A Hunter's Passion (3 page)

Chapter Three

Ryker had sworn every oath that he wouldn’t get too close to Jenna. Observe only—or so he’d promised his brothers. Discover the truth and, if necessary, take care of their little problem. It was no different than any other job, except that the moment he’d caught sight of her lissome form through the coffee shop window, he’d regretted those vows. It was quite easy to promise something, but far more challenging to follow through.

He’d gone two years without a peep from her. There’d been no well-wishes on his birthdays or customary greeting cards during the holidays. Hell, he hadn’t even known where she’d vanished to, having respected her wishes not to be found. Not that it’d been easy. It seemed she’d changed her surname from Sinclair to Davis, though he had yet to learn why.

As for locating her—that’d taken calling in every favor he’d gained throughout his years, as well as promising some new ones.

It seemed the same as every other hunt. No margin for error, no place for compassion or emotion. Once given the name, it was their job to deliver the darkling’s death, their black souls condemned to burn in hell for all eternity.

Now...this was anything but simple. This was Jenna Sinclair—
his
Jenna Sinclair. More times than he could count he’d held her in his arms and listened to the sound of her heartbeat. He’d loved her, and grieved when she’d vanished from their home in the middle of the night with only a note to explain.

He found it so hard to believe that she was the witch the Church claimed. But there was still the tainted parchment crumpled in his pocket, practically burning a hole through the material and demanding that he abide by his duty. For two years he’d dreamed of finding her, but not like this. Not hunting her for being a witch.

A
witch.

His skin crawled just thinking about it. How long had she known that she possessed magic? All those stories he’d fed her about the creatures that went bump in the night had seemed to terrify her. A ploy, perhaps—milking him for information? The thought was sobering and the muscles in his jaw tightened. How sad that all the little puzzle pieces were only now starting to fall into place. Someone sent to infiltrate his family, to learn their secrets, to find their weaknesses. But the question remained: to whom was she reporting? Or maybe she’d intended to needle her way into their hearts with the hope that they might spare her.

Duty trumped all for the Bennett family. What was love compared to the safety and well-being of the human race? To their unwavering pledge to protect those that couldn’t protect themselves? If she was a darkling, she had to be killed—it was as simple as that.

Her innocent little gasp dragged him from his reverie, slamming his thoughts back into the present. He’d known she was behind him even before her friend’s eyes had flicked over to her. Apparently, after all this time, he hadn’t lost the ability to sense her presence. His entire body had begun humming the moment she’d stopped behind him.

Staring her down now, he noticed that she’d allowed her hair to grow out. The gentle waves now brushed the sensual curve of her lower back. The familiar purse of her pouty lips was rosebud pink and every bit as tempting as he remembered them. It didn’t help that his stomach warmed with the thought of tasting them again, or that he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away.

When her wide, terrified eyes turned to him, his lungs deflated. She’d never worn such a look in his presence before, and while part of him was sickened, another took perverse satisfaction. He shouldn’t have sympathy for the one that had reached into his chest and torn his still-beating heart out before stomping it into the ground. So yes, after all she’d put him through, he was taking great personal enjoyment in this. She could bat those big brown eyes at him until the cows came home, but he wouldn’t give in. Not until he knew the truth.

“Jenna Sinclair.” He growled her name far deeper than he’d intended. Lip curling, he let his gaze trail down her lithe, lean body.

“Ryker,” she whispered, and Lord, how his chest burned from the sound of it. So soft, so sweet and heartbroken, as though
he’d
done something wrong.

“Ryker?” her friend cajoled, reminding him that they weren’t alone. “
The
Ryker?”

Eyes alight with curiosity, Jenna’s friend leaned forward until she could run a slender finger along his tight jaw. “Well, honey, it’s nice to meet the best lay Jenna’s ever had—”

“Kara!” Jenna gasped, eyes wide as her fingers darted up to cover her lips as though it could retract what had been said.

