Chapter 2: What She Was Now

Seven years later…

“And where do you think you’re sneaking off to?” Selene’s voice grated through the room, uninvited as always. “What, off to moon over your favorite rotter again?”

Vanya didn’t bother turning around, her hands still fussing with the laces on her boots. “Need I remind you Killian was your mess to clean up? Except he was too clever, too slippery—your words, not mine. So Father dumped him on me. Lucky break, huh?”

“Oh, wow, first-name basis with the rotter now? That’s precious,” Selene cooed, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk that begged to be slapped off.

Vanya rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time for your nonsense, Selene. Shocker, I know—I’ve got actual work to do.”

“Lord Alaric’s house will be here three days from now. Think you’ll manage to scrub the rotter-stink off you by then, dear adopted sister?”

There it was—adopted. The word hit like a splinter under a nail. Vanya hated it, hated how it dangled her past in front of her like a taunt.

She straightened up, meeting Selene’s smug gaze in the mirror. “I’ve got a name, Selene. Vanya. One your father—our father—picked out.”

Her real family had been gone for years. She liked to pretend she had forgotten the past, but it still haunted her dreams. What surprised Vanya most was how well she had held herself together. If not for the scar on her forearm, she might have convinced herself that losing them had been nothing more than a cruel nightmare.

Selene’s smirk didn’t budge. “Oops, my tongue slipped again. Sorry, Vanya.”

Eight years on, and Vanya still felt like a hand-me-down coat—itchy, stiff, not quite hers. She couldn’t blame herself for that, though. For sixteen years, she’d been Jenny. Jenny Duff. But after that night—the storm, the river, the hunters dragging her half-dead ass out of Hollows—she’d been remade. Reborn as Vanya Reed, adopted daughter of Randall and Celeste, a rogue hunter.

“Vanya, you in here?” Ares’ voice sliced through her brooding.

“She’s right here,” Selene chirped, jumping in. For as long as Vanya could remember, her stepsister had been drooling over the pack’s zeta like a lovesick puppy.

“There you are,” Ares said, stepping into the doorway. His eyes latched onto Vanya’s, giving her a quick once-over. “I need a word.”

“What’s up?” she asked, keeping her tone flat.

“In my office.”

“I’m on my way out. Lachlan and the others are already—”

He cut her off with a raised hand, palm out like a stop sign. “My office. Now.” He turned and stalked off, leaving no room for argument.

Selene spun back to her, that smug little smirk plastered on her face. “Don’t worry, sister. Once Ares is Alpha and I’m his Luna—fingers crossed—I’ll make sure you’re set. You know, ship you off somewhere quiet, let you retire early. No mate, no mess, just peace and quiet.”

Vanya deadpanned, “Oh, Selene, what did I ever do to deserve such a generous, thoughtful soul like you?”

Selene’s grin widened, her brown eyes glinting as they locked onto Vanya’s green ones. “Just born lucky, I guess. Off you go now—wouldn’t want to keep Ares waiting.” She sauntered out, heels clacking on the wood floor like she owned the place.

For a moment, Vanya lingered, staring at herself in the mirror. Black shirt and tight leather pants, hair pulled back, scars peeking out. Shaking off the ghosts of her past, she snatched her twin handguns—Ebony and Ivory, custom-made and cooler than she’d ever admit—off the desk and bolted out of her room toward Ares’ office.

Ares was slouched in his chair when she walked in, hunched over some blueprint spread across his desk. He glanced up, and his eyes latched onto her—predatory, sharp, the kind of look that could strip paint off a wall.

“What’s this about?” She played it cool, ignoring the weight of it.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he unfolded himself from the chair and closed the distance between them, blue eyes pinned on her like she was the only thing in the room. She opened her mouth to repeat herself, but before the words could land, he was on her—walking her backward until her spine hit the bookshelf with a dull thud. He caged her in, hands braced on either side.

“What’s this about?” he echoed with a low, disbelieving chuckle. “Take a wild guess, Vanya. What’s running through my head right now?”

His head dropped to her shoulder, lips hovering way too close to her neck. She’d seen this playbook before.

“Let me see,” she said. “Banging me against this shelf, probably?”

Ares smirked, grabbed her waist. “You know me too well. I’m almost flattered.” His mouth crashed onto hers, rough hands sliding down to grip her ass. Instinct kicked in—she parted her lips, letting his tongue tangle with hers, no hesitation.

Lachlan and the hunters would be twiddling their thumbs for at least thirty minutes.

Her eyes fluttered shut as the kiss deepened. Ares had this way of making her feel all warm and fuzzy, like some dumb kid with a crush. He’d been the one to take her “innocence” a few years back, and she’d learned quick that it didn’t rattle her then, and it sure as hell didn’t now.

Ares was a man among boys before he even hit eighteen, the kind of leader women drooled over and men envied. Born to fight, born to command. Pack hero.

“You know this getup of yours drives me insane,” he muttered against her lips, voice rough and low. His hands traced the line of her shoulders, sliding down to the small of her back, pulling her tight against him. She could feel him—hard and insistent—pressing between her thighs. No mistaking what he wanted.

