All Chapters of Hunting for Midnight: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

“I removed it from your bag and secured it in a safe location.”Closing my eyes and inhaling deeply, I mentally counted down from ten before responding. “Walker—, I appreciate everything you've done for me. Really I do. Even if some of the ways you aided me today were unconventional and disturbing at times. With that said, taking and hiding my gun from me is way out of line. Please—, give it back. Now.”“No.” Walker responds immediately, stone faced.Jumping to my feet at the edge of the bed, I can't contain my fury and shout at this absurd, domineering man! “Why the fuck not? I don't see my knives either! That's my property!”Crossing his arms over his chest again, Walker's face is impassive and his voice clipped. “I'll return them when you're able to leave. Until then, they'll remain secured in the location I've placed them in.”“Ugh!” I growl, stomping my foot and throwing my hands in the air. “I have no way of defending myself now! You've left me helpless.”Walker scoffs. “What in

What am I doing? What is she doing? I’ve never had relations with another woman besides my Annabelle. She was my one and only. My Anam Chara, as spoken in the old language.Leslie, who bears a striking resemblance to Annabelle yet is nothing like her, is trying to seduce me, and by God, it’s working. She’s absolutely gorgeous, and it’s been so long since I’ve felt the softness and warmth of a woman. I know she wants to leave as soon as possible, which is understandable. Perhaps, however, I can allow myself to give in just this once…I want to feel something—anything other than anger, hate, and despair. A dark part of me is curious about how far I could push her and what she might be willing to do. I don't believe her initial intention was to exchange her body for her gun; it seems more like she was trying to manipulate me. However, it’s clear that the wine has loosened both her mind and her inhibitions.The words that just came out of her luscious mouth practically drove me to yank he

After a relaxing, passive cuddle session full of kissing, lazy caressing, discovering each other's bodies and more fooling around, Walker was beyond reluctant to climb out of bed and get dressed. I felt the same about him leaving the bed as well. Tugging his trousers back on, and facing me, he glimpses at me and smiles. The beauty of that devastating smile is yin and yang compared to his usual, brooding demeanor. "Feel free to stay here and rest for as long as you like, or you can explore the manor if you prefer. Just please avoid the East wing; it's closed off and locked due to disuse and renovations. I have a few tasks I need to complete and package in the shop below, or they won't be finished on time."Standing next to me at the side of the bed, he smirks and reaches behind his back, his eyes shining with mischief. He pulls out something from his waistband: my pistol, which is usually secured in the leather holster I keep tucked inside my pants or purse.Laying in bed on my side, e

I knew it was still raining earlier today and at one point was willing to take my chances with navigating the weather and nightfall, as opposed to spending another second in this creepy hellhole. Witnessing the weather happening before me right now doesn't have a name as far as I know. It can't be described as rain, pouring, torrential downpours, or even relating this to a monsoon is being too nice. Standing inside the doorway, gaping with my arms slack at my sides, the tiny scraps of hope I desperately clutched onto have washed away in the white squall of water pounding the flooded earth from the sky. I've lived in Maine my entire life and have never witnessed precipitation that is so extreme and violent. The unforgiving, frigid nor'easter blizzards that blow in off the Atlantic during winter pales in comparison to this drowning monstrosity. Sinking to my knees, I slid the backpack off my shoulders, digging through it for an extra hoodie and the waterproof, flannel-lined hooded ponc

A scuffling sound from behind me drags me out of my miserable, drunken reminiscing. I didn’t need to turn around to see if anyone was behind me, I already knew who was there. The unique, aromatic combination of leather and smoke, with a sharp tinge of copper, was always a dead giveaway.“Ye didn’t tell me we had an unexpected visitor.” I didn’t miss or acknowledge the note of irritation in his steely, rhythmic voice. Since he was a young child, he had picked up on our father's lilting Scottish accent more than I did. Along with the Scottish Gaelic my father frequently spoke in, the wicked bastard knowing full well my mother struggled to understand it. She spoke fluent Irish Gaelic, and lovingly taught both of us, resulting in my brother and I being able to speak and read both of the ancient languages.“She’s leaving soon anyway. Got lost in the woods and needed some caring for is all.” I stated, trying to sound bored and not slur my words worse than I already was. Reac