Royal Hunter

author's note:

I am currently looking for beta readers who’d share their thoughts on Royal Hunter. It would be a tremendous help for the heavy editing I’m planning (in preparation for book 2).

I’d love feedback on story elements such as character development, pacing, and plot.

If you’re interested in helping shape the story, please let me know!

He was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes.

Jazz music was playing low on the radio, almost inaudible. I’d been enjoying the muted sound for several minutes, feeling dazed but content, relaxed by the car’s rumbling. My body was heavy, disconnected from my brain, as if I was just awakening from a deep sleep. And then it hit me. Where the hell am I?

My eyes shot open, and I twitched, seized by panic, but hands on my shoulders prevented me from sitting up. Before I could shake them off, I realized I wasn’t just lying in the backseat of a car—I was lying on someone’s lap in the backseat of a car. His upside-down face watched me closely. As my eyes focused, the panic receded, and I stilled. I knew that face. I knew his lips, recognized the way they stretched into a lazy half-grin. Despite the familiar annoyance the smile sparked in me, I had to focus for several seconds to remember his name.

“Cole Smith.”

Talking hurt.

“Your hero,” Cole said. Rolling my eyes hurt. “You’re safe, Olivia.”

Why wouldn’t I be safe? I tried to straighten again, but he kept me down as easily as the first time. I turned my head slowly, mindful of my sore neck. Yup, not dreaming. It was dark out, and I was in a moving car, resting on the lap of a guy I hated, with no idea as to why.

“Almost there,” the driver said, catching my attention. Square face, hair long enough to be half-tied in a low, messy bun. And who are you?

Ignoring Cole’s attempt to hold me down, I finally sat up. The movement ignited new pains, and my head spun. I shot Cole a glare when he rolled his eyes at my persistence. I instinctively reached for the throbbing spot in the back of my head, which was sticky with blood.

“What the—” Words grated on the inside of my throat, triggering a coughing fit that left me breathless and lightheaded.

“Don’t worry. We’re taking you to the hospital.”

I made a gesture with my hand, silently asking what happened, but before Cole could answer, the car went over a speed bump, and something in the front seat was jostled against the door. Wait a minute. Not something. Someone.

I saw the blood first. Then his face.

“Nathan?” My voice cracked painfully.

A heavy, uneasy feeling crashed onto my chest and spread through my body slowly, like warm, thick syrup. It reached the tip of my fingers and made them tingle. I felt boneless. Dizzy again.

Nathan’s head lolled with each bump in the road. Blood stained his neck and shirt collar, so thick I couldn’t tell where it came from. He looked just as sweaty and dirty as I felt. Nathan. Of course, Nathan! We were choosing ice cream flavors just moments ago, and… I glanced outside. Or had we? No, it couldn’t have been moments ago. I ordered the pistachio and peanut butter while the sun blazed way overhead, making the weather unseasonably hot and sticky. What happened after that? I tried to lean forward to touch him, to wake him up, just to do something against his stillness, but Cole restrained me again, overpowering me easily.

“He has to be checked for internal bleeding, but he should be fine.”

The throbbing in my head was turning into a pulsating headache. I closed my eyes for a second and ran a shaky hand over my forehead.

“Why couldn’t you run away when I told you to?” Cole sighed and shook his head.

Why is he so calm?

“Run away from what?”

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, frowning, then exchanged a knowing look with Cole.

“Olivia, what do you remember?”

My name on his lips sounded strange. Good question. I lowered my head, massaging my temples. This was driving me crazy. The last few hours of my life were just there, frustratingly close, yet entirely out of reach. If I could just focus and shut everything else out, I was sure I could grasp them again. I closed my eyes.

I’m with Nathan by the ice cream truck at the town’s Main Place. The crowd around us is almost stifling. A woman in a blue camisole is staring at me, but I can’t focus on her; she’s too far in the back of my mind. I just see Nathan’s face smiling with a confidence I lack entirely while I wonder what the hell I’m doing there with him. We walk, but instead of moving away, we circle right back to the truck, and he’s smiling confidently again because it’s the exact same scene, stuck on repeat.

I shook my head slowly, careful about both my painful throat and my aching head, and Cole frowned. It was a strange look on him; I’d rarely ever seen him without his signature wicked grin or at least a smug expression.

“We’re here,” the driver said.

I hadn’t realized we were touching, but I immediately missed the rough, comforting warmth of his hands when Smith pulled away.

“Ezra will stay with you. I shouldn’t go in,” he said, gesturing to the driver. The man gave me a cheerful salute and exited the car.

“Wait, why? Where—” My throat burned, setting off another coughing fit that left me gasping.

“For once in your life, don’t argue.” His tone held no bite. “Forget I was even here, okay? Don’t mention my name. Ezra will do all the talking.”

Cole turned to leave quickly, but I grabbed his jacket, pulling him back and shaking my head frantically despite the pain and spots dancing in my vision.

He covered my hand with his and gently pried my clawing fingers away. Cole drew closer until I couldn’t possibly miss a look, a word, a single breath. His expression was serious again, green eyes dark but soft, and this time, it didn’t throw me off. I anchored myself to the soothing strength radiating from him.

“We didn’t realize you’d forget what happened. It must be hard, but don’t worry, you are okay.”

That’s not enough. I started to shake my head again, but he didn’t waver.

“As challenging as this must be for you, you have to trust me.”

I stilled.

“Yes, I know, but try anyway,” he added with a tight, self-deprecating smile.

And then he took off.

I hadn’t seen Ezra leave, but he was already returning with hospital staff pushing a gurney toward us. Colors danced behind my eyelids as I stumbled out of the car. My legs gave way, and I grabbed onto the door.

“We need another one,” a scrubbed man yelled. Too loud.

An arm slid around the small of my back, pulling me against a man’s chest. His clothes smelled of gasoline.

“You’re going to be okay,” Ezra whispered in my ear. His voice was light–light blue, I decided, with touches of serious forest green. I’m concussed.

I wanted to believe him, but something had shifted deep within me. I didn’t know why, I didn’t know what, but as I clung to consciousness, I only had one clear thought in my otherwise fuzzy brain: Nothing would ever be the same.