Hunter: Paranormal Academy Romance, page 1
Hunter
Red Rum Academy ~ Book One
Renee Snow
Copyright © 2021 by Renee Snow
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design ~ https://www.art4artists.com.au
Created with Vellum
From Renee Snow
I can’t begin to tell you what it means to me knowing you’re taking time out to read Hunter, book one of the Red Rum Academy series.
Nothing makes me happier than writing a novel for you to enjoy to the very end.
If it’s not too much trouble, and you enjoy Hunter, I would love for you to head over to Amazon to leave a review.
Thanks again, and happy reading.
With love,
Renee Snow xx
Also by Renee Snow
Paranormal Romance
The Dreamweaver Series
Dark Angel
Fallen Angel
Red Rum Academy
Hunter
Hells Gate Series
Dark Moon
Rising Moon
Contemporary Romance
Pathways
Just Swipe Right
Fake it ’til you make it
Mystic Cove
Highfliers
Opposites Attract
Rustic Charm
For Trent
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
From Renee Snow
Meet Renee Snow
Also by Renee Snow
Prologue
They were gaining ground, and I was running out of road. The end of the alleyway meant one of two things, quickly learn to scale a relatively smooth two storey wall, or turn and face five or six beefy guys with goodness knows what on their mind.
Full sprint, I crouched and sprung as I neared the end. No doubt my effort looked more pathetic than it felt as I hit hard. Hands failing to grasp hold of something—anything—to use as a leaver to drag myself up and out of reach.
A heap on the ground, hands grazed and hurting, was worse than the alternative, upright and ready to fight.
“Get her.” They descended as a pack and didn’t hold back despite knowing I was a girl—old fashioned chivalry probably never delivered to the likes of such monsters.
Kick after kick, each blow was hard, if not harder than the last, until I was barely conscious.
Bright light emanated from beyond the tight circle they formed around me. I don’t know where it came from, or what it belonged to, but it was enough to make them pause mid kick—as sluggish as I was, will took over long enough for me to scramble between legs and drag myself into the shadows cast by a dumpster.
Arms wrapped around bent up knees, propped against the wall, I balled up to limit access should they seek me out for round two.
1
They say we’re here because we’re special—gifted. I don’t believe them. We’re here because we’re the outcasts of society—the bastards.
The moment I stepped onto college grounds I was handed a file, packed full of information for later reading, ushered into a private room and told to sit on the single chair to await further instruction. A sharp shot to the back of the neck was all I received before they moved me into an open-air amphitheater to wait for further instruction.
I glanced around at the sea of diversity. Back home I’d been a rarity, a freak, here I was more the norm than some and no doubt a hell of a lot tamer than the rest.
Most were fresh faced and young, as if they’d stepped up from high school to attend a college for the damned, which was close to being my story. However, a few mature faces showed age wasn’t a prerequisite.
The quarry in which we sat was deep below the surface, jagged rock cliff faces, a tough climb to the buildings above if necessary, but not impossible. Clearly we’d make our way up via the staircases surrounding the void to attend class and seek refuge.
The girl seated in front of me had her long black hair pulled into a ponytail, offering clear vision of the reddened spot where she too had been marked in the back of the neck.
I reached up and ran my finger over the area mine had connected, a little more to the left than hers seemed to be. Probably because I tied my ponytail off centre when security told me to get it off my neck. Too naïve to think there was more to their demand than just school policy, I’d hastily followed instruction.
There was something off about their methods. The uneasiness in the pit of my gut from the moment I walked up to the Academy’s front door turned to nausea. What the hell had I gotten myself into?
A school of justice, they’d said. An opportunity to right the wrong.
Wrong, according to who?
With seats mostly filled, and an elegant-looking woman dressed in a sleek black skirt suit walking to the centre of the stage, I guessed I was going to find out.
“Welcome to Red Rum Academy.” Her voice carried loud enough to hear, even though I was sitting close to the back of the crowd, and she wasn’t using a microphone. “My name is Ripley, and I am your principle. For the newcomers, you may wonder what you did wrong to land yourself here. I want to make it clear from this moment that it’s not what you did wrong—quite the opposite, actually.” All my life blame had been pointed in my direction because I’m different, and yet now I’m quite the opposite?
“Look around. In your own way, you are some of the most lethal beings on earth—and after some training we plan to put your talents to good use.” How my ability to repel people, or else offend them without so much as glancing in their direction, made me lethal, I do not know. Clearly I was in the wrong group.
