The Hunt

My cell phone rang, as I was getting in my car. The theme from the Dukes of Hazard signaled that it was my best friend, Lucien.

"Hello Lucien."

"Hey, I just got your message. I'm sorry that it didn't work out. How are you holding up?"

"Meh. I can't decide whether to be angry or sad. Everything is irritating me."

"I'm going to the cabin for a couple of weeks. Do you want to come up, and keep me company?"

"Two weeks in the mountains? What do you want me to bring, and when do you want me to come?"

"Just yourself and whatever specialty things you want that I don't keep on hand. I have to stay here for a couple of days to tie up loose ends, but you should go ahead and go up tomorrow. Get yourself situated, and spend the time relaxing. I have the key hidden in the log pile."

"Alright, I will pack tonight, and head up in the morning. Goodbye, Lucien."

"Goodbye, Val."

I go home, pack for my trip, and call it an early night. I get up before the sun, stop at the grocery store, and pick up provisions. I transfer them to my car, then head for the cabin. I spend most of my journey on interstate, playing pole position with a group of suped-up Hondas. My Camaro easily outpaces them, and I leave them behind as I get off onto my exit.

The mountains are starting to rise around me, and the views are awe-inspiring. I turn off onto the road that leads to the cabin. It takes me around a lake. I forget about my troubles, and start thinking about how I am going to divide my time.

I finally pull up to the cabin. I get out and stretch my legs. The cabin sits about a half-acre from the lake, in a small valley, and has a dock to fish from. The lake borders it on one side, and the forests covers the other three sides away from the drive. I know from past discussions that Lucien likes to hunt here. I see that there is plenty of wood stacked by the entrance. I search the nooks and crannies, then find the key.

I unpack my vehicle and head inside to check the cabin out. The place looks like it has been freshly cleaned. It has a mudroom, full bath, kitchen living room, storage area, and a bedroom that sits in the loft. The fireplace in the living room will keep it toasty at night.

I get my gear and provisions put away. I carry in firewood, fill the stand by the fireplace, then start a fire. I grab a towel then head to the lake. I strip down to nothing, then walk into the water. It is cold, but I move forward through it till it is at my hips, then dive in. I move languidly in it, absorbing the sensations of the water caressing my skin.

My body begins to tire. I start swimming back to shore. I dry off, redress in my clothes, and head back to the cabin. Breathing in the clean mountain air is doing wonders for my disposition. I fix myself some dinner, and grab one of my novels. As I work steadily through my dinner, I become involved in the latest Cynster romance.

I clean the kitchen, then load my dishes into the dishwasher. I take my book and curl up by the fire. As I read the story, I become more involved in it, and my body relaxes. I drift off to sleep. The feeling of knuckles stroking my cheek wakes me up. Startled, I sit up, look around, but I see no one in the darkness of the cabin.

The fire has died down. I add tinder and firewood to it, then head upstairs. The rustic bed is made up with soft flannels and a goose down comforter. I pull the covers back to make sure there isn't anything wondering around in there, then strip my clothes off. I sink into the mattress, cover up, and I fall asleep.

I wake as the sun starts to rise. I brush my teeth, wash my face, throw on my clothes from the night before, and get my fishing gear. I walk to the dock. I set my pole and tackle box down. I get into my tackle box for the Styrofoam container of night crawlers that I had purchased the day before.

I pick out a fat one, and thread it onto my hook. I take a moment, and feel sympathy for what I put the worm through, then cast my line as I think of delicious pan-fried fish for breakfast. Before long, I feel something hit my line. I coax it closer to shore, and scoop it up before it can get away. It isn't the biggest bass that I have caught, but it will make for a good meal.

I drive a clean nail through its head to kill it, then I de-scale it on the dock. When I am satisfied, I gather my gear, and go back to the cabin. I drop my gear onto the porch, and go inside. I set the fish in the sink. I sharpen a filet knife from the block on the counter, and put a cast iron skillet and a large sauce pan on to heat.

I fill the saucepan with water. I roughly chop an onion, carrot, and a couple ribs of celery. I peel a couple cloves of garlic. I add them to the sauce pan with salt and pepper, then deftly process the fish. I put some butter in the warm pan, then I coat the fillets in flour, seasonings, and put them in the skillet. As they cook, I cut up the carcass, and put it in the pot.

