Page 72 of The Hunted

Eryx’s gaze went back to the merwoman surrounded by discarded netting, and how her stare had drifted away from his own so she could survey the bigger threat around her. That was unacceptable—he needed her looking at him.

Especially now.

The question pulled from his lips before he could stop it, and the second he made a noise, her eyes snapped right back to his. “Do you know why I’ve hunted you?”

SIXTEEN

Arelle

“DO YOU KNOW why I’ve hunted you?”

Every single inch of Arelle felt that question. It echoed in her bones and sang in her blood. He—her mate—looked almost Godly standing among the others on the wharf in his rich clothing and aristocratic aura. The other men shifted from foot to foot, their gazes never lingering on her for long, but also coming right back to her as though they were scared she might run. He, on the other hand, only watched her.

She felt that, too.

He seemed so different from the rest with his hands folded neatly at his front, and his expression emotionless while he watched her. The intricately-designed waistcoat that peeked through his fur-trimmed cloak was a stark contrast to the plain clothes of everyone else around them. No one came too close. Not to her, or to him. A respectable distance was given, but not enough to allow her any sense of freedom.

A hunter with its prey.

Pleased.

But not showing it.

He didn’t need to show it.

She felt it.

“Will you speak?”

Yes, she wanted to answer to his first question. And no to his second. Yet, Arelle said nothing. At that moment, she didn’t need to, and he’d not demanded anything of her. Asking a question and slinging an order were two entirely different things.

One gave a choice.

One did not.

He took one step closer to her. Arelle tilted her head higher to keep their stares locked. She remembered his name just fine. It still whispered in her mind during quiet moments when nothing else was distracting her.

Eryx.

A part of her wanted to say it—to finish what she’d started here with him so that he would hear her singing in his mind for the rest of his life like she now heard him, but somehow … by the grace of the Gods, she kept quiet.

Which was clearly not what he wanted.

“Do you not speak?” Eryx demanded.

There was a crack in his facade.

A single slip of emotion, even if it was one that had the other men on the wharf clearing their throats and glancing away. His rage came off so clear—painful, really.

Still, Arelle remained silent.

A pretty stone sitting on her knees, with wet wood pressed against her tingling skin. She was too close to the water here. Three steps to her left and she could dive right into the sea. If only he would look away, then she could do exactly that, too.

Or at the very least, try.

But like this, while he watched her and he was near, she had no choice. The bond kept her eyes on him. The thrall of her mate being close kept her watching him. Even as the man who stood closest to Eryx called his name, he didn’t look back or respond. Not when he was too busy moving closer to her.

He couldn’t know it … didn’t know, but the bond worked the same way for him. They were no better or worse, him and her. More the same than different, now.