Night Hunt Ch. 16

Hi readers! I took a lot longer writing this chapter than I intended, due to some major life changes (all is well, and I'm doing great so don't worry). Thank you for your patience! I'm hoping this story will wrap up with just one more chapter. I can't promise when it will be out, but I will commit to finishing it no matter how long it takes. To those who have been with me from the beginning, and those who have joined along the way, thanks for sticking with me!

Enjoy! XOXO

****

Anya stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows of Tyrus' apartment. She loved how the windows took up a whole wall in his living room, opening to the magnificent view. City lights glimmered in the night, beckoning. From up here, you'd never see the city grime and the things that lay hidden in alleys. Instead, the world lay spread out, dark and beautiful, full of possibility.

Hands reached for her, wrapping around her until she felt the familiar weight of Tyrus' chin brushing against the top of her head. He was bare-chested, fresh from a shower. She leaned back against his damp skin, enjoying the feel of his hard, sculpted body against her back.

"Penny for your thoughts, love?" His deep voice rumbled gently against her back, slipping through their comfortable silence. He playfully nipped at her ear, then nuzzled his lips against her temple.

Anya couldn't help but lean back into his embrace, lulled by the still-unfamiliar feeling of contentment. She'd never known that being with someone could feel like this. She'd gotten used to keeping her distance.

For so many years, she'd been alone. Unwanted even, and bounced around foster homes more times than she'd cared to admit. She'd gone through it for so long that she'd learnt to avoid giving a part of herself to anyone, not even her exes. Lara had been the only exception, and her world had nearly fallen apart when Lara left.

She wriggled out of Tyrus' grasp and turned around to face him. He obliged her, drawing her back into him once she had turned her body. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, and he lowered his to press his lips against her own.

Everything fell away as she met his kiss. Her fingers curled into the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling him closer. She stepped off a ledge, free-falling into an infinite abyss, knowing only the feel of his hot lips and tongue and her body pressed against his. When they stopped, she opened her eyes, surprised to find herself still intact. It was like this every single time.

Tyrus looked back at her with heavy-lidded eyes and his usual sensual smile. She bit her lip when she caught the lust in his gaze. His hands slid down to cup her ass, pulling her tight against his groin. He gave her a playful grope as he rocked against her, the evidence of his desire obvious through his jeans.

"I should have said, a kiss for your thoughts. Or would you like me to make you an even better offer?"

He wiggled his eyebrows at her. She let out a surprised laugh. "You're insatiable! We just did it this morning... and last night."

"What can I say? I've missed having you all to myself," he replied with a wink.

As ridiculous as it was, she felt herself dampening. It didn't matter how many times they did it. She wanted him again, too. Always.

For the past week since they'd been back, Tyrus had been busy working for the Governance. He'd had to go through two more rounds of debriefs, then provide formal reports for their time at Creeksville. After that, he'd spent some time helping their squad with their investigative work. The tech team had found evidence that Morneau was working within a much larger network of rebels, but they couldn't pinpoint the leader.

It meant that trouble was brewing, and the situation was much worse than they'd originally thought. They had no idea how many other small towns like Creeksville were breeding grounds for new vampires. Every morning, Tyrus left for the office, and only came back in the evenings. With each day that passed, he looked more and more worried. Something big was coming, and likely soon.

Lara had come by most days, once she had sorted things out in her own town and moved back into the city. She split herself between working for the Governance, and taking over Tyrus' training. For four hours each day, Anya was driven to the brink of collapse as Lara explored the extent of her powers, and taught her new fighting techniques. Anya kept up her efforts, determined to gain as much ground as she could. Lara drove her hard, but Anya was starting to see the efforts pay off.

Anya also saw Sam whenever she came by to clean Tyrus' house, and the two talked as Sam worked. Anya helped with the cleaning too, despite Sam's objections that Tyrus only paid her and not Anya to do the housekeeping. They were becoming fast friends, with Sam's easy-going nature and wicked sense of humour.

At night though, she had Tyrus. They'd have dinner and talk, about everything and nothing at all. They did mundane things like watch Netflix together on his couch. When it was time for bed, they spent hours making love, until she couldn't go on any longer and fell asleep, thoroughly sated.

