The Scarred Huntress

"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.