I keep an eye on my fillets, while the pot begins to boil. I place a lid on it, and turn down the heat so that it can simmer all day. When the fish is done, I plate it, and eat. I make quick work of it, then clean the kitchen up. I get a shower, and change into some fresh clothes.

I spend the rest of the morning exploring the forest. There are times when I feel like I am being watched. I stop, and look around. I can see nothing, but the inhabitants of the forest.

When I start to feel hungry, I head back to the cabin. I make a sandwich, and open a bag of chips. After lunch, I head back out, and fish some more. I catch a couple of bluegill and a small bass. I clean them then head back to the cabin. I spend my time making a fish chowder, then let it sit to cook. I read my novel.

I taste the chowder, add some last-minute seasonings, then toast and butter some sourdough bread. I ladle some into a bowl, and sit at the counter. As I sit there, going through the mechanics of eating, I think about Lucien. I've had a crush on him for as long as I can remember, and he has been the standard that all others are measured by.

He stands at 6'4 towering over me. A solid 220 pounds of sheer sculpted muscle. His raven black hair hangs past his shoulders, like silk. Sapphire blue eyes that turn black in anger and passion. Lips that can tempt a saint to sin. A deep whiskey voice that makes my core tighten every time I hear it.

Yet, it is his other qualities that draw me to him. He is intelligent, humorous, confident, dominant of himself, and has always been protective of me. I've never said anything about my desires concerning him, for fear that it would screw up our friendship.

I finish my meal. I clean the kitchen, go outside for a night swim, and tire myself out. As I approach the shore, I feel like someone is watching me. I stop, look around, but I can't see anyone in the moonlight. I pick up my clothes, head inside, and take a shower. Exhausted from the day, I get in bed, and let sleep claim me.

I get up early. I dress in some old clothes and hiking boots. I want to forage in the forest for plants to add to my pressed flower collection. I make myself a pot of coffee, and fill up my travel mug. I pack a backpack with some food and essentials, then head out for the day.

I check my position throughout the day, so that I don't get lost. I have found a lot of different flowers, and am happy with my haul. I turn around, making for the cabin. As I walk forward, I feel something tighten around my ankle. Surprise rips a scream from my mouth. I am jerked backwards, but I rise into the air before I hit the ground. I tripped a snare, and I am hanging upside down.

I hear something moving towards me. Adrenaline hits. I grab my legs, climb up, and get my hands on the rope. I pull my folding knife out of my pocket. I flip it open, and saw at the rope by my ankle. I finally cut through it, then slide down. I let go, and drop three feet. I land on my feet, pocket my knife, and run. My bag is left on the ground as I haul ass for all I am worth.

My ears tell my brain that whatever is behind me is picking up speed. I keep to a straight line, heading for the cabin. With the intention of foraging, I meandered around earlier. I know I am not that far from it, but I'm not sure that I can outpace what is behind me.

My heart is pounding in my chest. The floor is littered with fallen trees, branches, and burrows that animals have made. I come up on a large tree, place my hands on it, and vault over. I almost lose my balance. I regain it, then run again. I hear laughter behind me. A male, and by the sound of his voice, a good bit away from me.

Even running as fast as I can, I can hear him gaining on me.

I stop to catch my breath. I look at my options. I can climb a tree, hope to out-wait him, but climbing in a frenzied pace will give myself away. I will be like a bear, nowhere to go, but down to the dogs. I can keep running ahead, but all I see is forest. I will exhaust myself before I get to safety.

I start running, looking for a hollow log. My indecision has cost me time. He is moving fast, faster than what I can hope to push my body to. My lungs are gasping for air, and I am becoming winded. Finally, off to my left, I see a dead tree that will cover me. I drop to the ground, crawl inside, and quiet my breathing. I scoot back out of sight as far as I can, but there isn't a lot of room.

I sit on my haunches in silence, waiting. I hear his footfalls getting closer. I pull my knife out, quietly flipping it open. I push the blade with my thumb until it is locked in position. I palm the knife in my hand. I relax my body. I clear my mind. I focus on his position. He is almost on top of my location.

I hear his pace slow, then stop. I can hear him breathing. He doesn't even sound winded. This doesn't bode well for me.

