The Hunter Novels & Stories

Crystal Snow POV I tried my best to show him, love, to show him that for me, he is more important than his money. But it did not work. Hunter was and still is the most hunted man from New York, a billionaire who can have everything and anything at any time. He was forced to marry me, a simple woman just because he needed to look good in papers like a married man and a loving person. I was easy prey because of my red and long hair like fire, my blue sparkling eyes and my slim body. I was just the perfect wife but in reality, for him, I'm nobody.

She said, trying to remember the vague of memory, “I'm hunting-” “The hell misty!” “My lady should let me finish my words please?” She giggled, kinda amuse. “And what's wrong hunting if it's for the love of my life?” “How can hunting be related to love, Misty?” My mind spun to the idea, given a destructive results if relates the act to love. She shiver, and somehow a thing last night came to her mind. She murmured, “So if ever, I was hunt... for love?” Misty's eyes widened. “Are you being hunt, my lady?”

“You’re right about Melinda not being involved though; hunters never take bribes, they have a strict code of honor. But the thing that’s bothering me is, why try to shoot at me in broad daylight? If a hunter is really after someone, they’ll simply disappear without a trace.” “That’s exactly what’s been bothering me as well.” Ace commented. “Hunter’s are very precise. They never miss a target. Then why were you shot in the abdomen only? If that hunter had gotten a lock on to your body, he could’ve shot anywhere. And they’re known to especially go for the head first. And on top of that, the man fired a few warning shots to cause commotion.” “Something doesn’t add up, Ace. Find out what it is.”

Alistair crouched beside me and brushed a loose strand of hair away from my face. “Before you convince yourself that you know him,” he said quietly, “understand this. Hunter is a devil. He feels no pity for anyone, he cares about no one. To him, everything is a game…. And that includes you.” My lips trembled.

Reyna Andrews • It was a quite sudden question when I ask that to Adrian. I suspected he was different when he asked me those questions. I wasn't paranoid or anything about him. It's just that he somehow smells different than a regular human being. And I wanted to know if he was a werewolf or just a plain human that believes in the supernatural. He shook his head. "No, I'm a Hunter. A Hunter who kills werewolves." "Oh..." I say, awkwardly and silently...

Anna Harris Hunter is a mafia! He isn't just in it, he runs one of the most infamous mafia organization. He told me about it so calmly like it was a piece article on environmental issues in a newspaper. I had spent the whole afternoon and most of the evening thinking about the shit that have been running around me. My Dad, my ex-boyfriend and Hunter, they're all a part of this swamp, a nightmarish thought for me.

Craig offered, drawing Antoine’s attention to himself. "Who the fuck are you?" Antoine demanded, going on defense. "I’m Craig Hamilton." Craig began, holding up his hands in an I’m innocent gesture. "I don’t give a damn about what your name is." Antoine snapped, stepping between Craig and me. I want to know what the hell you are!" "I’m a hunter." Craig responded slowly. "Hunter?" Antoine repeated. "I thought hunters were all disbanded a long time ago." "They were." Craig agreed. "However, I’m not from your time."

She didn’t know if she could protect herself. But she would die standing before she let these people see her break. The lead hunter’s gaze devoured her. Tiara buzzed violently, static cracking through her system. “Ma—ma—mama—run—” Jenna’s stomach dropped. “No. We stay together.” The hunter stepped into the firelight, revealing more details—bone piercings threaded through his ear cartilage, teeth strung as necklaces, symbols cut into his ribs. Then he raised the spear.

Those were desires he needed to cast out so that they would not lodge in his heart and sour his spirit, but it was not an easy cause. Hunter made the decision to no longer retreat. The only thing was, though, that while his mother had trained and disciplined his body and mind as a weapon in the little time that they had had together, there had been no training in the use of weapons other than the bow (and that had been in its care and purpose because he had been too small to wield it). He had tried to use his superior speed and dexterity to avoid the Dine while studying the way Hotuaekhaashtait carried and used the weapon. He hoped what he had gleaned was enough to see him through.

Each small token felt like a small verdict handed down on someone’s life. I thought about the hunters, about the way they moved like a religion, how they had lists and codes and a taste for ritual. They were a force that cut in both directions. To control them would mean to get my hands into a machinery I was not sure I wanted to understand. But controlling the hunters meant fewer surprises. It meant I could direct the violence in a way that kept Aurelia a step away from fire.