“Fuck,” I breathed and braced myself against the worktop. “Sorry.” I wasn’t sure if cursing in front of a God counted as a sin.
“Don’t worry.” Hunter dismissed my apology with a wave of his hand. He crossed the space in a few steps and stood in front of me. “Would you allow me?” He nodded towards my ribs, and I felt the panic flood my chest and my muscles tensed.
My grip on the neck of the bottle grew tighter as I stared ahead at Hunter’s chest. When Grayson had unleashed his powers, it had been unanticipated violence. I wasn’t entirely sure if I could trust Hunter, but he didn’t come across as threatening. Grayson challenged us all off the bat, but Hunter had exercised reason and understanding. He was softer and more welcoming.
“Okay,” I agreed quietly.
Hunter moved a step closer and placed his hands on either side of my waist. The blood rushed to my cheeks again at how intimate the touch felt. It was difficult to ignore the beauty they held. So effortless. So flawless. It clouded my rational thought until I forced myself to think about the experimental set-ups I had to prepare for the week.
A bright, electric blue glow enveloped his hands, and I tried to break away from his touch.
“It’s my aura,” he explained, holding me in place. “I will not hurt you.”
Before long, I felt warmth run through me. It felt like a spring day when the sun kissed my skin and I wished it wouldn’t disappear into the horizon. It reminded me of summers that belonged to my childhood, spent on white sand beaches with my brother and parents — luscious and lazy.
After a few moments, Hunter let go of me and I released the breath I’d been holding, along with the nostalgia.
Tentatively twisting my torso, the pain no longer existed. “Thank you,” I said in disbelief, patting along my ribs, trying to find a fault in his healing hands.
“It’s the least I could do,” he replied. “How would you phrase it?” he mused. “This needs to be a symbiotic relationship.”
“It needs to be mutually beneficial,” I defined.
“Precisely.”
I lamented the fact I hadn’t been placed with Hunter and envied all of those who had. He was compliant, and that would lead to success. Grayson didn’t want symbiosis. He wanted to make us suffer because this was all beneath him.
“I’ll take my leave,” Hunter said, stepping away from me. “I’m sure my wife is waiting for a full report on what happened today.”
“Thank you again for everything you’ve done,” I said to him, feeling like the words weren’t enough but having nothing more to give.
He smiled in return and left in the blaze of blue that belonged to him.
Later in the evening, when Matt returned to the house, I was curled up on the end of the sofa with my laptop, scrolling through journals.
He asked, “Is everything okay? You’re alone.”
“Not alone,” I corrected him.
Somewhere in the house, I assumed upstairs, lived our test subject. The residual fear remained and stopped me from climbing the stairs and seeking solace in my room. There was a thin line between bravery and foolishness. I wasn’t about to cross it for a second time in twenty-four hours.
“Hunter left?” Matt asked.
“Yes.”
“And you haven’t seen —”
“Quiet as a mouse.”
“How long do you think that’ll last?”
The million-dollar question. Grayson didn’t strike me as the type of person who took things lying down.
Chaos.
Destruction.
Vengeance.