"So? Are you going to tell me what's running through that pretty head of yours?" Tyrus prompted, his fingers toying absently with the hem of the short sundress she'd chosen to wear today.

"It's nothing... it's just, I'm happy," she murmured.

She reached for another kiss, knowing that each time, her heart was becoming less and less her own. As afraid as she was to let her feelings for Tyrus grow, she couldn't help it. It was obvious that Tyrus was way out of her league, and she was greedily sucking up every bit of him that she could get, before he too realised it.

A part of her, the part that fought to keep her heart intact, wondered what would happen when she grew old, and he stayed young and immortal. Would he tire of her then? There certainly was no shortage of beautiful women in the supernatural world. How could she expect him to keep his interest in her? She knew the answer to that. She didn't want to face it now, so she brushed the sinking feeling aside and buried herself deeper into their kiss.

Tyrus growled, meeting her with equal passion, pulling her closer, until she was nothing but a melted puddle of goo. When they finally pulled apart, his eyes glowed amber.

"You know," he said after a pause, "your mark is fading again."

"Already?" She asked. She'd taken his blood again when they'd gotten back to the city. That had resulted in quite a bit of action over the following couple of days.

"It's been five days since the last time. My mark on you seems to fade pretty quickly, perhaps because of your heritage." He looked at her, hesitating.

She stood still, giving him time to work up to what he wanted to say.

"We're leaving for your father's ball tomorrow. We need to make sure your mark is strong, so nobody will question who you are. As much as I hate it, they need to think you're my slave."

Anya swallowed nervously. She was meeting her father soon. She had no idea what to expect, or how he'd react to Tyrus claiming his only daughter. Not to mention the fact that he had gone through so much effort to keep Anya hidden and protected, only to have Tyrus bring her into this world in the end. She knew Tyrus was worried about it too. They'd discussed it a couple of times.

Lara had reassured them that she'd brought King Primakov up to date with everything, including how Tyrus had saved Anya's life in Le Bastille. She might have ended up dead if she'd never met Tyrus. Besides, being a 'slave' allowed her to finally meet her father, without raising suspicion of any link between Anya and her the vampire king.

However, Anya couldn't help but wonder if her father could really forgive Tyrus for his actions. Somehow, she didn't think the vampire world held a lot of mercy.

"I still can't believe I'm finally going to meet my father," she said with a shake of her head.

Tyrus reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. The movement was so tender, she blinked up in surprise. Tyrus looked at her with a serious expression on his face. "He's going to love you."

She swallowed. Maybe she was imagining it, but it felt like he was saying a lot more with the look in his eyes.

"So, the mark," she started, but her voice came out barely a whisper. She cleared her throat and started again. "Are you going to mark me again, Tyrus?"

His grinned, nodding, breaking the spell. Or maybe she really had imagined the moment. She shook off her uncertainty and grinned back.

"How do you feel about refreshing that mark... right now?" He asked, his voice doing that low and throaty thing that never failed to melt her panties right off.

"What are you waiting for?" She asked, a quiver of anticipation running through her body.

He moved with superhuman speed, and within seconds, she found herself standing at his kitchen counter, holding a glass of warm vampire blood. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she raised it to her lips and downed it without apprehension.

"Damn," He rasped as she felt her body thrum with sudden, all-consuming desire.

She was on fire, her need tuned in completely to Tyrus. Her nipples pebbled, straining against her bra. More wetness pooled through her panties, saturating them. Her pussy ached, begging to be filled. She blushed as her scent permeated the air. Her skin felt too hot, her clothes too tight.

She peeled off her dress, impatient and wanting. It dropped to the floor, forgotten. Tyrus swept a heated gaze up and down her body. His eyes darkened with intent. He reached around and snapped her bra open in one move. Her breasts sprang free, bouncing in greeting to the cool room air. She arched her back, brazenly pushing them out in invitation.

Then Tyrus was on them, first with his hands, and then with his tongue. Anya moaned and leaned back against the kitchen counter as he paid meticulous attention to each pointed tip, sucking and licking until she was begging for more.