I hear him start to move. I must strain me ears to hear his footsteps. I hold myself in place, waiting. My heart is slamming against my rib cage, and I fight the urge to drag in deep, gulping breaths.

From the side of the log, a hand reaches out, and grabs my ankle. It pulls, jerking me off balance. I land on my back. It drags me out of the log. After sitting in the darkness of the log, the sunlight is blinding. I strike out with my knife. I feel it catch on skin.

I hear a menacing growl. A shadow falls over my face. I scoot backwards giving myself room. I push myself off the ground with my hands. I stand up, and quickly take a fighter's stance. I flip the knife in my hand so that the blade faces me. My hands take a defensive position around my face.

My huntsman is dressed in woodland print fatigues and a ski mask. A large hunting knife is strapped to his thigh. His ski mask is sliced open, and there is a thin graze mark where I caught his cheek.

"Put the knife down." He yells at me.

"No!" I yell back.

We enter into a combat dance. He steps forward. I strike out with my knife, move backwards, and make sure that my foot is placed on solid ground.

"You're only going to hurt yourself." His voice is deadly calm.

"I'm not going down without a fight." I shout at him.

Through the mouth opening of his ski mask, I see him smile. "I was hoping you would say that."

He rushes me. I strafe to my left, and strike out with my knife.

He jumps back before I can land a hit. We circle each other looking for an opening.

He's toying with me. Waiting for me to make a mistake. An opening where he can overpower me. I push down anger. I focus on his movements instead of my feelings.

Standing in a guarded position, I consider my options.

I can run in the opposite direction, but he will just take me from behind. He has the superior stride and stamina. It will also put me further away from the cabin.

I can do a blitz attack, trying to force my way through to the cabin. That is if I can land a solid hit. I'm not dancing with a thug. My opponent is a skilled fighter. If I can get through, he will still be able to take me from behind.

I can stand here and dance with him, hoping that he will drop his guard. While I do that, I understand that he is doing the same with me. He only has two strides before he will be in strike distance.

He takes a step forward, and I snap a kick out at his face.

As I place my foot back on the ground, he rushes me again. I am fucked.

I strike out with my knife. He catches my knife hand by the wrist. His other hand grabs my neck in a choke hold. I feel his leg sweep mine out from under me, and I am falling backwards.

I hit the ground hard. It knocks the wind from my lungs. As I gasp for breath, he straddles my hips holding me down. He lets go of my neck. His hand moves to my sternum, rubbing it. Finally, I can drag deep breaths in, and fill my lungs.

I take advantage of his concern, and pull the ski mask from his head.

It's Lucien.

My world tips on its axis. Sapphire blue eyes gaze back at me, ravenous. There is a shadow there. His face is familiar as my own, yet the emotions that are forming it make it strange and unknown to me.

My hand is still captured in an unforgiving grip. I feel his weight sink down on me, just enough where I have to still myself to be able to breathe.

His hand squeezes my wrist. "Drop it," he growls at me. I try to keep a hold of it, unsure whether it is safe to do so. With my free hand, I grab his wrist, trying to pull it off mine. He applies more pressure. I dig my nails into his wrist, but it has no effect. He only tightens his hand more. The pain forces my hand open, and I whimper. The knife drops from my hand, landing beside me.

He lets go of my hand. I try to scoot out from under him, but his weight holds me in place. I ball up my fist, and strike his chest. It doesn't faze him. I shove my hands against his chest, trying to push him off me, but he just raises an eyebrow at me.

He captures my wrists in his hands. He pushes them above my head, placing them on the ground. As tall as he is, he doesn't even have to stretch to hold me in place. He lets his face hover over mine. Captures my gaze in his. Makes sure that he has my attention.

"I can't tell you how long I have wanted and waited to do this. You always have some pup at your heels. Always flirting with some jackass that just wants submission without taking the time to see you for who you are. Men-children that have no idea how to appreciate you."

"I've held you in my arms each time you have had your heart broken, comforting you. Giving you my ear. Soothing you. Telling you how great you are."

"Wandering why you never see me, and what I have to do to get your attention. I've hunted you since you were legal, waiting for you to get a clue. This time, I am choosing not to wait. This time you are my prey."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. I give them consideration.

While he has always flirted with me, there had been a string of women that he passed his time with.

