Chapter 3: After the Hunt
Lior
I slipped through my window and into my room, not in the mood to face Father or Perl. Tonight had left a mark on me I couldn't wash away.
I went straight to the shower and let the cold water run over my skin. The sting of it steadied me; the world narrowed to the sound of water and the memory of the hunt. I had thought the Bloodbound were gone after I climbed the cliff. I was wrong—one had stayed.
I smelled him before I saw him: a clean, sharp scent like blue lilies and mint. He moved through the trees with a silence that made my skin prickle. I never expected him to be in that tree, and when we fought I refused to back down. He didn't either.
When the mark on his chest flared...red and alive...something in me stopped. I had never seen anything like it. Up close, I caught a good look at him: black hair, dark eyes, a face that belonged in statues and in nightmares. I found myself memorizing him, shame and awe warping together until I could not breathe.
Then I smelled him properly...his true scent and the world folded. He was my mate.
A voice called his name from the dark. He glanced toward the sound, then vanished into the trees. I wanted to follow, to catch him, to ask a thousand questions, but the moment was gone.
Back under the hot spray I scrubbed my black hair and tried to think like a king instead of a man reeling from a revelation. A mate. A man. I'd never dated another man—how could fate be this cruel, or this merciful?
I toweled off and stepped out. The lamp in my room was already on. Of course—Perl. She lounged on the couch with one eyebrow lifted like she always did when she smelled a secret.
"Well?" she asked. "How's the operation going?"
"What operation?" I asked, trying to sound casual, which failed.
"Finding your mate, Lior." She smirked. "How's it going?"
I lied without thinking. "Nothing yet." My voice was flat; the lie tasted like ash.
Perl studied me, then rose. "If you say so." She moved to the door as if to leave,
"What do you know about the rare blood bound hunters." I said as quickly as I can
then she turned, curiosity sharpening her features. "What? why are you asking?"
I felt my heart stumble.
"Nothing," I said easily. "I was just curious." Her eyes were too bright. "But listen—rare Bloodbound make up only about two percent of their kind. It's not common. It usually happens when their blood mixes with something else—another creature, some other lineage."
"Like a witch?" I asked, suddenly agitated.
Perl nodded. "If one of them mates with a witch...especially a high-ranking witch—the results can be… unusual."
"Unusual how?" I pushed. My chest tightened. The memory of his scent, the glow of that mark everything felt impossible.
"We'll talk tomorrow," she said, already moving toward the door. "Meet me in the library. I'll tell you what I know. There's more to this than you think."
She left me there with an unfinished story and a thousand new questions. I stood in the lamplight, the towel at my waist, and thought of the scar on his chest, the look in his eyes, and the way the forest seemed to rearrange my life with a single breath.
Tomorrow, the library. For now, sleep felt impossible.