The hunted, p.1
The Hunted, page 1
The Hunted
Maggie Sunseri
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The Hunted
Maggie Sunseri
https://maggiesunseri.com
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Copyright © 2022 Maggie Sunseri
eBook Edition
This work is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review or article.
Also by Maggie Sunseri
THE LOST WITCHES OF ARADIA
The Discovered
The Coveted
The Illuminated
The Hunted
The Scorned
The Claimed
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THE AWAKEN SERIES (Young Adult Series)
Awaken
Arisen
For those brave enough to confront their own shadow.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Note from Maggie
Also by Maggie Sunseri
About Maggie Sunseri
The Scorned - Book Description
The Scorned - Excerpt
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 1
I was in Lucius’s bed again. The room was dimly lit, the silk beneath me cool and sleek. I was wearing nothing but that black slip with lace trim—the one I’d worn when I let his commanding, all-consuming energy tether me to this realm—when he instructed me to heal my cut wrists and I did it. Not for me. For him.
The gold chandelier above went dark suddenly, and the room filled with black shadows that screamed and suffocated. Everything turned cold, and I trembled from panic.
I sat up, unable to see through the shroud of black. The void was so lonely. So vast. Like the blank canvas of space before the great burst of all of creation. I pulled my knees to my chest, waiting for the spark that would drive it all away.
A hand met mine, and the screams ceased. The darkness opened up; soft light chased away the slithering black tendrils of smoke. Everything was quiet as the King’s piercing blue eyes found mine.
“It can’t hurt us,” he promised, his gaze deep. His alluring energy wrapped around us like a fortress and crackled like lightning. “You’re safe here.”
“What does it want?” I asked, my voice shaking. I never wanted to feel that cold or alone ever again. When he grasped my face in his palms, I steadied.
“More,” he answered, his breath feathering against my cheek. “It always wants more.”
That should’ve terrified me, but it didn’t now. Not with Lucius here, driving it all away, anchoring me in the eye of the storm.
“I want more too,” I whispered.
He smiled, his eyes somehow sharp and soft at once, his energy both the most terrifying and seductive thing I’d ever felt inside of me.
“I know you do.” He pushed me onto my back, angling himself over me. “It can’t touch you. Only I can do that.” His words soothed all of my lingering fear of the void’s perilous depths.
A slender finger trailed down from my lips to the lace of the slip in the center of my chest. When I shuddered, his gaze darkened.
He leaned in at the same time as he pushed my head to the side, exposing my neck. His lips were at my ear, his tongue meeting the rough spot of the scar he left that day in the astrals. The day I—
His teeth scraped against my skin.
I screamed.
The whole world shook and spun, a loud crashing and popping ringing in my ears. An explosion of color and movement ripped me from that bedroom and spit me back out into the landscape of the cosmos, where everything was dark and quiet but in a comforting way—a way that felt like home.
Beneath my feet, flat earth manifested, and with it a field of gravity. I sucked in air, still reeling, struggling to regain the structure of my ego. Whoever the hell I was in that dream was not me.
I spun around, taking in the barren astral landscape. The ground beneath me was solid and white, like a crystal moon in the middle of space. Stars and galaxies sparkled and swirled in all their color and light.
I crossed my arms, and a shiver curled along my spine as I reacclimated. Where was my physical body?
I took a step back and yelped as my body collided against someone else’s. I turned, only to come face to face with Lucius. His nostrils flared, his energy subdued in this realm but visible enough to be dark and fiery. He was even wearing his silly golden crown.
My blood boiled. Now I understood completely.
“You,” I spat, taking a quick step back.
“Me?” he parroted. A vein pulsed in his neck. “I feel like that should’ve been my line.”
“What?” I shook my head. “Was it not enough to force yourself on me in the physical realm? Now you have to do it in my dreams?” I clenched my fists, my power preparing for both aggression and defense at once.
The rage on his face dissolved, replaced by amusement and a smirk. My physical body was in Iciera, with Daelon. Yes. It was all coming back to me. We freed the truth from Lucius’s magickal binds, survived our escape, and made it to a remote coven hidden from the King’s reign of terror.
“You lost, Lucius. Now leave me the fuck alone.”
He laughed, but his eyes were dark and calculating as he studied me. His gaze traveled the length of my body, and I realized in horror that I was somehow still wearing the black slip.
“You’re the one who pulled me here, dear Áine,” he said softly. “But I would love to hear more about this dream of yours.”
Then I remembered how he’d slit Santana’s throat in retaliation, her blood flowing toward me like a river as I left her behind. Seething hatred rippled through my blood, almost as deep as the sour taste of guilt.