Women that I have been envious of. Women that, for a time, I wished I was. However, their unions never seemed to build the momentum to carry through the distance.

"Lucien. I have always thought that we were just friends, and that seeking a physical intimacy with you would screw that up. That a breakup would cause you to be an ex, out of my life forever."

He laughs at me.

"Beautiful, feisty, curious Valkyrie. You think all those men just went off, and were content to just leave you alone after you decided that they weren't right for you? No, I stepped into their path. I told them to leave you alone. I showed them what they would have to endure if they reached out to you."

"You are mine, and today I am going to conquer and claim you."

His words wash over me, and I feel anger.

"I'm yours? You want to conquer me? You want to claim me? You've waited all this time, and never said anything? I've wasted a phenomenal amount of time and energy on others, when I could have been with you?" I ask.

He looks into my eyes unblinkingly. "Yes. I was waiting for you to get tired of all those other guys. I needed you to understand what you wanted. I need you to see me; see that I am what you need."

"See this." I pull my head back, and slam my forehead into the bridge of his nose.

I hear the satisfying crunch of bone and cartilage grinding together. Blood starts pouring from his nose.

He releases my wrists, and falls backwards. He is partially sprawled over my legs on his back.

He pinches his nose, trying to stop the blood flow.

I take the opportunity to scoot out from under him. I flip over onto my knees, spring to my feet, and take off.

I hear him cursing behind me.

Lucien has never laid a hand on me in anger, but then I have never busted his nose before. I've tried his patience on countless occasions, yet never to this degree.

I run hell for leather.

"Run as far as you like! I will always pursue you!" I hear him shout behind me.

As I run, I strain my ears for the sounds of movement behind me. I hear nothing, but I keep going.

Soon the cabin comes into view. I make my way inside, and start packing my things.

As I am zipping up my case, upstairs in the loft, I hear the front door shut.

Heavy footsteps sound on the stairs.

I turn around, and he is standing before me. He has my pack in his hand. His nose is slightly swollen, but the bleeding has stopped.

He stretches his other hand out to me.

"Do you want to try this again?" He growls it out at me.

I think about what he is saying. When we are together, he makes me teeter-totter between being happy and swimming in desire. Do I want to turn my back on that?

My legs know the answer before my brain acknowledges it. They carry me forward to him. I place my hand in his, and give him my trust.

He grasps my hand, then pulls me into him.

His hand travels from mine up to my chin. He places his other hand on my lower back, holding me to him. He tips my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes.

"Do you want this? I need to hear you say it, because once I get a taste for you, I will never let you go." His eyes become black pools. I know what this admission means from him; what it costs him.

"Yes, I want this." I pull on the back of his neck, stand on my tiptoes, and kiss him.

He growls at me before his lips open over mine. His tongue forces its way between my lips. My lips open, and I suck on his tongue. His hand on my chin moves down to my neck. He pushes his hips into me, guiding me backwards towards the bed. I feel the edge hit the back of my knees.

He pushes me. I fall backwards onto the bed. He pulls my boots off. I undo my jeans, then he is grasping them, tugging them from me. As they slide from my body, I undo the clasps on my bra. I jerk it and my tank top off. He stops, looking at me.

I open my legs, reach down, and spread my lips open with my index and third finger. I flick my clit with my middle finger, then dip it into my opening. "What? Are you enjoying watching me?"

"Won't lie, I am." He watches me stroke myself, spreading wetness over my lips, and playing as he gets rid of his clothes.

He comes to the bed, and kneels before me. His thumbs replace my fingers, spreading me apart gently. I hear him breathing deeply, taking in my scent. His tongue plunges into my entrance. He flattens it out, then drags it up and over my clit, soaking me in my own moisture. My fingers dig into his hair, encouraging him to give me more.

He takes his time tasting me. His rough tongue lathes my sensitive flesh, making it even more so. I try to squirm away from him, but his arms come up on my thighs from underneath, pinning me down. He growls against my soaked clit, causing me to jump against his mouth. He laps my juices up, and sucks on my nub.

My body tightens under his ministrations. My legs squeeze together and my back arches as my orgasm dictates my body's responses. He doesn't stop. He just keeps going until my body stops tremoring. Being satisfied with his skill, he rises above me. He kisses me deeply. I suckle the taste of myself from his lips and chin.