Hunting Grounds Book Novels & Stories

****Warning: book contains scenes of abuse, sexual content, violence, adult content, and foul language. Some scenes may be triggers to some and are not appropriate for all ages. Readers discretion is advised Thank you for reading- S.E Dymek**** Chasing: Her chest hit the cold hard ground. She laid flat against the ground trying not to be seen. Pieces of dirt floating up into the air around her. The smell of the earth invaded her nostrils. Her blonde braided hair falling infront of her dirt stained face as she looked out over their encampment. She had been tracking them for miles. It had felt like days had passed each time she got a little closer. She was counting them. They were the size of

“It calls to death. Every time it surfaces, someone dies.” Kael gave a faint, humorless smile. “Then death will have company.” The convoy moved deeper into the mist, engines echoing through the valley. Above them, thunder rumbled again — closer this time. The forest itself seemed to be holding its breath. And far behind them, hidden in the fog, two sets of eyes — one crimson, one golden — followed their every move. The hunt for the Book of the Damned had begun. ---

Hunter and Tete sat on a sparse patch of grass speckled with pebbles and red dirt. The freshness of unspoiled air and the heat from the sun soothed his bruised body, and the wide-open spaces, the measure of earth, and the honking geese flying in formation livened his spirit. Strewn beside a tawny-hued boulder the color of the foothills were the clothes Hunter had discarded.

Ramsy boasted. Delta Ramsy mustered little heed to Higgins' pitiful state as the spat to the soon to-be corpse in his wake. Hunters were members of the resistance, who were mostly humans that had their only goal to be liberating their people and domineering the greater mass of carnivorous beast that desired to usurp any attempts they made to establish a system like theirs or breed enough to try. Higgins' life was dangling on a thin thread, his hands laid across the two ends of the baracade by chains anchored to his wrists and a weakened resolve from that death that just insisted on taking its time before truly drawing the life out of him.

I turned a corner quickly and broke into a light jog. And they started jogging too. “Stop running, bitch!” one of them laughed. “You know how this ends.” Panic immediately overwhelmed me. I clutched my bag tighter and ran harder. My coat flapped behind me as I sprinted down the dimly lit street. Their heavy footsteps pounded behind me, closing in very quickly. So close that I could hear their breathing now, they sounded like hunters enjoying the chase. I cut into a narrower alley, hoping the tight space would slow them down. But that was a seriously wrong move as it only made their voices echo louder.

Max was mine. “The information I gave you was accurate. I was coming over to discuss recent developments with you. This girl is being placed on a chopping board and served to us by Noctua. If the file I have in my hands is the truth, then she might be a pawn in a plan much bigger than we thought.” I backed into my chair and stared thoughtfully into my father’s still-red eyes. “Now, my two questions for you are how are vampire hunters still roaming this earth when you promised the entire congregation that they had been dealt with after Mother’s death, and who the fuck is Edward Ravenwood?”

I learned that lesson before I could even spell my own name. I lift my chin and stare out the window. We’re almost at the hunting grounds—a massive stretch of private land on the edge of Ashridge Hollow. It’s the perfect place to answer the call of the wild, far from curious eyes. A perfect place for shifters, but a dangerous place for a human with a shotgun.

He moved with me, keeping his arm around my waist and trailing the fingers of his other hand around my kneecap. “I’ve been around a long time,” he hummed. “And you aren’t the first hunter I’ve met. Besides,” he added, with a wry smile, “my very existence goes against the laws of nature. It would be… ill-advised of me to doubt the existence of other supernatural beings.” I made a non-committal sound in the back of my throat. He smiled. “Maybe that could be our first hunt together. The ghost of Wiley Manor.” I snorted at that. “Sounds like a terrible name for an equally terrible book.”

And what the fuck was she thinking being out here alone? I started after her—trotting carefully, so she wouldn’t hear me—until I reached the place where she’d stopped and sought the scent. I sniffed the ground there and stopped trotting, my entire body on alert, and hackles high. To my nose, her scent had mingled with that thing’s trail. Cara, the shy and unassuming librarian, was out in the woods in the middle of the night, following the thing that had attacked her. She was fucking hunting.