision, holding my own chest. I felt the pain. The man finally took off his hoodie and he smiled. Mischievously. It was him. The Hunter.

Without the noise of his devotion, I could see the exact angle of the Stalker’s rifle through the cedar logs. BOOM. The door didn't just break; it disintegrated. A high-frequency charge turned the wood into a rain of splinters. Through the smoke, the first silver-masked Hunter stepped over the threshold, his infrared lens glowing. I didn't scream. I lunged. I used the leaden weight of my stone arm as a club. I slammed the quartz wrist into the Hunter’s throat before his optics could track my 0.3-second lag. Crack. The sound of his windpipe collapsing was a dry, satisfying thud.

Say something you idiot! "Hi my name's Hunter" I hold out my hand wanting to touch her even though I know she's human. Her fingertip touches mine and I jolt from the rush of sparks from the tiniest touch. "Mate" my wolf says as he pushes forward and speaks through me.

All modesty’s just flown off the window. His name is Hunter and it takes a snap of his beautiful fingers for my vagina to weep. And nothing—not even this cotton barrier underneath—will stop the arousal from trickling down my thighs.

Meanwhile, inside the private room at Mystic Club. Wendell Hunt was having a toast with a East Asian man. This man was over hundred 90 cm tall and wore a wolf's fangs as a pendant. He had tanned skin and tone muscles. At first glance, he look like a farmer who work on the fields by the countryside. But the man was, in fact, a powerful figure. He was a mercenary leader who carried out activities in several countries of Asia all year long, his group was known as Wolf Hunter, and his name was Rocky.

Hunter scoffed in disdain. Hades was not dumb. He knew Miru would not let it go after he had trashed the Audi A4 in front of her and sent a video as an act of aggression. Hades figured that Tim, his best fighter, could not handle Miru on his own. Hence, he gave Hunter a call to bring backup. To his surprise, Kaze came along and incapacitated Tim. Hunter glanced at his fighter. Angered by Kaze’s words, the fighter charged toward Kaze.

387 Hunter fished out his phone and went to her chat. Her profile picture made him emotional. It was of him… Holding his first ever trophies after jumping into the business world. That smile on his face made him look so young and cute. That was years ago but his mom, who was obsessed with his smile, kept that picture of him as her DP always. With a twitching thumb Hunter tapped on the play button and the first audio played with a sob, making him sit stiffly as his face lost the iota of color that had been there.

Theria giggled and trotted off to say high to the crew. As they entered the training area a man wearing a stag skull helmet greeted him. He smelled like pine and the forest, and he looked like a huntsman from the middle ages. Slung across his back a Dragonuv sniper rifle and modern compound bow complete with arrows. “So the whelp finally arrives. The name is Herne the Hunter.” “Warren Vandal, a descendant of Troy,” He held out his hand and hoped the sniper would take it. A smile appeared through the thick beard, “The queen didn't tell us who you were. She just said you would be joining the team,” His voice remained friendly and even. “How is the eidolon?”