“Ares, the hunters are waiting,” Vanya muttered, prying her eyes open with effort. “And don’t you have that meeting with your dad?”

But Ares didn’t budge. Instead, his hands found the zipper on her top, yanking it down her back in one smooth pull before tugging her pants past her hips. “They can cool their heels,” he said, popping two fingers into his mouth.

“Ares.” She bit her lip, already bracing herself. She knew where this was headed.

“What’s this, huh?” His hand slid between her thighs, nudging her panties aside with zero hesitation. She gasped—sharp and involuntary—as his damp fingers brushed over her, teasing her pulsing core.

It was broad daylight, and here she was, letting out a soft, needy moan like some lovesick fool.

“Shit,” she hissed, head tipping back as he kept rubbing, then slipped inside her. Her hips jerked hard against his hand. “I’ve got to—ah—go—ah—now.”

“Relax, we’ll make it quick,” Ares said, smirking like he was eating up every squirm and protest—especially when she started dripping against his fingers.

“Thirty minutes isn’t a quickie, you ass,” she shot back, but her hands were already clawing at his jacket, pulling him closer. “I’ve got to go.” Her breath hitched, coming out in shallow pants. They’d danced this dance a hundred times—she knew “quick” wasn’t in his vocabulary.

He chuckled, low and smug, shrugging off his jacket and letting it hit the floor. “It will be this time.” Before she could argue, he hoisted her up and shoved her onto a desk beside where they were standing, papers crinkling under her weight. She let out a half-giddy, half-annoyed giggle as he pushed her top higher, lips finding the pale skin spilling over her no-frills black bra. He kissed her there, hungry and unapologetic.

“Been thinking about eating you all morning,” he murmured, voice rough with want. “My tongue’s been itching for it since I opened my eyes.”

“Oh, don’t—don’t say crap like that when we’re stuck with a quickie,” she groaned, already melting into a puddle. Ares talking dirty was her kryptonite—turned her brain to mush every damn time. He laughed, all sexy and infuriating, nipping at her collarbone before pressing a grin against her throat.

“Your tongue can have its fun later tonight,” Vanya shot back, even as her fingers fumbled with his belt buckle, popping it open with a flick. She shoved his pants and boxers down in one go, letting them pool around his ass.

“Count on it,” Ares groaned, the sound rumbling out of him the second her hands closed around him. He slapped one palm against the desk for balance, the other nudging her panties aside like it was nothing. “I’ll make you come so many times you’ll lose count.” Then he thrust into her, hard and sudden.

“Ah!” Vanya’s gasp ripped out, sharp and raw.

“You’ve got no clue how much I love this,” he growled, eyes dark and wild. “Your back arching, legs wrapping me up, those damn combat boots digging into my skin—fucking hot.”

“Oh, yeah?” she panted, barely keeping up.

“Hell yeah.” He was already losing it. A quickie before she bolted always lit him up like a match to dry grass. Problem was, his office sat just a few feet from the conference room—screaming their heads off wasn’t an option, no matter how bad they wanted to.

He planted both hands on the desk, leveraging himself to drive into her deeper, harder. She moaned his name—not loud enough to blow their cover, but enough to make his eyes flash with that smug thrill he lived for. Her fingers twisted into his dark brown hair, yanking his mouth to hers in a messy, desperate kiss. Then his hand slid between them, rubbing her just right while he pounded into her, relentless. He was gunning to finish her fast—and it was working. She moaned again, and he bit her lower lip, sharp and teasing.

Vanya orgasm hit her like a freight train—she shuddered, clenching around him with a choked, husky cry. Ares wasn’t far behind, unraveling with a gritted “Oh, fuck!” Then he pulled out, one hand pumping himself while the other thrust two fingers in and out of her until eventually, they both reached their climax. When his tip grazed her still-throbbing center, she jolted, trembling through the aftershocks.

“Stop it,” Vanya managed, voice shaky as she rode out the high. “I really have to go, or they’ll start sniffing around.”

Ares still hadn’t found his mate—no surprise there. She wasn’t even sure he cared to look. What they had was their little secret, a deal they’d struck and kept under wraps. Being originally human, Moira, Alpha Callum’s supposed spiritual adviser, had told her and everyone concerned that she couldn’t be mated, that only natural-born shifters were given by the moon goddess the gift of lifelong companionship.

Screw Moira and her moon goddess nonsense, Vanya had thought back then. She didn’t need some cosmic matchmaker to get a guy—she’d been doing just fine on her own.

She bolted from Ares’ office the second she yanked her pants back on, still zipping up as she went. Ares tried to coax her to stay, let Lachlan and the hunters handle Hollows without her. But she’d clawed her way up to being a damn good hunter, and no one—not even him—was derailing her now.

“Later,” she tossed over her shoulder with a quick, sly smile, then slipped out.

The worst part of their little undercover fling was having to scrub his scent off her skin like it was a crime scene. Couldn’t risk the pack sniffing him on her—gossip spread faster than fleas around the pack. So she darted back to her room, hopped in the shower, and washed him away in record time.

