Night Hunt Ch. 11

Dear Literotica Readers, thanks for all your votes, comments, and encouragement! Your support has really kept me going with this story. Please continue to send me feedback as it helps me learn as I go! Or, let me know what you enjoy!

I couldn't resist adding Connor's p.o.v. this round. Let me know what you think!

For those new to this story, please start from the beginning, as the chapters really do not stand alone. Happy reading!

****

Connor flashed a look of annoyance at Sam as she paced the tiny room, engrossed in her phone conversation. He still was having trouble understanding how they'd ended up sleeping on the same bed. Tyrus really owed him one this time.

The elf was in the middle of a nauseating conversation with her boyfriend, the incaendo demon. He was telling her, in graphic detail, what she should do when they met up again. A faint scent of female arousal drifted through the air. Connor coughed loudly.

Angry green eyes glared back at him.

"What's your problem?" She mouthed.

"Werewolf hearing, remember?" He hissed, pointing to his ear to emphasise his point. "I can hear. Every. Word."

She rolled her eyes, not even having the decency to look embarrassed. "Fine," she mouthed again. "Hold on a sec," she said to her phone, "there's a fly in the room and it's driving me nuts. I'm stepping out."

A haze of red blurred his vision momentarily. A fly! The nerve of this woman. He barred his teeth at her, barely biting back a snarl as he watched her walk out of the room.

The moment the door slammed shut, Connor felt the muscles in his body unclench. He grunted as he reached down to adjust his hard dick in his jeans. It wasn't just that he had to share space with an infuriating, insolent elf.

No, it was much worse than that. It was that she smelled of pine and morning dew, the scent of the forest when he woke up after a long night run as wolf. It was a scent he had loved since the first time he had turned, at the first light of dawn, in a place so deep in the forest, no human had ever set foot in it.

It was a sacred scent, a scent of freedom, oneness, and peace. And by some unfathomable decision of the fates, or twist of nature, or the devil himself, it was also her scent.

He growled, forcing his wolf down. The beast had been prowling, pushing as close as it could to the surface beneath his skin, as it always did around Sam. It wanted her. His wolf had never cared if a female was human, werewolf, or the sworn enemy of his species. As long as she had two legs and a skirt, his wolf would screw it. And this one smelled like Christmas morning.

Usually, he was no different. He had needs, and to him, lust was an uncomplicated thing. He liked sex with his supper, and he had it in large quantities, and often. He even took it upon himself to sate the needs of the unmated females in his pack, whenever they were in heat. It was simple. You have an itch, go to Connor, no strings attached, no questions asked.

In fact, he was supposed to have gotten laid last night, at the club. He'd had a dry spell, having gotten caught up with work for the pack, and had called Tyrus out as his wingman for what should have been a night of epic fucking.

Who would have known that the jackass already had himself wrapped around a female's pinky, and would go running headfirst into the biggest shitload of trouble for her. He'd spent the night worrying about his friend, his mood sunk, dreading news that his old friend had been killed by the Governance.

Now, after a long day trapped in a car with that stupid scent messing with his head, his wolf demanded what it was meant to have had last night. He had no way to oblige, given that he was stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no available females in sight. None, except for one tiny blonde with a massively aggravating attitude.

Connor huffed in annoyance. No way would he ever consider tapping that. He shoved that thought at his wolf, forcing it deeper into his subconscious until it rolled its eyes and stalked off to wherever it went when his human side was in charge.

Good. He eyed the door warily, but it stayed shut. The faint sound of Sam's voice was barely audible when he strained his ears. He should have time for a quick wank, a cold, cold shower, and some shut-eye.

****

Tyrus stared at Anya's back, taking in the scent of her hair, and the womanly curve of her hips. He reached out, letting his hand trail along the nape of her neck. His long fingers wrapped around her throat, whilst his other hand grabbed her around the waist, pressing her against his body. Involuntarily, his incisors lengthened into lethal fangs.

Anya relaxed, her body going soft. Just when he began to ease up, she tensed. She shifted her weight abruptly, causing his hold to loosen enough for her to spin around. An invisible force blasted at him, knocking him backwards for a split second. Not wasting any time, she broke free of him, and raised a knee towards his groin. He blocked it effortlessly before it connected with its target.

