The Scarred Huntress

I fall through the shadows and feel the ground catch my feet before I roll forward and continue running. A thick fog covers everything, almost blinding, but I only need to smell him to know I'm getting close.

I leap over a dumpster and latch onto the walls, speed-climbing. The night air is cold and slaps my face in a refreshing haze, and I keep moving, ignoring the fact that I'm salivating from how good he smells. His scent is-

No. I'm not going to compliment the man I'm supposed to kill.

I skid to a halt, and my breath catches at the shadow that blurs by.

I watch him weave through the night, his form graceful and lethal at the same time. The way his abs flare under the moonlight when he vaults over a chimney-

A chuckle fills the night.

I'm already moving, my breathing sharp and heavy, faster as I near his tail.

What a madman. I can't wait to get my hands on him. He torments me every night. I can't sleep without seeing his grin-above me and pinning me down while his heat seeps into my flesh.

A wet heat pools between my legs. Not now, you damn she-wolf, I curse. The creature inside me calls for him. I will against it every time. I know getting involved with him in sexual ways spells death for both of us. Screw me and my flimsy desires. He is a criminal, responsible for the deaths and hard lives of my people. That's why I have to hunt him down so I can deal wolfkind a good hand.

I finally catch up to him. His scent is alive and powerful-blood, sweat, and something chocolate give him a distinct aroma. I want to subdue him, sink my fangs into his flesh, and have a taste. Is he as good as the other she-wolves say he is?

Almost-he evades. Right when I was close.

I let out a frustrated sigh. It's looking almost impossible to keep up. It seems I've lost him. I want to kick and rip something apart. I claw at my hair and scream out his name instead.

Where are you?

The night echoes back, and a chill laces up my spine. It is quiet for three beats before his laughter breaks it again.

Something dangerous surges in my chest. I won't let him get away with mocking me like this. He'll pay.

If only I can perceive him. He keeps laughing, and I remember I have supernatural hearing after pushing aside the feeling of what his laughter does to me.

I don't find him in the end.

He comes to me.

No-walks.

No-stalks over like I'm the prey instead of the predator. My claws sink into my palms as I stare him down.

The bastard is dressed in nothing but the blanket of night, and I can see every mass of hard, muscled flesh that covers his formidable form. A hunger stirs within me-at what it would feel like to finally dominate this strong, bronze body. I can't wait to wipe that amused look off his face and dim the light in his eyes with pleasure when I ride him till we run mad from this drug that consumes us both. I know he feels it too. I'm sure.

He stops before me.

His golden eyes are sharp, flickering with mockery and something else that causes heat to pool in my stomach. My wolf crawls under my skin, demanding I let her out so she can face him.

I tame her down.

"You should let her out, Huntress. My wolf is calling too. Last time... wasn't enough."

At the last two words, his voice strains, and his skin splits to sinew for half a second before closing back. His fingers twitch.

"We had a deal," I say. "No more disturbances, and I spare your life."

"Forgive me, my lady, but you don't expect me to sit in that prison like a mutt just because your cat is promising."

"Watch it," I warn.

He licks his lips and begins to walk around me. I track his movements, hoping he doesn't hear how fast my heart is beating. He does-and he smiles because he knows it's not fear. His movements slow to stalking steps, and I brace myself.

He never attacks.

I recalibrate.

His grin widens.

"You look lovely today, Elsa," he says.

Shut up, I want to say, but I take my window. I ram into him.

He easily sidesteps, and I might've overpushed because now I'm about to tumble over the roof's edge. My eyes widen as I tip over, and the wind kisses my face and hair as my eyes shut. I wobble my arms to keep balance, but it's too late.

Until a strong hand catches my wrist.

I let out a gasp when I'm pulled back, and I feel my back slam into something hard as his arms envelop me. His breath tickles my ear.

"Watch your step, Huntress."

I elbow him. He buckles and releases me.

I snap to face him, but he's clutching his side and chuckling, a twinkle in his eyes.

"I know how bad you want me," he says, "and frankly, I admire your restraint."

My wolf growls within me, and I can feel my skin tightening, telling me she's ready to burst out. Not yet.

This is what he wants. I can see it in his eyes.

"Come on," he purrs. "Let her come out to play."

His voice darkens.

"I promise you it'll be fun. You didn't hunt me all the way here just to talk to me. Do what you came for. Come on."

"I promise you it'll be fun. You didn't hunt me all the way here just to talk to me. Do what you came for. Come on."

