Review of "The Alpha's Hunter" by Lily Redd

​Score: 85/100 (8.5 out of 10)

Do you have this unexplainable urge to get railed by a hot, possessive, controlling werewolf multiple times a day?
Do you like fiction about mythical shapeshifting creatures going at it daily with humans like rabbits on a trampoline?
Are you into edgy, erotic paranormal romances that bridge the gaps between species?
How about ones that turn the bed into a crater filled with about three weeks of fur, fluff, feathers, and liquids that would take a scanner to identify?

If that sounds like you, you might enjoy this book more than we did!

The Alpha's Hunter is a steamy and erotic paranormal romance novel by Lily Redd.
It is sexually charged, emotionally volatile, explicit, and unapologetic.

We'd even say it's rather relentless.

Well, what do we mean by that?

Well, it's one of those novels in which the characters are perpetually horny and going at it again and again and again and again and again.

Yes, there's some mystery about dead people, conflict between humans and werewolves potentially leading to a werewolf uprising, and a politics involving agreements that are being challenged involving the parties. But... that almost seems like window dressing—garnishments to the main course: the sex.

It's to the point where you forget that this book even has a plot or a story (it does). In fact, we even started to forget that these characters had roles (like alpha wolf or hunter) or even names. Their identities and the plot just blurred far into the background of our consciousness because we were constantly reminded that one was hard and one was wet no matter what else was going on.

We say it time and time again—with A Bright Summer by Kate Smoak and Her Wild Body by Noa Raveh—sex should complement your story and characters not derail or distract from them. There should be something more than just two (or more) people going at it over and over and over again.

Yes, we know: it shows that there's chemistry and a connection between two (or more) characters, demonstrating their trust and magnetic attraction to one another; but it shouldn't take a half-dozen or more back-to-back erotic scenes to carry that message across. That just seems so redundant and frivilous.

We've said it before and we'll say it again: too much salt or too much sugar makes good food taste overly salty or sweet—rendering it inedible. Just enough salt or just enough sugar enhances the food and makes it taste better.

There's a goldilocks zone.

This applies to content in books like sex, profanity, vulgarity, and extreme violence in books as well. This book is loaded with sex, profanity, and vulgarity from beginning to end. It seems like the very first time we meet all the characters, they're cussing up a storm at one another. And they're constantly cussing at each other or referring to their genitalia, often in the most vulgar and untactful way possible.

Like, we're not prudes, ok? We're adults. We get it. Sex is fun.

We also get that it's a great catharsis to cuss sometimes. When you're really angry or pissed off, it feels good. When you've just been in a car accident or you're in an active war-zone, it comes naturally.

But the problem becomes when it's distracting or seems to be occurring just cause the author wants it to.

There needs to be a reason.
It needs to seem earned.
It needs to seem warranted.

Allow us to provide some good examples for when profanity/vulgarity and explicit sex scenes are used effectively in a work of fiction.

Ellie in The Last of Us cusses up a storm and her speech is littered with profanity, vulgarity, and expletives. Well, there's a reason for this. Ellie lives in a fallen world full of death and destruction. It's a world in which you can't trust anyone. Monsters are eating people and tearing people apart. Humans are shooting, stabbing, and eating people and tearing each other apart. Furthermore, she had no positive role model or parental figure (that we know of) until she met Joel. So, she was surrounded by negative influences and in a terrible, hellish environment. Her foul speech makes perfect sense. It's fallen and broken just like the world she lives in.

Furthermore The Last of Us is a story that's grounded in gritty realism. You're supposed to take it seriously. You're supposed to believe that these things could really happen in real life.

But what about a romance novel with perpetually-horny werewolves? Does that earn or warrant the constant bombardment of this language?

You could argue that the characters are in quite a few severe scenarios, encountering death and violence. However, like we alluded to before, it's really hard to buy into that angle when it gets relegated to the background. The characters are constantly fixated on banging each other. There are times when they're supposed to be thinking about preventing the werewolf uprising, but they're thinking about banging again.

Again: salt and sugar.
Just enough is just enough.
Too much and the food is ruined.

You're not even tasting the steak or eggs anymore, you're just tasting the salt.
You're not even tasting the oatmeal or yogurt anymore, you're just tasting the sugar.
It drowns out the taste of the food.

Similarly, when you have this much bedroom activity, all you see and think about is the bedroom activity. When people are fighting and dying, you're thinking: hmm... I wonder when they're going to go back to the bedroom again. When people are arguing about the politics and the broken agreements between humans and werewolves, all you can think about is: hmm... I wonder if there's going to be another bedroom scene right after this.

It's like perfume or cologne.
Three sprits on the wrists and neck are great.
Spraying it all over yourself makes it noxious and no one wants to be around the person who douses themselves in fragrance.

It loses its power. It loses its uniqueness. It loses what makes it special.

The same with the language. If everyone is just cussing up a storm and talking about/fixating on their genitalia left and right, it loses its power, its uniqueness, and what makes it special.

Think about it: when you go on vacation once a year, it's exceptionally special.
If you go on vacation every week or every month, it isn't nearly as special.

You just become numb to it and bored of it. It's another day in the office.

Here's a good example of how to use explicit sex in a story: Deadpool.

We all know about the pegging scene, but that was part of a long montage—the "balls in holes" montage—in which it was made abundantly clear that this couple—like a healthy, normal couple—has sex regularly and frequently.

