Huntress and The Alpha

3. Cloaked

Irina

The journey to the Hunter Council headquarters on the outskirts of Moscow was uneventful. After drinking four cups of coffee, I was summoned to Demetri’s office - alone. Alec looked relieved and disappeared into his old room.

Usually, we debrief together. I wasn’t sure why I got the solo pleasure. Maybe I should visit the biologics department in case they’d perfected that caffeine drip? I’d need it for whatever Demetri wanted us for. The last time he dragged us back, there was bedlam in China with a mass of rogue wolves. A vengeful warlock had sent them crazy after his mate refused him. It was a big f*****g mess.

I shuffled my feet. Demetri’s office hadn’t changed in twenty years. The mahogany desk with its enormous, high-backed leather chair was unchanged. Bookcases full of ancient-looking tomes flanked the room on both sides, many written in Latin or languages long dead. While waiting for Demetri, I perused them once, but my ancient Greek was not the best. I wondered how many Demetri had inherited from previous Hunter Council heads. Everything was neat and sparkling clean. Demetri did not like dirt.

Demetri’s arrival pulled me from my contemplation. He swept in and sat in his high-backed chair. He rested his chin on his steepled fingers and studied me with his dark eyes. Jet black hair like mine, he kept it slicked back, never a hair out of place, sharp pale features with a strong nose and dark eyes. His goatee was narrow and dark, gracing his chin, just as groomed as his hair. His face was smooth and wrinkle-free, giving nothing away of his age. He looked around forty. Pure blood hunters, although technically human, age like other supernaturals because of their beasts. His actual age could range from forty to seventy.

Some people joked that he bewitched his hair to be perfect, although it wasn’t a joke anyone would ever utter to him. Demetri wasn’t someone to be fooled with. I thought his hair was perfect because no one got close enough to make it a mess. He was a deadly fighter who wielded a large amount of power and command.

Demetri was the only other pureblood hunter aside from me. He had a dragon and was part witch. He didn’t 'have' a witch; it was part of him. Instead of changing his appearance, he could wield magic, and unlike Alec, he had complete control of it. It was his dominant power.

Rumor was his mate was a powerful witch who had been killed in a battle with the Fae just after they met. They never bonded, and he managed not to go crazy without her, that’s why the elders groomed him to become our leader.

If we had been a wolf pack, Demetri would have been our alpha with command over us, granted by the elders to make sure we, their weapons, stayed in line.

I realized that I’d been staring at him and didn't hear what he said. s**t.

“I apologize, sir. My mind wandered off for a minute. It has been a long trip.”

Not that he cared about dragging us back across Europe so soon after completing our last mission.

“Indeed.” His deep, calm voice held a thick Russian accent, one he never masked in all the years I had known him. We needed to blend in wherever we were on a mission, so my voice was accent-less. Unless I became angry - which wasn’t often - then my Russian lilt would appear.

“I imagine you are wondering why I recalled you here?”

No s**t.

“Yes, sir, what is it you need me for?” I opted for politeness as I wanted my bed.

His thin lips curved into a half-smile. It wasn’t a look I’d seen before; his face was usually expressionless. Somehow, it was more unnerving.

“I need you and Alec in America. California. Vampires. I will brief you both later.”

“What about Erik?” I asked before I could stop myself. “Sir,” I added, hoping it would come off less like a demand.

I hadn’t seen Erik in a month, and although he sometimes went off on missions alone, it was uncommon for him to miss consecutive missions.

“Erik has a mission already. He will join you when that is done.”

Demetri’s half-grin had gone, replaced by his more typical sharp look that said, 'don’t question my orders unless you like pain.' He rarely shouted or swore as his deadly calm was enough. He punished hunters who stepped out of line without mercy, some never returned. To say he ran a tight ship was an understatement. Nothing got by him.

“Okay.”

I guess Erik’s skill set was needed elsewhere, but I missed him. Plus, no one sparred like he did. Sadness must have shown on my face.

“Do you have a problem with it, Irina?”

He never used my nickname, only ever my full name. He was always so formal.

“No sir, of course not.”

It never did well to show emotion in front of Demetri. He hated it. He believed hunters should always be in control of their feelings. A reason he didn’t get along with Alec or Erik. He only tolerated them because our team was the best hunting unit at the council.

His lips formed a tight line, and he nodded. He stood and walked to face the bookcase. His long limbs and sharp-lined suit added to his intimidating aura.

I was unsure why he couldn’t have given us this new assignment in Barcelona. Sure, it didn’t sound great, but it wasn’t at m******e level by the sound of it, and I wasn’t sure why Alec didn’t get the pleasure of this meeting too. What was it that took Erik weeks?

“I suspect you will find your mate this year, Irina,” his voice was quiet.

I clutched my chair. Where the hell had that come from?

“This is what he brought you back to talk about,” said my siren. She was shrewd and often read people’s intent.

I reeled at this change of pace. Why were we discussing this?

“What? I don’t feel the pull. I never have.”

They said I would feel a pull on turning twenty-one, a gravity towards my mate, but I’ve never sensed it. Maybe I wasn't meant to have one. I assumed he was dead. Most shifters and hybrids could sense their mates at eighteen, but pureblood hunters were later.