I swallow down the hunger that latches onto my veins and whole being. I said I was going to kill him, but looking at him now, I know that's impossible. I've tried countless times before, and every time he beats me. Tonight will be different, I affirm, letting my wolf take over.

"There you are-"

I lunge at him before he can finish, aiming to claw that taunting grin off his face. He stops me by interlocking his fingers in mine, and I watch his face turn dark and beastly with fangs.

"Try harder," his wolf growls.

I swing my leg at his side before I can think. I shouldn't have. He catches my limb and sweeps the only leg I'm balancing on.

My back smacks the ground, and his large form pins me down. No way out. His fingers are still locked with mine, and he pins them over my head. I writhe under him, and he smirks. I make a fist with my free hand, but he catches it before it can connect with his face, pinning that hand above my head as well.

I'm stuck, and heat rises to my face because this is the second night in a row-and if I don't control myself, there's going to be a repeat of last time, which I-

"You're not even struggling."

His gravelly voice rumbles against my being, making me weak in the knees.

"I bet you're dripping for me. Dirty Huntress."

His words disgust me and make my hands clench into fists. I feel his arousal stirring, and that is when I knee his balls. He releases me instantly and rolls onto his back, groaning in pain and laughing.

Sicko.

Though I can't help the flutter in my chest at the sound, I scramble to my knees without hesitating and reach for the shackles in my utility belt and bind his ankles together.

His laughter cuts short-and so does my breath when his fingers tighten around my neck. I gasp for air as the pressure increases, and I transform my forearm to claw at him. His eyes flare with a dangerous, beastly light that makes my heart rate spike.

I hack at his forearm until his grip loosens. He would have transformed if he could, but we both know the shackles I imprisoned him with restrict him from doing just that. It's made entirely of wolfsbane metal.

I lurch away from him to catch my breath. His forearm pulses with blood from the claw marks now adorning it.

His mouth opens wide to say something, but it just hangs as his eyelids grow heavy. I rise to my feet and tower above him.

Below me, untransformed, he looks vulnerable. My heart almost aches.

"You... cheated," he manages. My grin is the last thing he sees.

The night is quiet now, and a moist wind blows. I can feel the rain coming.

Perfect. His blood will wash away when I'm done. My claws shoot out, catching the dull glow of the full moon.

One strike to the carotid artery, and my kill is confirmed. I put an end to the terror plaguing this city while improving my rank.

I have every right to kill him. He's violated probation too many times. If I don't kill him now, more people will get hurt. Minutes pass as I ponder, and eventually the sky pours down on us both, leaving our bodies drenched.

I shiver in my thermo jacket. He wheezes below me, and I step back while readying my killing blow.

His eyelids flutter open, and he coughs out water. His hair is drenched and slick over his face while he tries to sit up. The second set of shackles I bound his wrists with won't let him, so he just turns to his side and grits his teeth.

The cold is intense, but he does not curl. And though naked, he does not shiver at all. Instead, his eyes are dark and piercing, and rageful heat crawls under my skin.

"You should kill me." His voice rumbles like thunder. "This is miserable."

"You deserve it," I say, feeling a surge.

"More people will die if you don't kill me right now."

Every muscle in my body locks. What is he playing at? His eyes are dead serious. Spiteful. I hate myself for wanting to believe this is one of his sick games... no. It is.

"Don't be selfish. Do it!"

I flinch.

His grin shakes. "You know I can't live without killing them for what they did to me. So if you want to stop them from dying, you might as well finish me-because I promise you, if I get out of this alive, Werewolf Island will know hell."

He says it in one venomous breath.

Something cold and sharp floods my veins, and I inch closer, crouching to meet his eyes. His gaze shifts from mine to my cheek-to the scar that made me what I am. I'm not Batman. And this isn't my first time killing. I want to kill him, but I also want to understand why he's doing this.

"You really want to die?"

His jaw locks. I continue before he can answer:

"By the hands of a she-wolf? The great Icarus Morvan." I mock. "Your ancestors will roast you in hell."

The lines on his face contort with morbid hate, and a dark satisfaction fills me.

I raise my hand and bring it down. His eyes keep boring into me. I make a fist at the last moment and strike his jaw. His head snaps sideways.

"Death is too merciful for types like you," I murmur, watching blood trail down his jaw.

Icar's POV

I wake to darkness-and ice freezing tight in my veins. I feel around what seems to be a concrete floor and sit up quickly when the familiar scent of blood and decay hits me.

