C4 4

The truth was not hidden from him. Within seconds, he realized she was the one responsible for the note. The way she looked was not the main factor. She could have been just another high-end prostitute on the hunt for a quick fix, given the red bodysuit that accentuated her smooth curves and luscious breasts. He looked from her flat stomach to her very shapely hips to her long legs and back up again, thinking, "Yes, definitely expensive." Too expensive for a bar like Midnight Pub, even if she was slumming. The way she looked wasn't the only thing that let him in on who she was. Just watching her move gave him that impression. Her penmanship in the note was as elegant and graceful as she was. She practically floated down the stairs and into the pub, her hips swaying in an alluring manner. She halted before taking the final stride, her back straight and an obviously expensive bag slung over her shoulder. She looked around the room for someone to talk to, unfazed by the lustful looks she was receiving. In an attempt to find him, he knew it.

He stared at her face intently. Her skin was as brilliant as a diamond, making a striking contrast with the waves of long blonde hair that framed her features and flowed down her back to a point above the swell of her butts. Shiny locks that caught the eye amidst the whirl of red and white lights. He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets, surprised at the impulse to reach out and run his fingers along the ebony depths. The strands of silk were already making contact with his skin, all the way from his neck to his chest and below. He ignored the idea and went about his business. Despite her beauty, the woman was there for professional reasons only, and he had to keep his focus where it belonged. He felt as if someone had gently brushed velvet against his penile erection. His attention was captured by her long, toned thighs. He felt her arms encircle his waist and pull him closer to her, holding him close for a long, comforting time. He mentally shook himself and redirected his thoughts away from that path. He heard his conscience nagging at him to exert some self-control, and he grudgingly complied.

She descended the stairs to the main floor as Hunter watched. Despite being lost in the sea of people, she stood at least five feet seven inches tall. He could make out the shape of her face, including the slant of her cheekbones and the arch of her brown brows that would have framed her eyes if he could see past those pesky glasses. His desire to catch a glimpse of her had flared up suddenly. He stiffened and reminded himself that she was a potential informant or even a suspect. She had written the note, without a doubt. He relaxed against the wall, waiting for her to come to him.

Autumn zeroed in, her eyes adjusting to the dim lighting, taking in her surroundings. She looked around the dim pub, the packed dance floor, and the throngs of patrons. Then she abruptly stopped.

Hunter sat bolt upright, arms crossed, staring at her, knowing full well who and what she was. Impossible! It was impossible for him to know. In fact, she had avoided him. His eyes still held recognition and eager anticipation. Even though they were physically separated by a dance floor full of sweaty bodies and pungent smoke, she could still feel the tension, sense his body heat, and smell his arousal. His eyes followed her across the room and beckoned her closer, creating an irresistible pull. Taking the initiative, she came forward.

Before she felt wet lips brush her temple, she heard a voice murmur, "Hi, Pretty. What can I do for you?"

In the middle of her stride, Autumn halted and turned to look at the man who appeared to be surrounding her. He had crept up behind her and was now stroking her upper arms while whispering in her ear. She winced at the feel of his lips on her ears. The heat of his breath rushed at her face like a wave of stifling air and smothered her.

"Let's have a good time, Pretty! I've got the best stuff in town, and if you pay me any attention at all, I'll take you to heaven."

"No, thanks," she replied icily. Looking to deflect his attention by shrugging her shoulders. The clinch of his fingers tightened.

"You can't afford to ignore me, Pretty, because I have something so good that it will take you to the moon. Hear me out, slut," he said, while tightening his grip even further. "Who the hell are you to ignore me? No slut ever rejects me."

The familiar tingle in her throat returned. The man looked startled, as if he'd seen a ghost, as she suddenly turned around. At his frightened expression, she almost laughed. It was close, but she had to deal with more important things right now. He got over his surprise, this time, by frowning and becoming even more determined, and grabbing her again. Autumn prevented him from touching her by grabbing his wrist. The slightest effort on her part was enough to make his face go completely white with shock and fear.

"Again, I'm not interested," come across as cold and uninterested. She pushed her eyewear down a notch and looked directly at him. He went completely white as he was engulfed by the blaze she knew burned in his eyes. The look in his bloodshot eyes gave Autumn chills, and she glazed even harder and deeper. As he leaned over her, his fist slammed into her face, eliciting a shriek from her. A stream of blood shot out of her mouth. He continued to poke fun at her and smack her repeatedly. As her hold tightened, he saw the terror return to his eyes as he worried that she would break his wrist. She had ample opportunity to refrain. No matter how insane he was or how many women he had abused, her stomach was churning and she had to let go and push him away before she did something she would regret.

She pushed her glasses back into place as he staggered backward and scurried the remaining few feet to the stairwell. She closed her eyes and sent a peaceful thought to the beast. After a moment of calm reflection, she opened them once more and started walking toward Hunter Morrison. That way, she wouldn't have to travel too far. She turned and saw him standing directly in front of her, his chiseled chest a mere fraction of an inch away from her. She looked up into his pitch-black eyes and wondered if she was the one who was cursed.

"Any problem?" he asked, glancing past her to the man who was obstructing his ascent.

"Nothing," she said. She reached for her throat subconsciously as a flash of insecurity hit her.

"I know what you are," his voice was so low it made her skin crawl. His eyes conveyed a hushed message. Furthermore, if she hadn't been so desperate, she might have turned and run. If she had to face the devil before being saved, then what was the point?

It was Hunter who was about to meet Satan head-on. If only he had known.