Lucius’s contemplative gaze and cocked head, and the way the corners of his lips were turned up, was the last image I saw before I exploded in a burst of white hot light and snapped back into my body.
Daelon and I were cocooned together, my nude body against his under a pile of blankets. My head was on his chest, my legs tangled with his as his arms held me to him. We must’ve dozed off again soon after awaking the first time in this new place. This free place.
The smell of spices and cooking still wafted through the air, and my stomach rumbled in response. The hunger pangs were sharp and biting now. My adrenaline had been pumping too strongly before for me to feel any pain at all—aside from the utter anguish of witnessing my new friend bleeding out on the ground before us. I hadn’t eaten since before I… died. I’d died. Then I’d escaped the supposed all-powerful, illegitimate King of Aradia with the love of my life.
It had been an eventful week. I knew that Daelon had barely eaten or slept the four days I was dead, during which he guarded my lifeless body like a feral animal, driving himself to hallucinations.
I shuddered, nuzzling closer to his bare chest. I counted his heartbeats, listening for their steady rhythm to ground me here, to keep me from slipping into the memories that haunted and tormented. Like when I thought he’d died in my arms out in the snow, when all the hope of our deliverance had been replaced by desperation and terror. He stirred when I clutched him tighter, and his heart picked up its pace.
I lifted my head, suddenly aware of the faint humming and footsteps somewhere nearby. I figured it was the woman who rescued us, but I didn’t think much about her now as I found Daelon’s eyes.
“You need to eat,” I blurted.
He blinked. Then he broke out into a slow grin. “Isn’t that my line?”
I started to smile back, but those words brought back the memory of my dream and subsequent astral travel. It could be hard to tell the difference between the two, but I knew the first was a dream because it was hazier now that I was in waking life. The second felt just as real as any other memory… which meant either Lucius had found a way to twist my dreams into the creepy and demented, for whatever psychopathic reason, or my subconscious had decided to torture me.
It had to have been Lucius.
But I didn’t want to think about any of that, and especially not him, for as long as possible. I wouldn’t let him ruin our first moments of freedom.
As I stared into the dark brown of Daelon’s eyes, flecked with tendrils of gold, I realized with an aching sadness that this was his first moment of freedom in more than two decades.
“You’re free,” I said, and his hands stopped their slow trail down t he length of my back.
His brows creased. “We both are.”
I nodded. I didn’t want to call attention to my realization if he wasn’t already thinking it. Daelon had spent nearly his entire life doing the bidding of the people who slaughtered his parents and everyone he’d ever known and loved. The people who burned our home to the ground and enclosed it in an impenetrable barrier, sealing the magick of the land that had been cultivated for centuries. And they did it all for the promise of power that would break the Universe’s natural balance of give and take, ebb and flow, and in turn mold the world to the authoritarian nightmare of their making. The shadow magick that Lucius now fed and sustained was strengthened by suffering, displacement, and cruelty. It had poisoned him and everyone and everything he touched. It was breaking down the barriers between dimensions and eroding all natural magick. If he continued, he just might destroy not only Aradia, but also Earth, the astrals, and even realms unknown to humans and witches.
Now that I’d liberated the truth of Lucius’s unnatural power from their binds, all of Aradia was free to learn who he really was. They could learn why he was torturing witches in his vast underground dungeons and erasing entire covens from the map, and in turn they would understand that the myths he’d told about his ascension to the throne were a load of shit. He wasn’t chosen by the heavens and made a god. He was a psychopathic tyrant, and deities hated him. I remembered fondly a god striking him in the astrals with a bolt of lightning, which was proof enough he was despised in more than one realm of existence.
I took in a breath as Daelon and I silently held each other’s gazes. If I was anyone else, our escape could’ve been the end of the story. We could decide to settle here, free to finally learn and explore everything about each other, and live the way our parents lived. We could let others fight the battles ahead.
But I wasn’t someone else. I was Áine, Keeper of the Old Ways, born of magick and hope to save the world from its shadow and restore balance.
“Let’s eat, then,” Daelon said, one hand now skimming my cheek. I leaned into his palm, and the look in his eyes drove all other thoughts away. It was a look of a man who’d been reverently tasked in protecting the woman he fell in love with, only to watch her die and then return to life four days later.
“We’re very naked,” I said, finally tuning in to the humming in the distance.
