The Hunt (Of Blood and Magic Book 2)

  The Hunt

  Of Blood and Magic

  Delicious David

  Copyright © 2020 Delicious David

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  To all, that stood beside me in every circumstance

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Blurb

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  The End

  Sneak peak from the next book- The Found

  Kindly Subscribe

  About the Author

  My other books

  Acknowledgement

  Blurb

  Having overcome the High Commission's assault force by a hair's breadth, Luke and Becca must now fulfil the prophecy and build their kingdom. To do this, Luke believes they must first find Tyrone, the traitor, who aided the destruction of the Kingdom of Vampires.

  But no one has seen any Vampires in a hundred years. And the High Commission, sensing an uprising, has positioned armed soldiers at all entry points into Transylvania.

  Will Lukai and Becca find the Vampire clan? Or will they get mowed down by the High Commission before they get the chance?

  ♥♥♥

  If you have enjoyed Twilight, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Van Helsing, Dracula stories, and other Vampire slayers/hunter stories or movies then this series is for you.

  Prologue

  A flood of white fluorescent light bathed the oval room as three cloaked figures stepped in. The entire room rose to its feet to welcome the new entrants. Lined along the sides of the massive meeting table, sandwiched between the grey oak paneling and dark-brown ebony chairs was a host of the most highly ranked Wiccans, Lykae, and Vampire Hunters in all of Transylvania. They all had grim shadows on their faces, and before the figures walked in, there had been little to no banter. Guards with massive steel weapons hung in corners, peeled against the wall, yet on high alert.

  There were three chairs at the head of the table, each of which was significantly larger than all the rest. The cloaked figures walked as if in a procession until they reached the massive seats. They each took a seat, and it was only after then that the room resumed a seated position.

  The figures pulled back their hoods. To the left, wrapped in a cloak of camel brown was Bijou, head of the Lykae. He was a hulk of muscle and flesh, wrapped in a shawl of hair as thick as a forest. His eyes blazed dangerously as he surveyed the room. His discomfort was more than apparent to all who were seated. To the right, unveiled behind a cloak of grey the color of a snow owl, Timothy, liege of the Vampire Hunters, sat with a grave expression. His usually kind features were hardened from the burden of unwanted news, and occasionally he let out a raspy exhale that made the lieutenants closest to him shift uneasily in their seats.

  Right at the center, ensconced in a cloak of fiery pink was the High Commissioner herself, Celine, queen of the Wiccans. She wasn’t what one would call old, but her face was sagely, and when she spoke her voice rang with wisdom and power and authority. Today, she cast her gaze methodically across the room in a panorama, eyes glinting like rubies in the sunlight. Her sharp, intelligent hawkish expression only added further tension to the room. In the silence, the air was thick as a slice of bread.

  “Forces of the Transylvania High Commission,” she boomed, her expression not shifting even a little, “We have a problem on our hands.” She didn’t have to speak with her entire mouth open; everyone in the room was well aware of the terror that had unleashed itself on the streets of Transylvania three nights before. Lukai, a serial murderer King of Vampires, who had been chained down in an enchanted prison at the center of the earth for about three hundred years had somehow escaped and was now at large. Everyone in the room had attended Transylvania academy and taken Political History classes, where they had been inundated with stories of the great massacre that had forced the union of the once irreconcilable clans, and Lukai had been at the very center of it—the common enemy. His ruthless reign of terror and an endless appetite for killing, especially in his search for his fated mate from the prophecies, had made the Wiccans, Lykae, and Hunters band together for the first time ever, in their quest for self-preservation. And though the Lykae had vanished at the very last minute, creating a gulf which, fortunately, they had sealed soon after Lukai’s capture with strategic diplomacy, the coalition had been strong enough to end the threat. Until this moment.

  Now, the High Commission had been tremendously successful since Lukai’s capture. They had driven the vampires into the shadows and restored at of law, order, and tranquility in the regions of Transylvania. Lukai’s kingdom in northern Transylvania had fallen to the ground, and a new stronghold had been established at the epicenter of the region, in honor of the coalition’s victory and as a symbol of sustainability. They called it the Transylvanian High Commission. Now, they were gathered on the seven hundredth floor (which was technically a war room), to discuss plans to nip the resurgent terror in the bud.

  “We lost one of our very best yesterdays,” Celine continued, “Seydoo was an excellent soldier. He was committed and loyal to the cause, and he was one of our very best Lykae, until Lukai drove a pole through his heart.” Her voice sounded sharp like needles and tough like steel. And was that a catch they had just heard in her throat? They had never known Celine to be emotional.

  “Elena and Timou were also terribly injured. But we have gotten word that they are on their way back to the stronghold.” Celine exhaled deeply and slowly. “If this tells us anything, it’s that our enemy is as dangerous as he always has been, if not more. Elena, Timou, and Seydoo have been known for years as our Executioners. They were arguably our best squad on the ground, and yet Lukai swatted them like flies. I am as alarmed as I am resolved to avenging this blatant disregard of the power of our great High Commission.”