She felt a fang graze her nipple and nearly passed out from the haze of lust that swept through her. He nipped her throat and then leaned in to kiss her, simultaneously scooping her up and seating her on the edge of the kitchen counter.

"I need to have you Anya, right now," he growled as he tugged her panties off her hips and slid them down her legs.

She could only nod, driven speechless with her own need.

"Spread those legs for me," he demanded.

Anya obediently parted them, baring herself to him. It felt so fucking sexy, being naked and spread out on the kitchen counter, watching Tyrus' body clench with need in response. She did that to him. Tyrus dropped his gaze to stare between her thighs and she nearly came just from the hungry way his eyes devoured her.

She took in the sight of his gorgeous body, from his broad shoulders to his rippling abs. She knew what lay beneath the sweats that hung sinfully low on his hips, and she couldn't wait until he lost all his clothing, too. It's all mine, she thought, feeling a wave of exhilaration wash through her.

Wordlessly, Tyrus released his cock from his sweats. He was so hard that it stood flat against his stomach, drawing an impatient moan from her lips. Without hesitation, he stepped between her legs, pulling her hips right to the edge of the counter until she was rubbing her slickness against the tip of his shaft. No matter how much she writhed, he kept only his head at her entrance, teasing her.

"Tyrus... please," she mewled, desperation in her voice.

"Please what, Anya?" He asked innocently.

"Please fuck me. I need your cock inside me now," she demanded breathlessly.

A couple of weeks ago, she would never have imagined herself speaking so brazenly. But Tyrus has awakened something inside her, and his blood stoked her desire to feverish heights.

His eyes glowed amber at her words. With a deep, rattling rumble in his chest, his lips slanted over hers. His kiss was rough, demanding, leaving her no space to breath. Gripping her hips so she couldn't move, he thrust hard into her. Her wet pussy gave no resistance as he slid himself home.

He didn't hold himself back as he pounded hard into her against the cold marble of the counter. She moaned as her nipples dragged against his chest. Her hands slid up and around him, until her nails dug hard into his back. That drove him to thrust into her even more wildly, as a decidedly animalistic snarl escaped his throat.

There was nothing else she could do but hold on. She was reduced to a ball of sensation, unable to think, to speak... to do anything but feel the pleasure that he wrought on her body.

Her first orgasm came so quickly, it caught her unawares. She screamed his name as she shattered. It was so intense, almost too much for her to bear. The only thing keeping her from sliding to the floor was Tyrus' strong arms holding her in place.

He didn't even slow down, continuing his merciless rhythm as he pulled himself back and buried himself to the hilt over and over again. Pleasure overwhelmed her each time his cock moved inside her. She'd barely recovered from the first orgasm when she felt the burn of another one building.

"Fuck Anya, I could lose myself inside you all day," Tyrus grunted into her shoulder as he moved. "Come again for me, baby."

With a hiss, he sank his fangs into her neck. He drank deeply, caught up in his lust. A sudden wave of pleasure sent her over the edge and she spiralled outwards as she came, bucking against him. She felt her walls tightening and spasming around him until he followed her, releasing a raw, male sound against her neck as he came hard inside her.

She kept her arms around him as his thrusts slowed. He released his fangs, lapping his tongue leisurely over the wound to close it. They were pressed up against each other, chests heaving. Every nerve ending in her body tingled. Still, her body begged for more, knowing that they were both not done.

Hours later, Anya lay in Tyrus' bed, feeling him harden against her hip for the ninth - or was that the tenth? - time. He silently turned her to her side and slid into her from behind, hands roving over her breasts and stomach. They rocked together, moaning softly in pleasure, seeking more. Always seeking more.

Anya closed her eyes and tried not to think about how much longer it would all last.

****

Connor lay on his back, wondering how he'd ended up that way. Sam's legs straddled his hips, her arms tangled around his, keeping him from moving. Their faces were so close, he could feel her breath on his neck.

"Got you right where I want you," she said with a satisfied pant.

"Is that right, Princess?" Connor replied. He'd meant to tease her with his question, but his voice came out a lot huskier than he'd intended. Suddenly, he was feeling a whole lot more of... something.

