Harvey York’s Rise to Power

#Chapter 83 – The Hunt

Victor and the members of the hunt prowl through the streets of the city, searing for their prey. They

sniff the air and follow their instincts, seeking their other halves, the partners with whom they will

consummate their hunt. For those amongst his parties who are mated pairs, this means their partners,

who will be attending Amelia’s simultaneous bachelorette.

For those who are unmated and unmarried, it means finding the someone who will slake their desires

that evening, an as-yet unidentified quarry.

It was an old wolf ceremony, started hundreds of years ago, nobody remembers by whom. But for

grooms and brides long ago, it was a chance to try out the relationship before committing to it for a

lifetime. One night of passion to see if the match were compatible, fertile.

The Alphas hundreds of years ago who invented the ceremony believed that the hunt was magic, that it

spurred mating bonds to connect. They thought that drugs mixed with the ceremony to create

something ethereal that allowed Alphas to smell and pursue those who would best satisfy their needs,

be their body’s match as well as their soul’s.

Children conceived on this night were considered particularly lucky.

Of course, Victor knows it’s all nonsense – just an excuse for men to let loose and let their wolves run

free.

Some of the men of Victor’s party found their pairs already in the forms of the willing handmaidens who

began the ceremony. Rafe had been one of theses. Uninterested in exerting himself more than

necessary, he had waved Victor goodbye while pulling a gold-painted woman into his lap, scattering

her flowers all over the floor.

Victor, however, was unwilling to take the first willing woman who crossed his path. He had rarer tastes

than that.

As Victor prowls through the streets, the whiskey and the hallucinogens combine further in his

bloodstream, blacking out his earlier worries and allowing him to concentrate on the pursuit of his mate,

to give himself over to the chase.

He sniffs the air, eyes closed, seeking any sign of her on the wind. Nothing, yet – but the anticipation

only makes it sweeter.

The men prowl forward in their pack, heading, presumably, for the party where the women wait for

them. No matter how long it takes, they will find them.

Victor allows the pack to surge forward around him, falling to the back so that he can get a better sense

of the night air. He trusts his friends to lead him true, but he wants to give his own instincts a chance to

kick in. He wants to feel the wolf in him rise to the surface, to taste the wind, to smell her on it.

There.

Victor’s head snaps to the left. There. He has scented her.

He pulls away from the group as they surge down the street, having picked up their own mates’ tracks.

His own must be playing a wily trick on him tonight, going her own way. He follows the scent, which is

distant on the breeze. Victor prowls down alley ways and around corners, following – inexorably – the

siren song of the hunt.

Giving himself over to it, Victor has lost his logical brain almost completely. He revels in the feeling, in

the rare chance to indulge in his animal instincts. The worries of his life have been put aside, just for a

moment, and he finds himself wolf incarnate: seeking, hunting, free in the night air, under the light of

the moon.

He hasn’t felt like this in weeks, not since that night with his sons –

Victor snaps back to himself, just a moment – his sons, his two wonderful boys. He smells them too, on

the air. What?

Then, it is gone, and Victor is back to his basest self, his wolf. He stalks through the woods, briefly

recognizing that he has left the city behind. He doesn’t notice the time passing, only his growing

hunger. Less patient with the hunt than he was at the start, Victor snarls, ready to find his prey.

Where is she?

Lights reveal themselves in the distance, and Victor narrows his focus to them. Briefly, some part of his

mind notes the presence of Betas at the edge of his vision.

“Sir,” one calls, “are you all right?”

He ignores it, moving forward.

Beta radio transponders click behind him –

“He’s here –“

“Of course, let him pass –“

“He doesn’t seem…himself…”

“Does it matter? It’s his house, who are we to stop him -”

But then he’s beyond them and he’s alone again, Victor and the night, with her scent those lights ahead

of him. A small house develops out of the haze. He slinks towards it.

Victor scents the air. He knows that she’s here. He strides up the three small steps of the back porch

and grasps the handle of the door, throwing his shoulder into it as he bursts into the room.

Victor turns, instinctually, to the woman standing at the center of her kitchen. Her eyes are wide,

surprised, shocked, at the sudden intrusion.

He crosses the room in three steps and grabs her, pulling her close to his body with an arm around her

waist, his other hand moving up her back, her neck, to tangle in her dark brown curls.

“Mine,” he growls, his eyes focusing on her. “You are mine.”

Her body freezes against his, just for a second, and then her face moves through a thousand emotions

in a flash. Fear, concern, anger and then – finally – her face shifts to match his own.

“Fine,” she snarls, pressing herself close against him. “Take me, then.”

He kisses her then, fiercely, desperate for her. She gasps against his lips, relief on her breath, almost a

sob, and presses one hand to his cheek. Her other hand roves over his body – searching out the

contours of his back, his obliques, pushing down lower towards his hips.

The two stumble a few steps and then she wraps both hands around his lapels, using her weight to pull

him to the ground. Victor goes to his knees, holding her to him, kissing her so fiercely he almost forgets

to breathe. His desire pulses through his veins, consuming every part of his mind as he reaches a hand

below the hem of her skirt, running it all the way up her thigh to cup her ass in his palm.

He moans, shuddering, closing his eyes against his need. Her hands work quickly, slipping down

between them, unbuckling his belt, his buttons, sliding his zipper down, releasing him. She takes him

into her hands, then, pumping him with two swift strokes.

Victor releases a groan at her touch, almost a yell, and shifts his body forward, seeking to pin her to the

floor –

But she shifts her own weight, pushing hard against his right shoulder so that he lands on his ass on

the kitchen floor. “Would you shut up?” She hisses, her own voice low. “The boys are asleep upstairs.”

She silences any reply by closing her mouth over his, climbing on top of him to straddle his hips. Victor

loses himself to the kiss as she slides her tongue into his mouth. He can feel her moan rather than hear

it, an exhalation against his lips, his teeth, telling him that she wants him.

Victor’s hands slip again below her skirt and she raises herself on her knees so that he can pull her

panties down. They stop, though, at her thighs, which straddle wide over his own legs.

“Just rip them,” she murmurs, frustrated, and Victor snarls as he complies. She silences his snarl again

with her mouth over his, taking the sound inside of her, hungry for it.

The ruined panties tossed aside, Victor holds the woman close to him, angling himself so that his c**k

is poised at the apex of her thighs. She looks down into his face, baring her teeth, the pure desire in

her eyes sending him over the edge. With a yell, he pulls down on her hips, slamming into her. She

can’t help the groan that slips from between her teeth, growing louder as he fills her until her head is

thrown back, baring the beautiful column of her throat.

Victor can’t hold back any longer and loses himself completely as she begins to move against him.

“Evelyn,” he gasps, the word turning to a snarl. “You are mine.”