Hunter

HUNTER PART I KING’S MEN MC BOOK ONE V.T. DO CONTENTS Content & Trigger Warnings Prologue: Roman 1. Ryleigh 2. Ryleigh 3. Roman 4. Ryleigh 5. Roman 6. Roman 7. Roman 8. Roman 9. Ryleigh 10. Roman 11. Ryleigh 12. Ryleigh 13. Roman 14. Ryleigh 15. Ryleigh 16. Roman 17. Ryleigh 18. Ryleigh 19. Roman 20. Ryleigh 21. Roman 22. Ryleigh 23. Ryleigh 24. Ryleigh 25. Ryleigh Epilogue: Roman CONTENT & TRIGGER WARNINGS Please note, this is a dark romance. The actions taken by the hero are questionable at best, and some readers may find them triggering. It includes: Questionable consent Unprotected sex Stalking Violence Somnophilia Voyeurism PROLOGUE: ROMAN I looked down at the nasty line running up my forearm, starting from the edge of where my palm met my wrist and carefully stopping before it reached the inside of my elbow. As if the person who had done this to me had been careful. I closed my eyes and balled my hand into a fist, the pain burning as I stretched the muscles. This was going to leave a nasty scar. Not that I gave a fuck about scars, but hell, the fact that I didn’t see the fucker had come in with his friend told me exactly where my mind had been. Totally fucked. The fucker was a scrawny one, and his friend wasn’t much bigger. They shouldn’t have been able to get to me, even if I had been outnumbered. But they did, and I now bore the mark of my carelessness. With a sigh, I uncapped the water bottle and poured it down my arms, watching as the clear water turned from a light red to pink, washing away the blood and dirt around the wound. The angry skin surrounding it stared back at me, and I finished off the water bottle with a huge gulp before shoving it back into my backpack. My eyes scanned the surroundings. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen this big of an open space. California had seemed like worlds away from when I lived in West Virginia, but after a brief stint in the state prison for beating the shit out of the mayor’s son, coming here seemed like a good option to start over. Micah was here. He was the only family I had left. And he couldn’t leave because of the MC. The King’s Men MC was one of the most ruthless MCs in the west. I didn’t know exactly what they did since it was club business, and I was sure most of it was something they wouldn’t want advertised to the public. Micah was a club member, but I knew his more official title was the enforcer. How apt, considering my big brother was one big scary and crazy motherfucker. Protective, too. That was probably one of the reasons why I decided to move halfway across the country in the first place. I didn’t want to have to constantly live in his shadow. And now I was coming back with my tail tucked between my fucking legs—figuratively speaking. I shook my head and headed to where I had parked my bike. I took in the small luggage strapped to the back. Everything in my twenty-five years of life, shoved in a small case. The boots I wore, my only pair of shoes, had a small scuff on the tips, no doubt would tear into a hole soon. I had five hundred dollars to my name, and I didn’t know how the fuck things had gotten to this point. I could laugh over the way my life had turned, even if there was nothing humorous about the situation I was in. I looked around one last time, taking in the scenery, and was about to hop on the back of my bike when a soft childish grunt came out. I frowned and looked up, trying to determine where the noise had come from. Some scuffling came out from my left, and then another grunt, followed by the sound I had heard a million times before. The fucking sound of a slap. A child cried out, and I felt all the blood in my body roar to life. What the fuck? I quickly followed the sound and came up to a small cliff I had been at no more than twenty minutes prior. The afternoon sun beat down on the back of my neck, and I squinted around, trying to get my eyes to focus. I found two figures underneath a large oak tree by the edge of the cliff. A man and a small child. I couldn’t see the man clearly since he was wearing a black cap that hid his face from my view, but I could see the girl. Black, midnight hair tied in two braids that had long ago come apart, to big light-colored eyes that seemed to take too much from her face. A small set of elvish-like ears stuck out from her small, oval-shaped face, a prominent nose, and a slight figure. “Shut it. Look what you made me do. I wouldn’t have hit you if you just listened,” the man grunted out. My nostrils flared, and I took a few quiet steps closer. The girl child was small. Too small to be facing off against the fucker, who had his filthy arms wrapped around her slender shoulders. She struggled to get away, her eyes widening a bit in pain when I assumed the fucker tightened his hold around her. At first glance, she looked all about ten, maybe twelve. I realized she was a little older than that the closer I got. Fourteen or fifteen, perhaps. But she was a tiny little thing. And she was fucking terrified. Her eyes seemed to have gotten even bigger, the blood draining from her face. My fist clenched as I sized up my new opponent. I had about fifty pounds on the fucker, and several inches in height. I’d tower over