“So basically you’re saying we’re your mules?” A voice from the back interrupted. “What if we don’t want to fight your cause?” I turned my head to catch a glimpse of who was speaking for those nodding their head in agreement.
It wasn’t hard to pick him, standing amongst the seated. He was strikingly good-looking, but it was his wingman that caught my attention. Our eyes locked, at least I think he was looking at me, and he smiled—well, he flashed his teeth. Smile or snarl, it was difficult to determine given the shadows cast over his face. Whatever it was, we shared a moment.
“Freedom of choice, to a certain degree, is still yours.” Ripley pulled my attention back to the front. “—but we’ll speak more about that in your classes.” Dismissive without being rude, she turned her back in his direction and addressed those sat on the other side of the amphitheater.
“Is that what the shot in the back of the neck was for—brave move shooting us in the back without warning, by the way.” The mouth behind me was at it again. No prize for guessing he was admitted here against his will.
Ripley spun on her heels to face him again. “That tracking device is not only to keep tabs on your whereabouts, but to ensure you’re safe at all times—you can thank me for it later.” If looks could kill.
“Your room or mine,” he muttered loud enough for those in proximity to hear. Whether Ripley overheard his smartass comment, she didn’t react, instead turned her back again.
What the hell kind of justice school was this? Tracking devices, talented but lethal students, and a principle out for blood before twenty-four hours was up.
“You’ll be housed in sections based on talent, however your classes will be mixed—even though some lessons will present as a challenge for those not gifted to a particular area, it’s beneficial to learn what others can do.”
Great. It looked as though I was in for a tough year. All this talk of gifted and talented had me wanting to make a run for the nearest exit. I didn’t possess any skills out of the ordinary—unless you counted my unique ability to piss people off for sharing air.
“Classes start in the morning, eight on the dot, so don’t be late—if you know what’s good for you.” The warning in her tone bordered on a threat. “The files we issued you upon arrival contain all the information you’ll need to survive the night—allocated room details can be found on the top left-hand corner of your class timetable. When I dismiss you, head up the staircase flagged with the colour matching the box next to your floor and room number.” She paused as the rustle of pages being turned in files interrupted her flow.
I glanced around before opening mine to see large sheets of brightly coloured fabric unravel from the top of the quarry and float in the breeze that didn’t make it down to where they sat.
Overhead, flapping red caught my attention. What staircase students assigned to that dorm were meant to use was a mystery. Obviously the spokesman at the back of the room wasn’t allocated red either, o
Flipping open the cover of my file, my eyes flicked to the top and spied the turquoise square in the corner, I then scanned the perimeter to work out the direction I needed to head.
Of course it was on the opposite side to where I sat—if I was so gifted I would grow wings and fly. With the scramble of people I knew would come the moment Ripley told us to move, I sat back in my chair to wait. No point pissing people off by getting in their way. It wasn’t like I was keen to see who I was rooming with, anyway. Private rooms didn’t seem something they offered, so the classes with the talented weapons of mass distraction may not be the only challenging aspect I was yet to face.
“You will find mealtimes listed on page four, but for those eager to satisfy the hunger pains as soon as possible, standard dinners will be served in the cafeteria from six o’clock—nonstandard, please refer to the instructions in your individual file.” She paused as if waiting for someone to jump in and ask a question.
I glanced around to see if anyone still had their file opened to their room allocation page, hoping to glimpse the likes of those residing around me. From what I knew of other colleges, same sex sharing was a given. However, less than two hours here and it was obvious that common practise elsewhere had no bearing on what happened at Red Rum Academy. With the focus now on food, a place to sleep seemed a minor detail.
I closed my file and stared at the muddle of a logo stamped into the front. What it represented I didn’t know, but the longer I gazed at the letters scrawled across the centre of the image, the clearer the words became. Red Rum. Red rum. red ruM. redruM.
Whether the gasp I released was audible or if the shock rung so loud it masked the sound before it escaped me. Distraction pulled me away from the rest of Ripley’s instruction, movement around me the only indication we’d been dismissed. As I predicted, the scurry for the staircases began.
Had anyone else figured out the title the academy hid behind. The promise of an education in justice whist masking the truth of what they were really about. It wasn’t any wonder they had to tame us with a tracking device—to keep tabs on what we were up to when their intentions were nothing short of criminal.
How the hell was I supposed to get out of this place? Their stamp imbedded under my skin certainly made escape an impossibility—for the moment.