A dent furrowed his brow as his gaze skipped between the two women.
The best lay she’s ever had
—his stomach warmed, until he mentally kicked himself. For two years, she’d fooled him and his entire family, no small feat. Jenna was an accomplished liar, he couldn’t forget that. Who knew what games they were playing at here, and he had to retain focus. There was much Jenna could say to cut him; he had to lock those emotions away.

“Kara, I think you need to leave now,” Jenna whispered behind her hand, her gaze flicking to her friend for a brief moment before returning to his.

“Wait, what? If you think—”

“
Leave
,” Ryker snapped, far too exasperated with this woman to offer even a hint of politeness.

“I’ll call you later,” Jenna promised, nodding subtly toward the door.

“You better,” Kara griped before finally storming off, grumbling under her breath the entire way. The door to the coffee shop slammed shut, the bells still jingling as she vanished around the corner.

Turning his attention back to the witch in question, Ryker plunged his hand deep into his pocket, fingering the slip of parchment that had brought him there. “Care to take this outside?” he asked.

Her doleful eyes roamed his face, a question lit within that he couldn’t quite interpret. “Outside?” she stuttered, peering out into the night’s shadows. “No, no, here’s just fine...I think.”

Ryker’s eyes narrowed, his fingers still fiddling with the slip of paper. Many nights he’d lain awake, imagining this moment and all he’d longed to say to her. Some nights his imagination went so far as to picture him begging for her to return. How quickly that had faded now that they were face-to-face
.
Tonight, only one question remained, and it was one he couldn’t very well ask in public.

“I’m afraid I have to insist,” he replied.

He pressed closer, his eyes fluttering shut as he fought against her sweet scent. Lord, this wasn’t going to be easy. Even now, after everything, he still wanted her. Before he surrendered to the unrequited need to take her into his arms, he drew the parchment from his jeans and offered it to her, studying her response for any indication of the truth.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her dark lashes fluttering as her gaze dropped. How many times had she seen similar scraps? Hell, she’d been the one to empty his pockets of them when she’d done his laundry. Now, it was her on the other end, her face draining of color the moment she spotted her name scrawled across the paper.

The softest exhale he’d ever heard slipped past her lips, her fingers gripping the counter for balance when she suddenly swayed. An interesting reaction, one he scrutinized for hidden meaning. Her shoulders shifted with her shallow breaths, her sorrowful gaze slowly lifting to his, half-lidded and full of regret. For a moment, it appeared she had something to say, and he waited with bated breath. But not even a whispered denial graced her pale lips—no plea of forgiveness, no cry for mercy, nothing but a single tear rolling down her soft cheek. And then she was gone, her balance off-kilter as she fled the coffee shop.

Ryker didn’t want to admit how much that stung. Part of him had believed the Church couldn’t possibly have it right this time. He’d come with the hope that she could somehow prove them wrong, but he’d also prepared himself for the worst. And it seemed the worst had indeed occurred.

Unable to process everything, he stood silently by, watching as her slim frame wobbled around the corner.

“She ran,” he whispered to himself.

She
was
guilty.

Heart sinking into his stomach, he stared blankly into the direction she’d disappeared. The Church was right. From here, there was only one solution, one outcome. And while he knew his brothers would do this willingly for him, the thought of handing her over to them was devastating.

No
, if anyone was going to do this, it was him. It would destroy something within him, but it was still his responsibility.
She
was his responsibility and no one else’s.

* * *

The moment he ran out of the coffee shop, he was hit with a cold splatter, drops of rain sliding down his face. After wiping the moisture from his eyes with the back of his hand, he paused and took a knee in a gathering puddle, freeing his blade from one ankle sheath, and his cross from the other.

His fingers trembled against the hilt. No matter what he told himself, this was
not
a typical hunt. He couldn’t imagine how it would feel to plunge his silver dagger hilt-deep into her heart, nor did he want to. It was an image he’d blocked from his mind, though now it assaulted his thoughts, shattering his confidence.