The melody halted. “I laid some clothes out for y’all on the chair,” the witch called from another room. “Supper’s ready whenever you are.” Her voice was deep and cheerful, complementary to the earthy browns, reds, and greens of her aura. It was accented similarly to people I’d known from the Southern United States back on Earth, though I hadn’t heard enough accents from that region to pinpoint the exact dialect.
Daelon tensed at the sound of her voice, gripping my waist tightly for a moment before he seemed to remember we were safe. That I was safe.
I kissed next to his mouth, and he let go. I rose and spotted the neatly folded clothing on a deep brown chair. This living area was cozy and softly lit by a dimmed light fixture above. Additional chairs were angled toward the fire. The décor was warm and nature-themed, a painting hung on a far wall depicting two children—a boy and a girl—playing in an autumnal forest. Luminescent butterflies fluttered around them, and small animals scurried underneath bramble. I paused, lost in the emotions of the brushstrokes as they flowed into me. An overpowering wave of nostalgia and childlike awe almost brought me to my knees.
Daelon’s lips found my shoulder, and he reached around me for the clothes. I looked away from the painting to meet his eyes, and even without my ability to read him I knew the imagery had evoked the same reaction. It reminded us of what the Order had stolen—what we could never get back.
He passed me a pair of formfitting, soft, black pants, a knitted cream sweater, and plain black undergarments. He pulled on his own pair of boxers, dark denim pants, and a long-sleeved black shirt.
“Jeans!” I exclaimed, the sudden outburst startling Daelon as he fastened a belt to mitigate their loose fit.
He glanced at me with wide eyes, bemused.
“I kept telling Clarice how much I missed jeans. I’m just happy to see normal clothing again,” I explained with a sheepish shrug.
He grinned. “Me too.”
Daelon stood close to me as we followed the smell of food into the kitchen. I was perplexed to see green plants hanging outside a window above the sink, as if we were no longer in an uninhabitable, snowy wasteland. The counters were sleek, shiny wood, and the cabinets were painted red. There were oven mitts, spices, and fresh vegetables strewn about. The kitchen was just as warm and cozy as the rest of the house, and I was amazed at the way our host’s aura melded into the energy of the home and the land surrounding it. Everything was… perfectly balanced.
Everything was right, and I hadn’t realized just how polluted, unsettling, and grim our existence in the castle had been until now. I knew Aradia wasn’t meant to feel that way. It wasn’t the land my mothers had told me about in bedtime stories. Iciera was, though. I’d only been here a matter of hours, and I knew absolutely nothing about its landscapes and its inhabitants, but I already knew.
This was how it was supposed to be. And despite all of what had brought us here, I was still flooded with so much gratitude and relief that we’d made it.
The woman who’d saved us turned from where she was cleaning a cutting board at the sink, flashing us a dimpled, crooked grin. She wore a burnt orange sweater and loose-fitting brown slacks, again easily matching her aura. Her light brunette hair was in a messy bun, and she appeared to be in early adulthood like us. She had light skin just slightly tanned from the sun, dark brows, and honey brown eyes. Her full lips had a prominent cupid’s bow.
She wiped her hands on a nearby towel. “I’m Prairie. It’s nice to finally meet you properly. Glad to see y’all up and movin’ about.” She eyed Daelon with a raised brow as he stepped just ahead of me, in a clear defensive stance.
I tugged on his arm. I can read her, remember? We’re safe.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, shaking his head as he stepped back. “I’m Daelon.”
“And I’m Áine.”
“No worries,” Prairie said, though something edgy flashed in her aura for a moment, almost as if Daelon had offended her. “I’d imagine it wasn’t an easy journey to get here,” she offered. “But it’s just regular folks around here. No one’s treated better or worse than anyone else. We just want peace.” She busied herself with putting away dishes and pans as she spoke.
I detected a tone in her voice with hidden meaning that I couldn’t quite decipher. I nodded, and Daelon stilled at my side. I glanced over to see that his eyes were calculating. He was parsing through Prairie’s words just as I was, his demeanor still made rigid by his role as Commander—or perhaps his duty as my protector—and I was caught between finding it comforting and off-putting.
“Anyway, I know you’ll need some time to recover and recuperate. I’m heading to my folks’ house, and you’re free to stay here until… well, until you have a talk with Ruth and Jesco, er, I mean the High Priestess and Priest. And things are more decided,” she said vaguely. “But don’t worry about any of it for now. I’ll try to hold them off for a couple days, but knowing Ruth, she’s already got her ear pressed up against my front door.” She shook her head and laughed to herself. “There’s plenty of food and whatever else you need. Make yourselves right at home.”
“Thank you,” I said. “For saving us. And for opening your home to us.”
