Hunting Human - Amanda E. Alvarez [1]
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter One
“Just pick one. There’s a blonde by the bar, tits that bounce every time she laughs.”
Markko snorted. She was, as Alek said, blonde. Generous tits. American, judging by her clothing. And completely oblivious to the predators in the room.
Boring.
“She’ll scream,” Alek offered, eyes never leaving the woman. “Probably beg…”
“They all scream.” Markko grunted in frustration, tossed his cigarette to the floor and ground it out. “They all beg.”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” Alek sighed and shifted, adjusting his crotch, with his gaze still locked on the blonde.
Markko looked away from the girl, his eyes moving over the crowd. “Forget the blonde. We aren’t here to indulge your preferences.”
“Fine,” Alek grumbled.
Markko stalked away from him, shoving through the throng of dancers. He sneered at the smell of them: sex, sweat and alcohol. As remarkable as the rodents that scurried along the forest floor. None of them interesting. None of them challenging.
None of them worthy.
This was for Ivan. A celebration of his baby brother’s birthright.
I’ll find the one that makes it memorable.
Rachel always managed to talk her into these things.
One. I agreed to one drink.
Liz sighed. She should have known better; she never seemed to learn her lesson. Now, three and half hours, two pubs and one seedy after-hours club later, bad American ’80s music blared from the speakers and her tennis shoes kept sticking to whatever concoction covered the floor. She was fairly certain her ears were bleeding and so much smoke hung in the air that her eyelids were beginning to feel like sandpaper.
Time to end the evening.
Liz worked her way back to the bar where she had left Rachel with several other hostel residents they’d been hanging out with for most of the night. Rachel’s flirty laugh—the one that signaled she was more than a little tipsy—bubbled out past the circle of guys surrounding her bar stool. Liz maneuvered past and slid through bodies, making her way up to Rachel, who was laughing, flashing perfect white teeth and tossing her straight blonde hair. The pint in her hand, the one that had been nearly empty when Liz went to find the bathroom, was full again. How many did that make? Liz had no idea. It was harder to keep track when Rachel wasn’t paying for them herself.
“Rachel…” Someone shouldered their way to the bar, shoving Liz forward. She made a desperate grab for the countertop, narrowly avoiding crashing into her friend. She didn’t manage to avoid Rachel’s full pint. Grimacing as the liquid soaked into the bottom of her sweater and the top of her jeans, she shot an offended glare over her shoulder.
Cold gray eyes held her gaze. The man’s face was a study in contrasts. His features were angular—sharp cheekbones and a broad forehead, with a nose slightly too large to be ideal. Though young, his skin looked aged and rough, and the two-day-old stubble told her hygiene wasn’t high on his list of priorities. His eyes were unusual, the color of cold steel and every bit as hard. A small scar ran horizontally through his left eyebrow and curved down to form a hook around the outside of his eye. His dark hair was shorn close to his head, a few tiny scars visible where his temple met his hairline. It could have been a handsome face, compelling at least, had he been clean-shaven with longer hair to soften the sharpness of his features. His eyes flashed and his lips thinned under her scrutiny. He straightened from where he lounged against the bar, his body issuing a challenge as he pushed himself to full height, towering over Liz’s five-foot-seven frame.
His gaze raked deliberately down her slender body, leaving Liz with the