Pressing the back of his free hand against his mouth, he took a moment, his unsteady breath steaming into the chilled night air. He could do this. He
could.
He just had to keep telling himself that. Weakness had no place in his world. These creatures fed on it, used the hunter’s vulnerabilities to their advantage. He had to push aside all memories of her and focus solely on the job. Later he could mourn, but right now he had to concentrate. He repeated that over and over in his head as he loosed and brandished his iron cross. His purpose was righteous, his intent solid.

Or so he thought.

That was when he caught wind of quiet sobs coming from around the corner.

Determination wavering, he rose from the puddle, his blade glinting in the pale light of a streetlamp. He closed in on that direction, his scarred hiking boots splashing in the rippling puddles. Without a doubt, he knew it was Jenna weeping, and the sound gutted him. Tears...they’d always been a weakness of his when it came to women. What man knew how to handle a crying female? Even one who was a witch.

A voice echoed in his head that it was a ploy, a trick to lower his guard so Jenna could kill him first. His shoulder still ached with the memory of the same scheme only two nights ago.

Hiccups followed soon after, and, groaning, Ryker’s head dropped, his dripping hair falling over his brow. Evil,
evil
creatures, women were. This wasn’t the first time he’d come across a female weeping for her life, but this one was different. He could hear it in her panicked gasps.

What he loathed more than anything was this incessant need to comfort her. Blade in one hand, cross in the other, and all he wanted was to drop them both and take her into his arms. He wanted to promise her that nothing bad would happen, that he would keep her safe. But he couldn’t make such assurances, not when
he
was the one hunting her. And he couldn’t return home until the task was done.

So, then why were his steps slowing? And why was he lowering his dagger?

Raging under his breath, he submitted to his insecurities. Sliding his dagger into the sleeve of his jacket and pocketing the cross, he took the corner, his eyes widening from the most astounding sight.

Sopping wet from more than just the rain, Jenna sat in a dark corner of the alley, rocking back and forth. Head bowed, knees drawn into her chest, she attempted to suck in a composed breath.

Two tiny fists pressed into her temples as rushed words fell from her lips. For a moment, fear lit within him—was she casting a spell? Damning him in some fashion? Stooping low, he was about to snatch his dagger when her words finally sank in.

“This isn’t happening.” The dark mantra rushed past her lips. “This isn’t happening. I’m not one of them, I’m not, I’m
not.
”

Something in Ryker softened, his anger washing away with the rain. He’d never given thought to Jenna’s suffering, never imagined that this was a plague upon her. He’d assumed she’d always known, that she’d been playing him as a fool. But the sight before him suggested otherwise, and with the realization that everything was not as he thought, his shoulders loosened.

He knew it changed nothing. She was exactly what the Church proclaimed. He could see it now with the flickers of energy sparking in a furious red glow over her hands.
An elemental
, he realized as he watched the fire consume her, unhampered by the rain. She was still a witch, but now he found in himself a need to understand what was happening. Her magic seemed uncontrolled, the flames flickering erratically to the beat of her sobs. Perhaps things weren’t as complicated as he’d originally believed.

Amazement unfurled within him as he witnessed exactly what it was she was capable of. But no matter what threats he uttered to himself, he knew he couldn’t harm her. Standing in the rain, watching as she wept piteously for a fate she had no control over, he realized he never could.

Resigned, he crouched next to her, one arm snaking around her back as the other slipped below her knees. The fire snuffed out the moment he lifted her, as though extinguished by a mere thought. While stunned by her skills, it was nothing compared to the feel of her nuzzling into his chest, giving in without a fight and trusting him even though she knew why he’d come.

Ryker had no idea what he was doing; all he knew was that he couldn’t leave her like that in the alleyway. Whatever else she was, she was still his Jenna.

Chapter Four

Jenna was aware of little beyond the hard press of Ryker’s chest. Weightless, she felt as though the burdens she carried meant nothing in his arms.

For two years, she’d forced him from her thoughts, convinced herself that what she’d done was right. That voice was quiet now, dimmer in the presence of her confusion. His embrace was so gentle, yet protective—it brought up memories she’d believed forgotten.

