Possessed Hunter Novels & Stories

Seeing the look on Taliah’s face I look down, “is he married or something.” Shaking her head no Taliah took a deep breath, “he is like one of the top drug lords of New York Taylor...like in fact, he is one of the top drug runners in the US. Like he is deep in the mafia. Every time the cops arrest him the witness ends up missing or dead, evidence gets destroyed. Taylor, he isn’t a good guy.”

His shield failed him and he was the mercy of Hunter, who he saw Hunter as a specter within shadow standing atop a pile of blasted stone, arms akimbo and a writing sheath of darkness surrounding him with a thin filament of light at the outer edges of the darkness and a slim band of light surrounding him within the darkness. His voice was s menacing and mocking. “I will let you live this day Master Poe, but do not follow or try to stop me ever again or not only your life, but your soul will feed my need.” The blade that Poe had used drifted over to Hunter who reached out a hand to accept it. “I’ll be needing this.” And though he could not see it he sensed the smile sinister in Hunter’s voice

Then, out of that void, a figure stepped forward. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Clad in black leather that seemed to absorb the moonlight. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his presence—goddess above, his presence—was suffocating. It pressed against me the way Damon and Lucas’s dominance did, only sharper, like knives instead of claws. “Finally,” the hunter said, his voice low and smooth, carrying a deadly calm. “The fated wolves, united in one den. How generous of you to gather.”

He’s pouring me a glass of wine I didn't order. Maybe it will make my blood more palatable when he drains me. I’m beyond caring. A glass of wine seems like the least I’ve earned tonight. "I have no power over the actions of the hunters, but a site can be encouraged to hold no findings. I employ people who are very good at removing evidence. It's most of my payroll." "By dawn?" "Do you know what kind of monster it was?" "No. But I have a description. A twenty foot tall skeleton built from human skeletal remains. Silver bolts bounced off it. There were wolves involved with taking it down."

I blurted. “Get them out or you're dead,” he threatened. “Careful,” I said softly. “Don’t try it.” My men stepped off their bikes, cracking their knuckles, their eyes changing colors. “We are not easily cowed, Xavier!” Henrique shouted, unzipping his jacket. His chest puffed out under the grey shirt. “We are wolves too, in case you've forgotten. I am an Alpha too of this pack, just like you.” “I know that,” I said. I could feel my nails growing longer and sharper, becoming thick daggers. “But there are levels to this game, Henrique.”

She knew that if she could capture the essences inhabiting Dorian and Carter before they returned to their respective planes, she could claim for herself something no mortal had ever possessed. "I offer these vessels of flesh," she declared to the void, her eyes turning completely black. "I offer the life of Dorian Thorne and that of his assistant. In exchange, I demand the Right of Blood: the immortality that flows within the angel and the power of command held by the demon. Let their divinities die so that I may be eternal."

He mused getting away from her, he stared at his bloodied hands and could feel blood on his face and chest. Sighing he tossed her unconscious body over his shoulder and walked over to the stream nearby. She was light as a feather. He put her down near the rock before cleaning all the blood. His men arrived just in time, they also had blood on them as they handed him pants. Hunter put them on as he turned around to stare at his possession. Sweet little witch got into the wrong hands. Who would save her from the monster now? Oddly enough he felt excited to torment his new prey as a devilish smirk caressed his lips.

A figure emerged from the tree line—a tall man with the unmistakable confidence of someone who thought he was in control. Benton Nye. I had only seen his picture in the dossier Hana provided on the drive from the farm to the park. His picture had been burned into my mind—a man with sharp features, dark hair, and a smirk that barely concealed his arrogance. The dossier detailed his role as the leader of the American Hunter Association, his calculated brutality, and his obsession with destroying the supernatural and avenging his mentor, Sakina Adio. He didn’t just kill supernatural beings—he studied them, broke them, and experimented on them.

Ronan asked. The man flinched, just slightly, but it was enough. I saw it in his eyes—the moment he knew we’d caught on. I bent down, grabbing his hand and turning it to the side, exposing the faint mark etched into his skin. My growl rumbled in my throat. "He's a hunter." "Fuck," he hissed, the rope snapping as his claws swiped through the air where I’d just been. He bolted, but he wasn’t fast enough.

And still, that damn block on my wolf kept me from healing, from transforming, from accessing any real power. The first hunter appeared at the entrance of my man cave, if I could call it that. He was older than the others and had this air of a veteran. Tactical gear covered most of his body, but I could see his eyes through his night vision which were alert and wary. He raised some kind of weapon - it wasn't a gun but something else. "Calla Hart," he said. "Time to go home." I felt it then, that God damned feeling I've been trying to call since this whole freak show started.