"Good. Now again, faster."

She allowed herself a brief smile, before turning around again to resume their practice.

Their training was going better than he expected. It turned out, what Anya could do with her mind was not unlike what he had started out with, when he had just become a vampire. With some concentration and practice, she could now throw off his mind-hold in a couple of seconds. She could also push him back a couple of paces with her talent. Not enough to really hold back an experienced vampire, but maybe enough to gain the advantage of surprise and escape.

They had since moved on to some self-defence lessons. He'd shown her the quickest ways to cause pain to an attacker, and how to get out of a few difficult situations, if held down. It made him feel a lot safer to know that she could fight back if needed.

She was a quick study, and was relentless in her training. Anya was nothing short of amazing. He'd caught the determined look on her face as they practiced. It reminded him of his younger self, when he'd sought everything he could learn from Satine.

When faced with the increasing challenges he threw at her, she continued to meet him with everything she had, even though she was visibly tired. He knew he needed to call it a night soon. She was approaching the limit of her practice and needed to rest.

Once again, he wondered at what she was. If she were a vampire, she would need to feed, even with a cloaking spell. After their training, he was certain that she did not possess the additional strength that supernaturals did. If anything, she was maybe a little more agile than the average human, and a little faster. He had not forgotten that she could heal quickly too, although most supernaturals had that ability.

Since Anya had no traceable lineage or family, there was nothing left to look into. He'd been checking since he'd met her. Her last name, Johnson, had been a generic one given by her orphanage and was a dead end. No one had come looking for her throughout her entire time in foster care. Maraav's own checks had yielded the same results.

Tyrus couldn't help but wonder what circumstances would have led someone to believe that she had a better fighting chance hiding amongst humans. If Katrina couldn't release the cloaking spell, it was unlikely that anyone other than the original spellcaster could. Curious and impatient as he was, his mystery girl would continue to remain a mystery for a while longer.

He did not like having too many unknowns. The trained assassin in him was used to dealing in cold, hard certainty. This whole situation unsettled him, almost as much as his feelings for Anya did. He had never felt so off-balance in his life, and he didn't know what to do about it.

"Hello? Tyrus?" Anya looked up at him, snapping him out of his reverie. She had her hands around his wrists, and he realised she'd managed to gain the upper hand from his distraction.

"We'll stop here. You need to rest for tomorrow. You did well today."

She released his wrists and opened her mouth to protest. He shook his head before she could speak. "You're tired, I can see you slowing down. Your body needs sleep, so you can recharge and train another day. Rest, Anya."

She stared up at him for a moment, then nodded. "Thanks... for teaching me," she said softly, her lips lifting in a shy smile.

For the hundredth time that night, he found himself resisting the urge to kiss her. One look into those big doe-like eyes, and he forgot himself. Earlier that night, she'd looked so happy, her smile illuminating her entire being, that he had lost his self-control. He'd been watching himself since, ensuring that it never happened again. If he had not stopped the kiss, he knew his demon would have taken over, and there'd be no going back.

He knew she had tried to address it, but he had cut her off because he'd been too afraid to hear what she had to say. He could not deal with a repeat of her tears from the morning in the car, right after he'd bared his soul about his past. Why would she ever say what he hoped to hear? He was a ruthless killer with a bloody reputation. He knew what he stood to lose when he told her, and yet, he could never lie to her. Tyrus sighed to himself. He'd never deserved her anyway.

"You're welcome," he replied stiffly. Guilt bled through him. She shouldn't be thanking him. He'd gotten her into this mess, and marked her for goodness' sakes. He was the reason why she even needed him to teach her anything. He turned away before she could say more, leaving her standing where she was.

He could feel her eyes on his back but he said nothing. He went to his bag, pretending to be busy with something, willing himself not to turn around. He almost heard her sigh as she turned and headed for the bathroom. A couple of minutes later, the shower came on.

Tyrus changed quickly and lay down on his side of the bed. When she re-emerged, smelling of shampoo, the scent of his mark still strong on her, he was deep in feigned sleep, confrontation avoided. He stayed awake long after her breathing took on the gentle rhythm of deep sleep.