As he walked, she closed her eyes and drew in a steady breath, his earthy scent sinking deep into her lungs. They were playing with fire, there was no doubt of that, tempting the fates that had brought them together one final time.

With one last lingering glance, his arms shifted and he began to lower her. Her heels sank into the damp earth as her fingers trailed over his chest. It was hard to ignore that they stood flush against one another—the heat of his body, his overwhelming presence, it all muddled her thoughts. She could barely string two thoughts together, let alone understand the many questions within his stormy eyes.

Back in the alley, she’d fallen to pieces. The shock of seeing him and the realization that her world was ending had compelled her to run—not that she’d made it very far. Her emotions had consumed her, and with her breakdown had come the flames. It’d taken every ounce of will to tamp them back, until she’d felt him round the corner. The flash of his blade, the sight of his cross, and the blaze had spread. Only his touch had offered her control, and she’d taken it.

“How are you feeling?” he questioned.

Clearing her throat, she nodded mutely and took a moment to glance around. Somehow, he’d found where she lived. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised; Ryker had always taken his job seriously. That he’d willingly sheathed his blade and brought her home, however, was beyond stunning.

“Good,” he murmured as he pushed forward and knelt in her garden bed.

Blinking, Jenna watched him fish her spare key out from her hidden hollow rock.

As he rose, he crooked a glance back over his shoulder, his lips tugging into a small smile. “Guess some things don’t change,” he mused, his steps quiet against her sagging stoop as he approached her door.

Jenna held her silence, unsure of what to say. Did he actually expect her to follow him inside? Her eyes skipped past his large frame hovering in her doorway to the shadows beyond. It wasn’t the darkness she feared, and from the cocky glint in his eyes, he knew that.

“Coming, dear?” he quipped, the corners of his mouth twitching with private humor.

Cursing under her breath, her fingers smoothed the creases from her brow. This was insane. She’d have to be mad to willingly saunter inside; he was here to kill her, for goodness’ sake! Pulling her gaze back to him, she skimmed his brawny length until her eyes settled on the notched pommel jutting out of his unlaced boots.

“Just to talk,” he assured her, one brow rising in silent challenge.

Exhaling, she braved those final steps and climbed her porch, slowing with every step as she neared him. The thought of brushing against him made her fingers tingle—fingers she wanted to plunge into his silken hair. She forced herself to slip past him and jumped when the click of the door echoed through her entire stead.

“So, this is home now,” he commented idly when their shoulders brushed.

Jenna’s eyes slipped shut as she fought not to move away. Knowing she was still attracted to him was one thing, having him know it was entirely different. She didn’t want him to know that she still cared, that being in his presence was intoxicating. The sordid thoughts running through her head were torture enough. For some reason, all she could picture was his body stretched over hers in front of her cozy fireplace. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have thought her body was trying to tell her something. Perhaps it believed two years was long enough.

“Not bad,” he continued, his rich voice snapping her gaze away from the hearth.

If he understood the direction of her thoughts, he gave no indication. As it was, her cheeks flushed with heat, her eyes darting to the floor as she scuffed her toe against the hardwood.

“Could use a little sprucing up,” he chattered aimlessly, resorting to the Bennett humor she’d come to know so well—a means of evading their true emotions. “Then again, you weren’t entirely the homey type. Your walls could use a little love.”

Snorting under her breath, Jenna broke her silence. “Just because I don’t have medieval crossbows or the sword of Arthur Pendragon tacked up somewhere doesn’t make my walls boring.”

Turning, he caught her eye, his one shoulder rising in a maddeningly masculine way. “Actually, it kind of does.”

She couldn’t bite back her low chuckle. “So sorry. Next time I’ll try to put out flowers or something.”

Sighing, he cocked a hip against her wall, his arms crossing over his chest. “Next time...” he muttered, dragging a hand through his mussed blond hair. “About that...”

Ah
,
here it comes.

With a steadying breath, Jenna smoothed her clammy palms down her damp sundress and faced him straight on. After the debacle in the alley, she would do it right this time. Neither her mother nor her grandmother had begged for their lives, so neither would she.