“What makes you so sure I will meet them this year?” My thoughts felt jumbled.

The council discharges hunters as soon as they find their mates; there is too much emotional connection - a weakness they always taught us. It could compromise missions. They made out like you lost all focus. I wasn’t too sure about that; I was considerably well-schooled in maintaining control. As the lead hunter on the team, my mate would cause the team to be disbanded.

As the years passed, I wondered if I’d take over from Demetri as head of the council. Not that it excited me, I’d never been one for power plays, but it seemed like the logical conclusion. A sudden vision of me old and gray, still at the behest of the elders, made me shiver.

Either way, I’d decided long ago that losing my team was too high a price, even if I gained a mate who wanted me. Sometimes I ached with loneliness, but mostly I felt I deserved it.

“The elders have been questioning why you haven’t found your mate.” Demetri’s voice cut across my mental chatter. There was a hard tone to his voice, as if he didn’t appreciate their input.

“Are they in a rush to get rid of me?”

Were my mission abilities being questioned?

“They are happy with your mission record. I would keep you.” He gripped a stone paperweight in his hand, knuckles white. “But it's not up to me.”

It was rare to hear any inflection in Demetri’s voice at all. He must hold me in higher esteem than I imagined if he didn’t want to lose me as a hunter.

"Being unhappy about the situation will not just make my mate appear, though.”

The air moved past me. One minute Demetri was by the bookcase, and the next, he was inches from my face. His arms slammed down and caged me to the chair. His face was livid; his eyes flashed reptilian green, then endless pools of black before they returned to their usual dark brown. I smelled the vodka on his breath as it fanned my face.

“Those meddling old bastards think they can take what’s mine. You are MINE!”

I suppressed the urge to flinch back in the chair, thankful for my training. I was in shock at how angry he was. He never showed emotion. He seemed to register his total lack of control and leaned back, taking a slow breath.

“What I mean is that you are my hunter. Just because they’ve decided doesn’t give them the right to take you.” He stood up and straightened his tie. Regret flashed across his features.

Regret at losing control or regret at the thought of losing me? My mind ran at a mile a minute. I needed to think about his weird possessiveness later.

I swallowed. “What do they want to do?”

“Use magic to enhance your bond and find your mate. However, your bond is being blocked by dragon magic. Dragons often use concealment to cloak their possessions. Even witches struggle to attain that level of cloaking.” He sat back in his winged chair, and the leather creaked with his weight.

“Why would a dragon cloak me from finding my mate?”

It made no sense. Erik was the only dragon I knew. Sure, I’d met and fought with the dragon king years back, but why would he cloak me?

“Dragon concealment is for material possessions, only occasionally used on people, usually mates.” His tone was detached. “There is a prophecy of a pureblood hunter with the power of three beasts. It is written that they will meet their mate and convert to that race. They will become the new ruling power and prevent war from breaking out, maintaining peace between species.” He paused. “Therefore, they are eager to move things along. You are the only pureblood hunter ever known to have three beasts.”

Now I was in trouble. A prophecy? This was getting crazier and crazier. Had I fallen into some alternate dimension where Demetri showed emotion, and nothing made sense?

Demetri had always been firm about keeping all my beasts secret. I only ever trained my wolf side when I was alone with Erik. Everyone knew I had a dragon and a siren. My siren was my physical disguise. I could change my appearance to her and complete any ‘plain sight’ missions in disguise. Now the elders knew of my three beasts, too.

“What?” I said, around a lump in my throat.

I wasn’t even sure how I felt about prophecies anyway. Despite living in a world of supernaturals, surrounded by magic, I still preferred to believe in evidence and proof, not something a crazy person wrote ages ago. f**k, my head pounded. I hadn’t had enough sleep for this s**t.

“Drink this.”

Demetri retrieved a small goblet from the bookshelf. His voice was clear, with a command behind it. It shocked me from the mental maelstrom that his earlier words had caused.

“Why?”

“This is a potion prepared by Eliza, the witch elder, to uncloak you.” He pushed the goblet toward my side of the desk.

“Okay?” I said, making no move to pick it up.

Did I want to drink some s**t an elderly witch had made? Given to me by a partly deranged version of Demetri who had just given me information that I couldn’t compute? Er, no. Was I going to be given a choice? Probably not.

I reached over. The goblet was half-full of a purple, viscous liquid that looked disgusting. When I swirled it around, it moved like mud. Ugh.

“Can I think about it?” My voice was cautious.

“No!” Demetri stood to his feet, and his wing-backed chair tipped over from the rush. It crashed to the floor as rage played across his face.

Oh s**t! I had set him off again.

“Drink. It. Now!” He loomed over the desk towards me.

His command forced my head down. Blood bound to the Hunter Council, I had to submit to his command. I knocked the potion back. It would not make the top shelf. It tasted like piss and burned its way down my esophagus. Fire licked at my insides as it unfurled out from my stomach until it reached every limb, then it raced up my spine and encased my head in flames. My vision span and Demetri’s angry face swam into view as something joyous chased across his features. Maybe he was glad to get rid of me? Flames continued licking at me as the darkness engulfed me whole.