By the time she met up with her crew, she was squeaky clean and ready to roll.

“You take the east, Vanya,” Lachlan barked when they hit the mouth of Hollows Forest. “You and Rowan.”

“I’ve got it solo,” she said, already walking off before he could argue. Lachlan was solid—she respected him as their kappa—but she’d rather eat dirt than pair up. Especially with Rowan. The guy couldn’t shut up if his life depended on it, and half the time it was about Selene. Spare her the torture.

By mid-afternoon, she’d blown past the chunk Lachlan assigned her, boots crunching through the underbrush. She kept moving, ears sharp for any hint of trouble—rustles, snaps, anything off.

As she neared the forest’s edge, the air turned weird, thick with that creepy vibe that made the hairs on her neck stand up. Should’ve been no big deal—she was a hunter, a damn good one, trained by Lachlan himself. Still, something felt… off.

She shut her eyes, focusing, letting her senses stretch out. Then—a sound. Footsteps, too soft, too sneaky for any clumsy human to pull off. Her head whipped around, and there he was—right behind her….

“Killian,” she muttered, the name slipping out like a curse. Three months she’d been chasing this slippery rotter, and every time, he’d danced just out of reach.

Not today, Vanya thought, locking eyes with him—steel-blue and dangerous. Big mistake. Those eyes hooked her like a fish on a line, pulling her under before she could blink.  She still couldn’t believe he could do it. Vampires had the luck of having eyes that could hypnotize anyone. Not that they really needed it for she hadn't really found any shit-looking vampires yet—not even rogues or rotters, as they fondly refer to them.

“Hello again, Red.” His voice came out low, a growl that rippled down her spine and made her skin prickle.

He edged closer, and she froze, rooted to the spot. Part of her—some dumb, reckless corner—almost wanted him to shift and rip her apart, end the whole damn game. But no, just like every other time, he stopped short, hovering close enough to breathe her in, like she was some rare vintage he couldn’t resist sniffing.

Shit. She shuffled back, slow and careful, until her spine thumped against a tree. Trapped. Again.

“Looks like it’s just us now,” Killian murmured, closing the gap with that steady, unblinking stare, lips parted just enough to show a hint of teeth. He planted his hands on either side of her face, caging her against the bark. “Ready to pick up where we left off, Red?”

“Killian.” His scent hit her—woodsy, wild, too damn close—and his lips brushed near hers, barely a whisper away. Her eyes fluttered shut as a messy wave of something—fear, want, fury—surged up, threatening to drown her.

She clawed for focus, for control.

“I asked you before, and I’ll ask again,” he rasped, voice thick and teasing, lips grazing her throat now. “Will you let me taste you if I let you slap those cuffs on me, Red?” The mockery dripped off him like honey.

“Over my dead body,” she snapped, finally scraping together enough grit to shove back. She twisted to break free—and then he was gone, yanked off.

“Ares,” she gasped, blinking hard as reality crashed back in.

Ares didn’t bother with chit-chat. In one fluid move, he whipped out a knife and lunged, aiming straight for Killian’s chest. Killian, though, was too slick—he feinted a strike, baiting Ares into a defensive crouch. Then, quick as a blink, he snatched Vanya and chucked her at Ares like she was a damn rag doll. It bought him just enough time to bolt.

“Fuck!” Vanya yelped, scrambling to her feet, dirt smudging her pants.

And poof—Killian was gone. Again.

She sucked in a breath, trying to catch his scent, but it was useless. Nothing. The bastard had to be masking it with some untraceable crap—otherwise, she’d have had him in cuffs by now.

“Vanya, you okay?” Ares asked, his face a mix of worry and pissed-off energy.

“I’ve been chasing him for months, Ares. So no, I’m not okay with him slipping through my fingers again,” she snapped.

“I meant you. Are you hurt?” His tone softened, but his eyes still burned.

She huffed, annoyance bubbling over. “I had him. I was this close—until you barged in and screwed it up.”

“He could’ve killed you,” Ares shot back, stepping closer.

“Or I could’ve taken him down,” she shouted, not caring who he was or what rank he pulled. She’d been right there, wrestling her own mess, and he’d blown it by playing hero.

“No, Vanya. He had you wrapped around his finger—standing there all doe-eyed, pinned like some lovesick idiot!” Ares yelled, his voice tipping from anger into something greener, jealousy seeping through the cracks.

“You saw that?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Yeah, I saw it.”

“What’s it mean, then? He’s a shifter, not a damn vampire.”

Ares shook his head, looking as thrown as she felt. “I’ll have to run it by my father. That’s not normal.” Then he fixed her with a hard stare. “And you? You’re done hunting solo.”

“What? You can’t do that,” she said, incredulous.

He smirked, smug as hell. “Oh, I can. And you know it.”

“Bite me,” she hissed, venom dripping from the words.

He glanced around the empty woods, then flashed her a crooked grin. “You sure you want me to?”

She glared, heat rising in her chest, and spun on her heel. “Jerk,” she muttered, stomping off, leaving Ares standing there with his stupid smile.