Free Hunter's Fall by Shiloh Walker Page A

unconscious sorry bastard fall to the ground. Reaching for the reinforced silver cuffs at his belt, he gave Sheila a narrow look.
    “Well, that was fun,” Sheila said, her face pink and her eyes gleaming at him despite the bruising around her left eye.
    Normally, Dominic would have stared at her and laughed. She was black-and-blue, and that was her idea of fun? But just then, he heard another whisper. It’s long past time that I do this.
    What . . . ? He staggered, all but swamped by a wave of misery— her misery. His woman . . . his witch. Pressing the heel of his hand to his temple, he braced the other against the brick wall nearby, barely aware of Sheila’s odd, worried gaze. “Hey . . . you okay?”
    No. No, he wasn’t.
    He was hearing her voice again. He could hear her. Clear as day. Clear as a bell. Like she was standing right next to him, murmuring in his ear.
    Past time she do what? he thought, half panicked. He was so focused on her, on her voice, he wasn’t aware of anything, of anybody else.
    I have to let you go. All these years, I waited for death . . . knowing I’d finally be with you, and now, death has denied me. I’m not meant to find you.
    The hell she wasn’t—he wanted to scream. To snarl in sheer frustration. Over a dream . Over a woman who didn’t even exist.
    The blood roared in his ears. Dimly, he heard Sheila shouting his name. Heard the scrabble of claws on concrete. There was a howl. Danger—danger— His body tried to scream the warning at him, but he was lost, caught in the spell of his woman’s voice as she continued to whisper inside his head.
    I don’t know why. But I’m not. So I need to let you go.
    Good-bye, my love . . .
    His heart no longer beat that much, but it still functioned and as her voice echoed in his mind, Dominic felt a tearing pain, unlike anything he’d ever known.
    Unlike anything he had ever imagined. It was worse than the pain he’d gone through when he Changed. It was worse than the sickening, terrifying nightmares that still haunted him—the nights he’d spent helpless as a feral Master toyed with him.
    It was the worst pain he’d ever felt in his life and he went to his knees, unaware of Sheila, unaware of anything but her .
    It was the pain of a heart shattering into a thousand pieces.
    And then there was a very real pain—the pain of his own blade, cutting deep, deep into him. The pain of it was enough of a shock to force him out of whatever spell held him captive, and he stumbled backward and saw Sheila struggling with the wolf he’d neglected to restrain. Blood splattered across her face and her eyes glowed. As his blood gushed out of him, too much, too fast, he heard another whisper.
    Good-bye, my love . . .
     
     
    “ S o what did her voice sound like?”
    It was a full twenty-four hours later, and Dominic was still trying to get past the ache in his heart. It was worse than the pain from the slowly healing wound in his gut, worse than anything . Good-bye, my love . . .
    He’d collapsed into a healing sleep not long after the other Hunters had arrived on the scene, but even that had provided no respite from the haunting echo of her voice. Hell, even now, facing a very disgruntled Master, all he could think about was her .
    “Dom?”
    Dominic surged out of the chair with such speed it toppled back behind him, falling to the floor with a clatter. Shooting a dark look at Rafe, he ground out, “I don’t know—a woman’s voice. Sounded English. I’ve never heard it in my life.”
    At least not awake , he thought bitterly. Her voice was eerily, haunting familiar, but he knew, as sure as he knew his own name, he’d never spoken with this woman, never heard her whisper his name in the night, never held her in his arms while they slept.
    “Can you be more specific? Is she young? Old?” Rafe asked, his black brow rising. There was a certain amount of skepticism on his face.
    Dominic couldn’t blame him. Fuck, he’d all but ended up