****

Connor was having the sweetest wet dream. He had his arms wrapped around the soft, yielding body of a woman. He buried his face into the enticing groove where her neck met her shoulder. His lips brushed softly against hot skin.

He pushed a leg up between hers, separating her thighs as he ground his erection against her ass. She responded by rocking herself slowly against him. Pleasure sparked in his groin, stoking a slow burning flame. Ah, bliss. A soft groan escaped his lips.

Her answering moan caused his dick to twitch as he moved against her. He let his hand wander up her body, until he was palming her breast over the soft cotton of her tshirt. The supple bead of her nipple hardened to his touch.

"Mmm baby," He murmured.

She tensed at the sound of his voice. He froze at the same moment, his senses finally waking up his sleep-addled brain, kicking him fully awake. It was pine and morning dew he scented. This was not a dream.

They jumped out of the bed at the same time, from opposite sides. He'd never disentangled himself from a female's body so fast.

Green eyes glared at him accusingly

"I didn't kn-" he choked.

"What th-" Sam began at the same time.

They paused, staring at each other. Her eyes were wide, mouth gaping open in disbelief. She had her hands in fists, curled tight at her side. He was pretty sure that if he had a mirror right now, he'd look exactly the same way.

"Speak of this to anyone and I'll kill you," Sam grinded out, her face pale.

"Ditto," he replied gruffly, wishing he'd been the first one to say it. He'd rather die than have her think he would actually have sex with her.

The tips of her ears were peeking out from her hair. They were pointed. Connor blinked. He'd ever noticed them before. She must have always worn her hair in a way that covered the little elf trait.

His wolf looked out through his eyes, chuffing in amusement. It took in the hard nipples pushing against her disheveled black band tshirt, the tiny pink sleep shorts she wore, no doubt damp from their brief humping, and the bed-tousled mess of her long blonde hair. It liked what it saw.

Sam's eyes narrowed as she folded her arms over her chest, head cocked to the side. He realised he'd been looking for too long. He quickly darted his gaze upwards, letting it rest on the spot between her eyes.

Just at the same time, her gaze flickered down to his boxers and her eyes widened slightly. Fuck. She quickly looked away, schooling her expression, but he'd already noticed the blush that had started creeping across her cheeks.

Connor opened his mouth to speak again, but it had suddenly gone dry. This was not happening. He twisted around so his back was to her, scanning the room for his jeans. When he saw them, tossed on the floor where he'd left them, he lunged forwards and yanked them on as quickly as he could.

"This never happened," he growled, still turned away from Sam.

"What never happened?" She chimed in instantly.

"Yeah, let's keep it that way. Stay here. I'll fix this."

He peeled off his sleep shirt and hurriedly threw on a fresh one from his duffle. Before she could say another word, he'd stormed out the door.

It only took a few seconds to cross over to the room that Tyrus and Anya shared. He belatedly realised that he'd been so freaked, he'd crossed the distance in wolf speed, without checking for witnesses. Thankfully, a quick sniff told him there were none around.

"Tyrus!" He bellowed, rapping hard on the solid wooden door. He had to remind himself not to break it down in his anger.

He prepared a deep breath, ready to call out again, but the door swung open.

"Calm yourself, Connor. You'll wake everyone on this floor." Tyrus sidled out, shutting the door silently behind him.

"I'll bloody calm down when you bloody get rid of that elf!"

Tyrus didn't answer. Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. His brow rose in a smooth arch. Damn the stoic bastard.

"Why is Sam's scent all over you?"

Connor stilled.

"It's not what it looks like," he grunted, caught off-guard.

Tyrus merely cocked his head to the side. "She's old enough to make her own decisions. It's been a long time since I was her keeper."

"I said that's not what bloody happened!"

"Really? I'm no wolf, but I do know what female arousal smells like. And it's all over you." There was no accusation in Tyrus' tone, only a mild curiosity.

Connor ground his teeth until his jaw hurt. He drew a deep breath. Then something occurred to him. "I know what female arousal smells like too, and you don't smell like you've been fucking Anya."

Tyrus looked at Connor coolly, his face giving away nothing. "And that's a problem because...? I told you I wasn't going to sleep with her last night."

"This is bullshit! I thought you dragged us all out here, because you tapped that ass one too many times and failed to wipe her memory. I thought you risked your death, and hers, because you couldn't bloody learn to bloody keep away from her.