I grit my teeth as the realization dawns.

A shadow shifts, and the form gives way to a gaunt man behind bars. Rather, I'm behind bars, and he's the guard. His eyes flash.

"You're awake," he states grumpily, as if they're not paying him enough for what he has to do.

I still feel the remains of the other guards that were here before him under my nails and teeth, and I lick my lips while watching his hand shake. He checks the deadbolt again.

I grunt and sit far back where the light can't touch me, my knees curled to my chin.

The hunger rumbles within me-wild and uncontrollable. It's painful, and I can't feel my wolf.

I smile. It still amazes me. Her cruelty.

I almost stop my desires from stirring. I rest where I am, biding my time and replenishing my energy. I'm alive. And soon Elsa Ivana will realize how much of a terrible mistake she has made.

---

Elsa's POV

After dropping Icar off at the prison where he belongs, I head home and peel off my clothes. Dirty and wet from the rain, I'm soaked from head to toe in grime. I step into the shower, and then the water kisses my skin in a warm influx-I almost purr.

I'm toweling my hair while looking out my window at the full moon, now gradually obstructed by clouds. The effects should be wearing off by now. I think back to my altercation with Icar. I was triumphant, and I should be smirking and reveling in the fact that he's not as untouchable as he claims-but instead, there's this itch under my skin.

This uneasiness that tells me I've done something very wrong.

I push it to the back of my mind by filling my senses with the aroma of fried eggs I set in the pan. My apartment is small and modest-a perk of being one of the top werewolf hunters in this city.

I sip cold blood from a carton while looking at my reflection in the mirror. There's nothing soft about me. I'm a weapon.

Though my expression darkens when I notice the scar that dominates my face.

It's a beautiful scar. The most beautiful thing about you. Icar once said.

I squeeze my carton. Disgust fills me. I can't stand the fact that I can't stop thinking about him.

My wolf wants to tear out of me. Wants to be near him. I fight her down. I hate fighting her down. It's because of Icar. Why does someone like him have to exist in my world?

I've read his file. He's an alpha. He used to have a pack but was exiled and replaced. Now he's a lone wolf on the path of vengeance. Connected as I am, I still don't have his full story, and it eats me up.

I toss the empty carton in the bin, and his gaze flashes in my head. The way he looks at me-like he knows me more than I know myself. It unsettles and thrills me.

I guess that's why I spared him. Why I did it every time in the past when the chance to kill him and end the terror that plagued our world was right in my claws.

He was the only wolf who saw me.

I feel it again-the electrifying thrum of my own heartbeat. The ghost of his touch. His hard body against my curves. We'd look so perfect together. I dare to dream. The chemistry between us is too dangerous-it's explosive. And I hate how my skin prickles at the echo of his words, the way my heart lurches at his agony when he let out those words. Those threats.

It was unlike our past encounters. This time, he seemed hell-bent on provoking me to kill him. What got into him at that moment? There's no way someone like him would have given up on his revenge plan, and as twisted as it sounds, I don't want him to give up. I want him to keep sinning so I can keep catching him. I want to have him broken-but slowly, under my hands. He would make a decent bedroom slave.

These shouldn't be the thoughts of someone like me-someone meant to protect this city from types like him. But I can't help the thrill, and as much as I hate it, I can't help but admit that he's right.

I'm enabling him.

I should be sleeping, but the loneliness is too heavy to ignore. The action ended too fast. A bite of frustration wells up within me. The bastard didn't even resist that much. I want to go back to that prison cell and punch his face till he's unconscious again.

I put out the lights and force myself to lie down. My heart won't stop beating fast, and my body won't stop turning on the bed.

He'll get free. And I can only imagine what he'll do to get my attention. Who he'll kill next. The chaos he'll cause.

Sick-that's what my inspector general would label me if he read my thoughts. I shouldn't be treating this like a game. Lives are on the line.

If only they knew...

Before I tasted this power, life was boring. I was a simple human girl with nothing to look forward to. Nobody respected me. Nobody cared. I was the type that, if I fell sick, no one would give two fucks about my well-being.

Then came the accident that changed my life. I thanked the moon goddess for that accident. Werewolves had to rope me away from the human world so I could be here-so I could be part of Werewolf Island. So that I could be one of them. Since I wasn't affiliated with any packs, I chose to use my powers to enforce law and order in werewolf society.

Now here I am. Playing cat and mouse with a wanted criminal.