  Bijou’s eyes narrowed and Timothy ran menacing fingers across the sharp edges of a glinting sword with ancient markings along the hilt. The air in the room seemed to grow colder by the minute so that a white mist hovered in the air with each exhale before dissipating after a few seconds. Golden energy began shimmering around Celine, sending a wave of sharp electricity across the room. The lieutenants gaped, in awe of her raw power.

  Bijou stood almost instantly, hairs standing on end, eyes roving like those of a vulture about to swoop in on a protected carcass. All Lykae in the room rose to their feet immediately, in solidarity with their leader, lips curled with dark purpose. Timothy followed suit, rising to his feet and towering above everyone else in the room with his astonishing height. He strapped his massive sword across his back, displaying arms wrapped in thick black leather. The Hunters rose to join their liege, their vast array of enchanted weapons and hulking frames attracting great attention. Then Celine stood, and almost simultaneously did the Wiccans. With their wands and spell books and spirit animals, they radiated an undeniable cosmic power.

  “We will avenge the death of Seydoo, and restore the honor of the High Commission!” Bijou declared.

  “Hai
!” The room thundered back in affirmative unison.

  “We shall take down the beast and show the vampires their place, once and for all,” Timothy promised, his voice shining with passionate resolve.

  “Hai!”

  Celine’s gaze darkened as she surveyed the room for the last time. Her pink cloak flared beneath, looking like it would catch on fire at any moment. When she spoke, her voice was frostier than a glacier and twice as imposing:

  “The next time we have Lukai, his punishment won’t be eternal imprisonment,” her voice got even colder here, “It’ll be death.”

  ∞∞∞

  Chapter 1

  THE TALK

  WHEN GRAMS came up to the room in the morning, Becca’s energy was already restored. The sage tea had worked like magic, warming her up from the inside. She felt it’s warmth tingling her from the depths of her stomach to the tips of her fingers and toes. Even Luke had found the sage tea therapeutic, almost as though it had accelerated his natural regenerative abilities.

  Becca noticed a new spark in his eyes. It was almost like a fresh awakening. From the corner of her eyes, she caught him licking his lips as his eyes raked her curves, and she could tell that he couldn’t wait to run his tongue all over her pussy. But, at other times, she found him in a trance; a state of deep meditation in which he seemed to have no other care in the world. She felt safe in his arms, in the arms of her destined lover. She loved how importantly his eyes regarded her, and how all of his thoughts seemed to include her. Luke’s eyes were filled with desire, and when she looked in them she felt a huge surge of various sensations, pulsing beneath her skin.

  What she loved the most, however, was the special connection that they shared. Before they faced off against that floating witch, hunter, and werewolf who had attacked Grams’s house and almost mowed down the whole place, they had had special shared moments in the chamber and even in the heat of the battle. She had been able to peer into his memories and feel his motivations as starkly as he felt them. Looking into his mind had also awakened powers in her that she didn’t even realize she possessed. She recalled her heightened sensations during the battle, and the lightning bolt she had summoned from the sky which had taken out the floating witch and saved Luke from second imprisonment. It was like she was his sixth sense, and he hers.

  She heard a vibrant humming sound climb up the stairs to where she lay. Grams was at it again. She loved listening to old boy bands and would wiggle her hips to beats older than Becca’s mother. Most times, Becca would spy on her from a corner, watching as she morphed into a portrait of pure joy. It was Grams who had taught her that music was life. Music could heal. Luke didn’t seem to fancy music much, though, as she watched his face slowly scrunch up as the sound of ancient music filled the room, potent and nostalgic.

  “Are you okay?” She asked, opening her mouth for the first time.

  Luke’s crimson eyes registered on her, paling straightaway from fierce concentration into a delicate tenderness that sent chills racing up her spine. But his face was far from relaxed.

  “I sense a wave coming,” he told her, forehead creased into neat rows from frowning, “We need to find my kin. And fast.”

  Becca felt his pain without needing to look into his eyes. She had never had to lead anything, much less an entire nation. Luke had been King of Vampires before his capture and imprisonment, and she could tell that he felt guilty for the decline of his empire and the fall of his people. She wanted to tell him not to be too hard on himself. He had been betrayed by one of his own right-hand men. Plus, he had fought for the integrity of his people up until the last minute. It wasn’t his fault that he had been kept in that dreadful hole for those many centuries, and it was definitely not his fault that the prophecy that catalyzed all this had been issued.

  She admired him, in fact. The fact that every waking moment since his escape had been centered around finding his people and reclaiming his lost kingdom showed that he possessed laser-sharp focus. She had always been one to love people who could set their sights on the goal. Most especially, she loved this goal. He would erase three hundred years of miscarried justice, restore the integrity of his people, and rebuild his kingdom. And she would be there by his side through the thick and thin of it; his queen.