“If you wanted to kill me, don’t you think you would have already?” she challenged. “You could have done it without me ever knowing.”

A flash of anger whipped across his face. “Jenna,” he growled, his voice as dark as night. “I need you to help me understand.”

“Understand what?”

His shoulders tightened. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe like how long you’ve had magic? Or we
could
start with you telling me who you’re gathering intel of my family for.”

Her chin snapped up, fury surging through her veins. Skin hot, she felt her magic awaken with a reckoning force. “What?”

“Didn’t think we’d eventually find out?” he sniped. “Why did you do it? Was it all just some game to you? I...just need to know before...before—”

“You kill me?” She finished his sentence, eyes tapering with challenge. The rage within fed her strength, tendrils of heat snaking through her fingers. “You can try.”

His gaze slipped down the length of her body until it settled on her hands. His eyes flashed with pain, dampening his temper. “Jenna, just tell me how long you’ve known.”

The desperation in his voice broke something within her. Trying to see it from his side, she understood the source of his fury. But anger wouldn’t help either of them. With a sigh, her magic went dormant and she slumped against the wall, the palms of her sizzling hands cradling her cheeks. “Two years,” she finally whispered. “And truth be told, it’s been the longest two years of my life.”

“Two years...” Ryker whispered, pushing off the wall. She knew the moment he entered her personal space, her heart thudding anxiously as she glanced everywhere but at him. “But—”

“You were out with your brothers, hunting some vampire nest,” she started, her eyes closing as she uttered the words. “That night I had the most vivid dreams. I saw my mother, crying for me. No matter how hard I searched, I never found her. Always just out of reach.” Jenna’s voice broke, and swallowing, she reigned her emotions in. “In the shadows was a figure...I can still hear their laughter. I watched as my mother, a powerful earth witch, called her magic to life. She and my grandmother fought relentlessly, only to be struck down in the end.” Pausing, she drew in a stuttered breath. “I’d thought it was just a dream, until I woke with fire coursing through my veins.”

“Your mother...” Ryker repeated, his grief overshadowing his ability to understand everything she’d shared.

“It was the week of my twenty-fifth birthday, the customary age for a witch to come into her power. Only, no one had told me my family had magic. My mother knew who you were the moment she first set eyes on that mark of yours. The Cross of Bennett,” she jeered, her lips curling back, “is very well known in the preternatural world. I don’t know what she’d been thinking, but apparently she felt she couldn’t tell me with you so ingrained in my life, and she paid the price for that.”

“Wait,” Ryker demanded, his voice heated. “You blame me for this?”

“No.” Jenna gave a bitter laugh, suddenly too tired to care. Her mother and grandmother had died keeping this secret from her, and now she was alone with no knowledge of how to control it. “I blame
me.
I should have known, and if I had, maybe we could have better prepared for it. I still don’t know who killed them, but somehow their murderer knew that when I came into my power, they’d be at their weakest. They were well prepared, and I had to watch as that bastard—” Her voice trembled, her chin quivering. “As that bastard murdered them both. For these two years, I’ve lived in fear that the hunter might come back for me. For all I know, it was one of your brothers that did this.”

“Jenna—”

“I spent hours trying to reach them, Ryker. I thought it was just a horrible nightmare. But when I finally got here, when I walked in...I found them...”

Jenna faltered, her words dying on her lips as she remembered the sight that to this day still haunted her. She was a librarian, her days spent hiding among dusty books. What did she know about real-life murder and magic?

“Do you know what my first thought was when I woke up, though?” she whispered, her eyes opening as she pinned him with a firm stare.

His throat worked as he struggled to swallow, but eventually he shook his head.

“You.” She laughed under her breath. “What this would do to you, loving someone as tainted as the creatures you hunt. I knew then I had to leave.”

“Jenna...” Ryker breathed. “Why didn’t you—”

“So help me, if you ask why I didn’t come to you...” She shook her head. “The only person I wanted was my mom, but she died protecting me from people like you.”

* * *

The words did more than sting, they downright burned.