They love each other, are attracted to each other, have great chemistry, and trust each other enough to engage in activities like this.

Well, that's not the end of it. The explicit sex scenes in Deadpool serve another purpose beyond establishing the bond between the characters. Remember when Deadpool says that he wants to get his good looks back? Specifically, he says he wants to find Ajax (the scientist who disfigured him) to get his "sexy" back?

Well, that connects the dots all the way back to those explicit sex scenes we saw before. Being sexually active with his partner made Wade/Deadpool feel sexy—attractive. Those things meant something deeply to him. He valued his looks. He valued that his partner saw him as handsome/sexy/attractive/beautiful. This is a very relatable, human thing. We can empathize with it. It seems realistic and plausible.

What about the explicit and repetitive sex scenes in this novel, specifically between Marcus Blackwood (an Alpha werewolf) and Joanna Sullivan (a human hunter)? Well, you could make the argument that they establish that Marcus and Joanna have a powerful bond and attraction to one another that crosses traditional boundaries. You could even consider their relationship taboo, sorta in a Romeo-and-Juliet-sorta-way.

That's definitely a great premise, and that's true to an extent, but... it shouldn't have taken 10-15 sexual encounters or detailed fantasies to establish that. Look at it this way: if it takes 10-15 shots to unalive something, that just means the first 1-9 shots didn't work or didn't do a good enough job.

Every single chapter has something erotic going on or some erotic fantasy playing in a character's head.

Like, don't you guys realize people are dying and being murdered? Don't you guys realize there's this big huge conflict with the werewolves and humans that could lead to an even bigger crisis?

Look, if they don't care enough to take a break from the sex to deal with it, then why should we (the readers)?

They're distracted, so we're distracted.
They're derailed, so our consumption of the plot is derailed.

And we're not sure if these sex scenes really ingratiated us to Marcus or Joanna. In fact, they may have achieved the opposite. Marcus is particularly mean and aggressive. Well, he is an alpha werewolf, but we're talking as a humanoid partner—do you really want someone this forceful, possessive, and pushy in your life? Like, call the cops. Get a restraining order.

Even in romance, dominance needs to be earned—not assumed. And Joanna, while sharp and capable in theory, spends a surprising amount of time getting pinned, stared down, and sexualized when she should be solving a case or asserting control over her arc.

Marcus often uses his physical size to intimidate Joanna. He corners her, pins her, and holds her in place without her consent—sometimes in the middle of emotionally charged arguments. These acts are described with dominance-focused language: “Marcus crowded her space, leaning close with a low growl,” or “He pressed her back against the wall, staring down at her with a possessive glare.” This behavior comes across as more territorial than tender.

Marcus becomes furious when he learns about Joanna’s past sexual relationship with Ethan, his beta. Rather than process this emotionally, he reacts with rage and suspicion, asserting control and questioning her loyalties.

He often thinks or says things like he won't allow or can't allow her to feel or do something (or others to feel or do something involving her). Or he becomes furious when others (like Ethan King) show her attention. Here are some examples of his possessiveness and controlling behavior (language censored):

"I couldn’t tell her age just by looking at her —her black skin was supple and untouched by time --
but I admired her prowess, even as my wolf raged at the thought of following behind a human. Before
tonight, the only time I’d allow that was if I was taking her from behind, letting her moans and the arch of her
back dictate how much of my cock she could handle. How deep she needed me to thrust inside of her."

"Marcus stormed toward me, his gaze burning into mine with an intensity that made my knees weak. 'You were f****g him,' he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sent a shiver down my spine."

"Marcus’s snarl was a chilling sound that echoed through the room. 'She’s mine.' His voice resonated with a possessiveness that made my heart race."

"Marcus whirled around, amber eyes ablaze. 'You think this is a f*****g game, Joanna?' he growled. 'You think you can just waltz into our world, fuck with my pack, and not face the consequences?'"

"I turned to Joanna, my expression stern. 'Inside. Now.' ... 'What the f**k were you thinking, Joanna?' I asked, my voice low and dangerous."

"When she sighed, I knew she understood. Ethan was my responsibility. And if she wanted to talk to him, it would be on my terms."

Geez... dude? We get that you're, like, a really horny alpha werewolf and all, but by human standards... this is a really terrifying disposition. So much for respecting a woman's agency or free will.

Instead of growing their connection through shared hardship or emotional conflict, the story leans heavily—too heavily—on primal lust. And while that might work for fans of paranormal erotica, it weakens any argument for emotional realism or romantic depth.

Anyway...

Let's try to leave with something positive. Joanna is a character with tremendous potential. Seriously. Joanna is pretty much a slayer—like those special beings in Buffy who could take on vampires and stuff. She's a "hunter." And a lot of the werewolves view her with trepidation, fear, and distrust. She's kind of their enemy after all, or at least the one who is helping to keep them in line. Yes, there's a coolness factor to her. We just wish she wasn't constantly distracted.

We also get some of the politics of this world including with the Bureau (which regulates supernatural and werewolf activity), forming after an agreement with the US government of all things. We even get some politics in the werewolf packs themselves like with alphas, gammas, and bettas.

If you are into steamy erotic fiction with werewolves, maybe you'll like this.

Check it out on Amazon!