  Still, she didn’t know what she could say that would be sufficient to dampen the fires in his heart and provide him succor, howbeit temporary. The words just wouldn’t form in her mind. And now, she could feel the early stirrings of panic. If she’d learned anything in the past couple of days, it was that Luke fucked like a god, but also that he had acute instincts. He had just mentioned that he felt a wave coming. Becca felt her hand move involuntarily to the center of her neck and finger the pendant that had warned her of danger as far back as she could remember. It felt cold, lifeless. There was no incandescent, warning glow in the oval, red ruby. They were still safe, for now. But the worry was rapidly stealing the sleep from her.

  The door opened silently to reveal the charming face of Grams. The glow on her face was so wide, Becca could’ve sworn that Christmas came early. Her face was alive and her features softer. Every day, Grams seemed to grow younger. Becca felt a fire ignite in the pit of her stomach at the sight of her.

  “Hey Sunshine,” Grams beamed at Becca, after offering Luke a curt nod, “How do you feel this morning?”

  “Refreshed, actually,” Becca responded, her voice cracking from having just woken up. Luke’s blood had accelerated her healing after she sucked it from his wrist. Then they had had explosive sex. Becca could remember staring at Luke’s cock in all its fullness (like really taking her time to stare at it) for the first time. It was large and sexy and straight like a dagger. And it had felt like heaven in her pussy.

  Grams’s face enlarged into the sunshine at Becca’s response. When she entered a room, she exuded so much radiance that even the most depressed person would consider thinking happy thoughts. It was no wonder then, that most folk wouldn’t consider her as much of a threat. She appeared sweet, supple, and harmless, but she was tough as industrial nails.

  “I’m glad you’re all better,” Grams said, then her tone suddenly became brisk, “Because we need to talk about your guest here.”

  Becca could understand Grams’s apparent disdain for Luke. He had put her in danger (at least so it had seemed at the beginning), attracted dangerous forces to her doorstep, and he was supposed to be a bloodthirsty mass murderer. When it came to first impressions, Luke didn’t exactly excel.

  “I know you have a ton of question, and concerns, Grams, but Luke is—” the counter case spilled from Becca’s mouth faster than she could think, but Grams would have none of it.

  “You know how it goes, pumpkin,” she smiled, her silencing right index finger hovering in the air between them, “All vital conversations happen by the fireplace.”

  “Arrrrrgh,” Becca groaned, but it was more playful than rude, “Tradition will be the end of you, Grams!”

  Grams chuckled, her jaunty nose thrown to point at the ceiling as she threw back her head. “I’ll see you downstairs, and there’ll be butter cookies.” Grams winked, and turned on her heels to head right back down the stairs. It was only then that Becca noticed that she’d been wearing her baking apron.

  She looked in Luke’s direction, wanting to mouth an apology for Grams’s apparent mistrust, but she was taken aback by the smirk on his face. “You love butter cookies?” He teased, laughing a short, wicked laugh.

  Why did he find that hilarious? She lobbed a pillow at him and she rose to her feet, and they both dissolved into peals of laughter. Then the shadow crept back into Luke’s features once again, evaporating the brightness that had just been there. Becca refrained from pursuing it. Luke had a lot of baggage on his shoulder, and, howbeit unfair, his fears had legitimate foundations. While she wanted him full of energy and burning with passionate fire, she also understood the vital importance of allowing him to feel what he needed to feel. The pain was a scary se
nsation, but pain could also be a powerful fuel when harnessed the right way.

  She was just happy that she could shine some brightness into his gloom, whether or not occasionally. She felt a hand smack her ass as she walked to the door and grab it, sending waves of pleasure up her spine. She glanced back to see Luke’s face alight, his pants zipper swollen from the girth of his rising cock.

  The aroma of sweet spices greeted their noses as they climbed down the spiral staircase. Luke asked if Grams was burning incense and Becca couldn’t help but chuckle. She recalled how intrigued Luke had been by the statuettes and origami figurines lining the mantelpiece when they walked in the previous day. There was so much he had missed; so much to catch up on.

  Grams had settled her best transparent glass table at the center of the seating area by the fireplace. Becca’s father had fashioned it during a tour of the grand glass factories in Norway and returned with it as his most prized souvenir; a memento of the fancy product of the marriage between an adventurous mind and adventurous hands. Every time her eyes came across it, most usually in Grams’ study, her mind would well up with a million emotions. Even as she studied the intricate designs chipped into its many corners, she felt her eyes glaze over. Grams had always had a flair for the dramatic.

  “Have a seat,” she beckoned to Becca, tapping a firm finger on the soft leather cushion adjacent her chair, leaving Luke to sit directly opposite her.

  She offered Becca a mug of sweet-smelling cinnamon tea. It tasted even sweeter as it hit her tongue. Luke, on the other hand, seemed a bit too tense to hold his mug straight. Becca thought she was imagining things but was Luke shaking slightly in the legs?

  “You are a danger to my granddaughter.” Grams said out of nowhere, throwing Becca off her seat. She sputtered, ejecting a tiny jet of tea back into her mug. Luke seemed just as thrown, if not more.