This wasn’t right. Ryker should have felt relieved that there were two fewer witches in the world, and soon to be a third. Instead, he felt only sorrow. Everything she’d gone through, and he’d never known.

Not for the first time, he reminded himself that he couldn’t allow his emotions to sway him. But how could he not? He wasn’t some cold, unforgiving bastard. He was a hunter. And there was a difference between the two.

“All right,” he murmured, his shoulders deflating.

Unsure of what more to say, she surprised him when she lifted her chin, an oddly determined look brightening her face. “I-I don’t regret what I did,” she whispered, changing the topic to the one thing both wished to speak about. “But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Taken aback, Ryker straightened, blinking as he watched her. Well hell, that didn’t help soothe his conflicted emotions the slightest bit. Scratching his jaw, he turned his back to her, needing distance to sort himself out. His mind was in disarray, his thoughts unfathomable; he could hardly hear them above the pounding of his heart. Here he stood in Jenna’s house, and damn, did it take him back to happier times. Her style remained the same, from the floral-scented air to the intimate glow of her salt lamps. His head was full of her, and he just needed to clear it.

“Ryker.” His name fell from her lips in a plea, and his jaw tightened as he struggled to control himself.

He knew it was a mistake the moment he turned back to her, but he seemed unable to stop his feet. So innocent, so scared, she was nothing like the creatures he hunted. Even now, he saw no darkness within her. No bloodlust, no thirst for power or death. She was nothing more than an anxious woman who knew exactly what the world now held in store for her.

Her warm eyes caught his, welling with shimmering tears. Cursing, Ryker crossed the room, closing the distance between them in two large steps. He had no idea what he was doing—his heart was calling the shots. Part of him expected resistance when he took her into his arms, but Jenna had always thrown him for a loop. After a choked breath, she melted into his chest, her head nestled beneath his chin.

Eyes fluttering shut, Ryker’s teeth tore into his bottom lip as he drew in the scent of fresh rain and the lingering scent of her shampoo. How he’d missed this, the intimate feel of her in his arms, the warm press of her body. Silencing his doubts, he threaded his fingers through her damp hair, cupping the back of her neck. Her flesh was as soft and supple as he remembered, and when her skin puckered from his touch, he bit back a groan.

For a brief moment, his head took charge, reminding him of the hidden blade sheathed against his wrist. It wouldn’t take much, a subtle shift and the edge would pierce the base of her neck. A small pinch, a slight pain, and it’d be over. It was the best he could offer.

And for the first time ever, he hated being a hunter.

As though sensing his internal conflict, Jenna tipped her head back, cold acceptance hardening her eyes. “Do it,” she murmured, surprising them both.

Ryker’s breath quickened as he fought against his own tears threatening to spring to the surface. She couldn’t actually mean it...could she?

“Do it,” she repeated in a softer voice, her dark lashes fanning against her ivory cheeks.

He couldn’t think with her desirable body pressed firmly against him, or his heart and head warring against one another. Never had he been so confused. Since he’d begun training, he’d known his duty. He’d spoken the words aloud, vowing to the Church that he would join his brothers and fight to put an end to darkness. But
was
Jenna darkness? To him, she was light. She was everything he loved in the world. It didn’t matter that they’d been apart for so long, she would always be everything he desired. Was that truly so evil?

His gaze dropped to her parted lips. He remembered how soft and warm they could be, how her smile could light up a room; he couldn’t bear the thought of ending something so perfect.

“Ryker,” she whispered, the sweet scent of her breath stunning him. “Please.”

Somehow, he knew she was referring to him kissing her. And he wasn’t sure that one little word was enough to convince him not to. Swallowing, he braved meeting her gaze once more. If she didn’t want him to kiss her, he swore he wouldn’t do it. But what he saw in her eyes was anything but reproach. Heat sizzled beneath her skin, her eyes snapping with lust. She wanted him as much as he did her, and there was no way he could walk away from that. Growling under his breath, Ryker dropped down and claimed her mouth with a searing kiss.