Sam stilled. For a second, he swore he saw what he was feeling reflected in her eyes.

She rolled her eyes and it was gone. "Oh you know what I mean. Get those thoughts of yours out of the gutter. Say it."

He twisted beneath her, trying to shake her off, but her hold stayed firm. He had to know where she'd learnt that from. As always, the pint-sized elf was full of surprises.

"Fine. You. Win." He said through gritted teeth.

"There you go, not so hard now was it?" Sam smirked with satisfaction.

She released him and they both got off the mats. They were in the massive gym that took up the sixth and seventh floors of Le Bastille. Connor's usual gym had closed for renovations, so he'd come here instead. There weren't all that many gyms catered to supernaturals downtown, and he couldn't possibly train in a regular gym. There would have been no way to explain why he was benching ten times his body weight.

Of course, of all the times that he could have picked to go to the gym, he had to pick the time that Sam went. Most supernaturals, being nocturnal, liked to come late at night. Connor preferred the early morning hours, when he usually had the gym to himself. Not the case for this gym though.

This was the third day in a row he'd come here. The first day he'd shown up, he'd found himself jolted by a certain pine and morning dew scent the moment he entered the gym doors. Like magnets, his eyes had been drawn to Sam, running on the gym's treadmill. His body had instantly responded to the sight of her ass in those tight gym leggings and the tiny little sports bra that left not much else to the imagination.

A million thoughts had run through his mind then. Like how the last time he'd seen her, tipsy from the bottle of bourbon they had downed, he'd wanted nothing more than to haul her over his shoulder and drag her to his bed like a caveman. But his wolf had had other plans and thrown a hissy fit.

That was the only explanation he had for his weird behaviour. He didn't know what else could have caused the overwhelming sense of possession that had overcome him then. If not for that, he'd have satisfied his curiosity and scratched that annoying itch with Sam that day.

For reasons he could not explain, he'd wandered over to the treadmill next to hers. She'd glanced at him and not said anything, but the usual push-pull tension was there. He himself had nothing to say, so he'd started running. Then Sam had started running faster, so he'd also picked up his pace.

They didn't stop when the machines hit their maximum speed. Not even when his lungs were on fire and stayed that way for the whole run. Not even when his legs began to feel like they'd give out any moment. He'd coaxed every bit of the endurance his wolf had, because he'd be damned if he lost to Sam. Wolves were not known for their speed, but long distance was right up his alley.

Forty five minutes later, Sam broke first, stepping her feet to the sides of the treadmill and doubling over with heaving gasps. He couldn't stop the victory grin from spreading across his face as he too stopped to take in as much air as he could.

She'd thrown him a sideways glance and given him a small nod of concession. He'd won fair and square and she knew it. They hadn't exchanged any words by the time Sam left for the showers and Connor headed for the weights.

The next day, he'd shown up again at the same time. He had no idea what he was doing, or what he was hoping for, but he just couldn't help himself. He'd found Sam at the start of the gym's huge, custom-made ninja warrior-style obstacle course. Her arms were on her hips as she turned to him, her eyebrows raised in challenge.

Connor remembered the charge of competitiveness that had run through him when he looked at her. That, and a little zing of something else. Something that he didn't care to name. Hell, it probably didn't even have a name. All he knew was that it was time he acknowledged that there really was something going on between the two of them, something perhaps more than just sexual tension. He was ready to explore it, but he had no clue how to approach things with Sam.

He'd walked up to her then, slowly, gratified when he caught the slight hitch in her breath as he drew up beside her and accidentally brushed his arm against hers.

"Rules?" He'd asked.

"First one to the end wins," she'd said simply.

They'd launched themselves at the course simultaneously, competition driving them forward. The course was designed such that there were a number of ways to reach the end, all challenging. She'd chosen the route with the ropes, he'd chosen the elevated platforms, easily leaping over the wide gaps to avoid the twenty foot drop between them.

They kept pace with each other. He sure as hell wasn't giving Sam any chances, and neither did she for him. One moment, it looked like Connor was in the lead. The next, Sam would make some fancy elf move and inch ahead of him. They were approaching the finish line when he made the fatal error of glancing over at Sam.