I could feel the blood drain from my face, and the surrounding movement brought on another bout of nausea. So much for being a super being. Weakness seemed to ooze from my every pore.
The crowd was thinning. I had to move, or drawing attention to myself may very well be the last thing I ever did. Surely there were others trapped between these walls who were as clueless as I. All I could hope was that the weapons of mass destruction kept their abilities under wraps for the first night at least. The last thing I wanted to experience was everyone realising the academy was a gimmick, a coverup for recruiting suckers to do their dirty work.
Eyes wide open had always been my motto. I looked for what others ignored, so surprise rarely took me. And, on the few times it did, I ended up fighting for my life. The best part about seeing things before the masses, especially in this case, meant keeping a low profile wouldn’t be too difficult. Uncovering the school’s creed before they worked their magic and manipulated us in class meant I had one up on them before I started.
As if someone controlled me by remote, I wove my way through the crowd to the base of the staircase beneath the turquoise flag.
“Fae or witch?” Fairy-like and petite, she looked to be fresh out of high school.
“I’m sorry, what?” As much as I tried not to show it, I was positive my expression clearly displayed what I was really thinking—she’s even weirder than me.
“I just assumed—oh, never mind. I’m Jinx.” The smile she offered was too friendly to ignore, so I smiled back.
“Ok-ay.” I giggled, although nothing of what she said was funny. “Tarot.”
“As in the card deck, Tarot?”
I shrugged. “I guess you could say that.” Sure, it wasn’t an everyday type of name, but it wasn’t so strange as some I’d heard.
“Well, I think it’s cool—where are you at?” She nodded toward the file in my hand.
“Level three, room eleven.” At least it was an easy combination to remember.
“Really? What are the chances.” Jinx leaned over as if waiting for proof, but instead flipped the front of her file up to show the front page of her own. “Nice to meet you, roomy.”
2
“Watch yourself.” The guy with the mouth from during Ripley’s address stepped in their path, cutting Jinx off before she took the first step.
“Practice what you preach,” she muttered as she lingered long enough for him and his clones to advance ahead of them.
“Too right.” For too long I’d been walked over—pushed around as if I were lesser. New school, new deal. Like hell was I standing back to let it start on my first day here. “I suggest you watch yourself.” The best part about being so tiny, as was Jinx, was that we could weave around the brute and his gang with ease. I attempted a death stare as we passed.
Surprise, followed by something beyond anger, crossed his expression as he registered what was happening.
“Bitch,” he muttered.
Jinx tugged my hand as if spurring me on to keep moving forward—not a chance.
“Oh, you have seen nothing yet.” Adrenaline pumped, and I knew from experience my eyes would’ve drained of colour from dark chocolate brown to pale liquid amber as they did whenever I was pissed off—and I was on the verge of exploding.
Who the hell did he think he was pushing everyone around as if he was more important than the rest.
Another tug from Jinx had me starting to turn away, but then I saw him again. A smirk teased the corners of his mouth. Clearly he liked to see his friend put in his place as much as I enjoyed doing it. A quick wink from me and his tease of a smile spread to a grin. One dimple dented his left cheek—nice.
A giggle escaped me as I grabbed Jinx’s hand and darted up the flight of stairs. At the top I took a left, but Jinx steered me right.
“Holy shit—I can’t believe you did that,” she gasped, either still in shock or fighting to catch her breath after running up more than a hundred stairs without a pause.
I hoped we didn’t look like we were running away. That certainly wasn’t the impression I was going for—confident was my edge. Acting the coward would rule me less than a victim as I was on the outside—never again would I be a victim, at least not without putting up one hell of a fight.
“Do you know who that is?” Jinx gasped.
“Hey, I just got here. I have no idea who I am, let alone anyone else.” I don’t know what had come over me, but I liked it. No one knew me here, so it was time to make a statement and claim it.
“Well, one thing you should know is that Blade is the last person you want to be on the wrong side of.”
“Has he been here long?”
“Arrived here today.”
“Oh, so how do you know him?” I stole a glance out of the corner of my eye to gauge Jinx’s response.
“Reputation—there’s a reason he leads the pack.” She sucked in a deep breath and released it in a huff before continuing. “Let’s just say, he’s not someone you want to mess with.”
“Want to or not, the guy’s clearly a jerk and I’m sick of being treated like shit.” I didn’t bother to hide the frown I could feel setting in. “He may be the leader of the pack, but I’m not a part of it—he’s not my king. And even if he was, with an attitude like that, I’d revolt.”
