The Last Hunter: Collected Edition (Antarktos Saga #1-5)

Em nods. If there is anything a hunter understands, it’s instinct.

“I just saw her hair, and—” That was it. Kainda is beautiful, and has other qualities that attract me to her—confidence and strength, but what makes her irresistible is that black streak in her hair. While there are many other hunters who have shrugged off the Nephilim, Kainda’s bonds were tighter than most. “I had Aimee,” I say. “You had Tobias. And he had Luca. Our connections helped us escape. We didn’t have to do it alone. Kainda was born here. She was raised by Ninnis. Can you imagine?”

I can see by the look in Em’s eyes that she can’t.

“She not only defied her master, Thor, one of the most powerful Nephilim warriors, but she also defied Ninnis, the most skilled hunter in the underworld. She knew nothing but the life of a hunter, and never once experienced what it meant to be loved. And yet, here she is, freed from captivity because of her own courage.”

I look at Em. She nods.

“She deserves love.”

“You’re right,” Em says. “Just try not to make her upset.”

I’m about to offer some kind of witty reply, but instead say, “What I can’t figure out is, why me? I mean, aside from the obvious.” I give my muscles a flex and raise my eyebrows a few times.

Em sticks out her tongue like she’s throwing up and we share a laugh. Then she gets serious. “I think her reasons are probably similar to yours.” She leans forward, takes my hair and pulls it around to where I can see it. “You’re free. Totally free. No hunter has ever done that before. I don’t think anyone has even considered the possibility. I know I hadn’t.”

“The burden was lifted in Tartarus,” I say. “I didn’t do it by myself.”

“Doesn’t really matter how it happened,” she says. “Only that it did.”

I look at the ground, wondering if that’s all there is to it. Is Kainda attracted to my freedom or to me?

Em seems to sense my thoughts and adds, “Plus she probably likes your, you know—” She flexes, and her muscles, while a little smaller than mine, are quite impressive. She laughs, but then grows serious. “Also, she was…offered to you. As a wife. By her father. Hunters take that seriously. It’s kind of an unsaid thing, but marriage is the only real relationship hunters are allowed. The coupling is supposed to be about producing stronger children.”

“Selective breeding,” I say. When she looks at me oddly, I know she doesn’t understand. “It’s what the outside world calls it. They do it with livestock. To create stronger animals.”

“Exactly. They want stronger hunters. But some pairs bond—” she pauses, searching for the word. “Emotionally. Though it is hidden, and no one would ever admit it. But it’s there. Kainda was offered to you by her father. You have been bonded.”

The idea that I’m part of some ancient hunter arranged-marriage situation makes me a little sick to my stomach. But it still doesn’t make sense. “Kainda doesn’t seem like the kind of person to let customs dictate what she does.”

“She is a hunter in every way, Sol. She would take the arrangement seriously.”

I frown, a little disappointed by the idea that Kainda’s interest is merely the product of custom.

Em lets out a gentle laugh. “But that doesn’t explain her affection. It is most certainly not part of the arrangement.”

I’m about to ask more when Kainda skids to a stop above us. My face flushes as I think we’ve been caught talking about her, but Kainda quickly says, “I found something. I think we’re close.”

She heads off, back up the rise. We chase after and don’t stop until we near the crest of the hill. The smells hit me first. Blood—human and Nephilim. Modern weapons. Old Spice.

“They were here,” I say.

“Not long ago,” Kainda says. “The body is not yet rotting.”

Body!?

I rush to Kainda as she squats next to a body. The man’s limbs are mangled and it looks like he might have been folded at the waist—in the wrong direction. He’s got a shaved head and wears military fatigues. The patch on his arm identifies him as a British soldier. His weapon, a modern looking rifle, lies a few feet away, bent and broken. A large knife is sheathed on his belt.

“Do you know him?” Kainda asks.

“No,” I say. “But he must have been with them.”

Em surprises me by taking the man’s knife. She sees my confused look and says, “I’ll avenge him with it.” She attaches the knife to her belt, adding it to her collection. She keeps the knives around her waist and attached to two criss-crossing bands that form an X over her chest. The man’s knife is larger than all the rest, but it fits her ensemble nicely.

“There are tracks,” Kainda says.