"What now? Have you two broken up? Have I come all this way, and put up with that prissy elf for twenty four hours, for a little whim of yours?"

Connor's reflexes registered Tyrus' fist in the knick of time. He dodged, feeling the whiz of air at his temple as Tyrus failed to connect. Barely.

"What I do or don't do with Anya is none of your fucking business," Tyrus said quietly, a warning laced in his tone.

Connor ignored it. "It becomes my business when you lose your mind and throw away your life for a bloody chick. After you went off in the club, I didn't even know if you were alive or dead!"

Until he'd said the words out loud, he hadn't realised how much it had bothered him that he'd almost lost his friend the night before. Tyrus hissed, and Connor thought he saw a flash of fangs. Then he saw the look in Connor's eyes and something like an apology crossed his face.

"It's complicated."

Connor waited for Tyrus to elaborate. Seconds ticked past. Neither of them moved.

Tyrus sighed, looking away first. "We're really going to talk about this?" He looked uncomfortable.

There was another long pause, then, "I think I'm falling in lo-"

Connor felt a surge of horror rising in him. "Ack! Don't fucking throw the L-word at me! You know how I feel about it. I never thought I'd ever hear it from you! You of all people! You should know better."

To his relief, Tyrus did shut up for a moment. Then he frowned. "Doesn't your species mate for life?"

Connor shuddered. "What? You think I buy into that soulmate crap? Those damned humans and their stories have that one screwed up. Sure, some wolves find a mate that they're happy to spend the rest of their lives with. But many wolves go through life never finding a mate too. No mate has come for me in the last eighty years. I don't think there is a female out there waiting for me, who is going to be The One. And I enjoy women, plural. Why have one when you can have many? If you ask me-"

A female voice cut him off, "What are you fucking talking about? Men! Tyrus, tell me you don't believe in Connor's shit too."

Connor rolled his eyes, feeling a familiar tightness return to his neck and shoulders. He didn't even bother to turn around to glare at Sam. A growl escaped his chest.

"What are you doing here?" He should have known that she'd never listen to a request to stay put.

"What, I'm supposed to leave you alone to fix this mess we're in?" The elf replied indignantly, "it's a good thing I came out here when I did! You wouldn't know a thing about soulmates, or love."

"You'd call that fling you're having with your boyfriend love? Trust me on this one, you're not the only one he's sleeping with. I know incaendos, and I've never met one who's been monogamous. I have a fair handful of female incaendos on my call list who can attest to that."

He saw Tyrus flash him a warning look.

"What? As if you're not thinking that too," Connor muttered.

Sam stepped in front of him, standing so close that their noses almost touched, her green eyes iridescent. "A relationship takes trust. Enrique would never lie to me. Believe whatever you want, I don't have to prove myself to you. You're a werewolf who doesn't believe in a lifelong mate. Enough said. Tyrus, you and Anya have something worth exploring. Don't let bozo here tell you otherwise."

"I wasn't about to," Tyrus murmured softly, narrowed eyes regarding Sam, then Connor. "This conversation is not at all what I expected to have this morning. Connor, say what it is you came here to tell me before we got so grievously sidetracked."

Connor knew the topic of what Anya meant to Tyrus was closed for now, and would not be easily revisited. He wondered what was going through the vampire's mind. He could still scent himself on Sam, and knew that Tyrus could too. Mercifully, his friend chose not to mention it.

"I'm riding with you and Anya today." He pushed on before Tyrus could open his mouth, "you cannot expect me to spend another day in a car alone with her." He jerked his head at Sam.

"I'll play nice when we hit Creeksville, but not a moment sooner. Just a day for some fucking space, that's all I'm asking."

Tyrus looked to Conner, then Sam. He gave a curt nod, "very well. But you'll keep your mouth shut about Anya, or we don't have a deal."

"Understood," Connor replied, relief flooding him.

"That's settled then," Sam quipped brightly, "I'll see you two at the next pit stop."

She turned on her heel and walked off, a bounce in her step. Connor shook his head, but he couldn't hide the smile on his face. He even let his wolf ogle Sam's ass in her tight skinny jeans. She didn't look to bad... from behind.