“Cain said you made a point of touching the ones you—” She broke off, briefly closing her eyes. “He said that before you executed another Hunter, you used your Breed ability to feel their fear as they begged you for their lives. He said you wanted to feel their agony before you killed them.”
Asher slowly nodded. “That much is true, yes.”
“Oh, my God.” Revulsion seeped through their connection, oily and bitter. “Oh, shit. I didn’t want to believe him . . .”
She was repulsed by his admission, he could see it in her stricken expression as much as he felt it in her blood. She drew back from him, but Asher caught her around her nape.
“It’s true that I laid my hand on every Hunter I had to execute. I did want to feel their terror and their anguish.” He spoke over her strangled moan, forcing her to hold his gaze as he bared the blackest pieces of his soul. “I did it, Naomi, because I never wanted to forget them. I wanted to remember every face, every pair of fearful or defiant eyes that fixed on me as the last thing they saw. I never wanted to let myself forget the brothers I killed in order that I could keep living. That was my penance, to never forget.”
She relaxed in his loose grasp, only the slightest bit. Her body sagged with the weight of her heavy exhalation. When she spoke, her voice was almost too soft to be heard, her eyes turning tender on him, even pitying. “How many, Asher?”
He shook his head. “Too many. I was selfish, even then. And without honor. If I hadn’t carried out Dragos’s edicts I would’ve been the one to die. I made certain that when I delivered death it was swift, even when Dragos called for suffering.”
“I can’t imagine how terrible your life was,” she murmured. “All of the Hunters’ lives.”
No, she couldn’t. He wished no one could be able to imagine that kind of brutal, bleak existence. But he and Cain weren’t the only Hunters walking the Earth with memories of those years, and sins to be reconciled.
There were others. Scythe in Italy now, along with Trygg, another former Hunter serving the Order over there.
Countless more scattered to each corner of the globe in the two decades since the program, and Dragos, were destroyed.
Asher smoothed the pad of his thumb over Naomi’s slackened lips. “As awful as my life was back then, I didn’t want to die. For a long time, I didn’t know why it was important to me to keep going, to keep living.” He stroked her cheek. “Now I know what I waiting for.”
She wept softly, but kept her arms down at her sides, refusing to touch him.
“It was unfair of me to drink from you before you knew who I was . . . what I’ve done. I don’t deserve your bond, and I know I won’t ever be worthy of it. I’ll never be worthy of your love, if I haven’t already lost that.” He held her face tenderly in his palms and searched her bereft, hurting gaze. “I love you, Naomi. All I want is a future with you at my side, but I don’t know if you can ever look at me the same way as you did before.”
“No, I can’t,” she admitted softly. “But I can’t blame you, either. I won’t blame you for doing what you’d been born and trained to do, Asher. What hurts the most is that you didn’t give me the chance. You didn’t trust me enough to be honest about your past and how it shamed you. Instead I had to learn it from someone else. I’ve never felt like a bigger fool.”
“I know,” he muttered, his own self-loathing like acid in his throat. “I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for so much where you’re concerned.”
She eased out of his reach, her voice constricted. “It doesn’t matter right now. Michael’s dead, Asher. Because of me, my best friend is dead. And Tyler and the other kids could be anywhere in the city now with no place to go.”
“We’ll figure that out,” he vowed. “And as soon as the sun goes down, I’ll take care of Leo Slater.”
“No.” She shook her head, wearier than he’d ever seen her. “He’s taken everything he can from me now. I’m finished fighting him. He won. He doesn’t matter anymore, only those kids do.”
She stepped away from him, bringing her arms across herself. Then she turned and headed down the hall to the master bedroom and closed the door, quietly shutting Asher out.
He stood there, knowing she wouldn’t want him to follow. Not this time.
He felt her sorrow in his veins as she broke down in private behind the closed door and mourned her friend alone.
CHAPTER 23
A quiet knock sounded on the door. Naomi had dozed off on the bed at some point, exhaustion and grief finally dragging her down into a deep sleep. She roused now, feeling both rested and yet utterly drained.
“Come in.”
Ironic to be granting Asher permission to enter when it was his bedroom, his house—his life—that she had intruded upon with all of her problems.
She sat up on the bed as the door swung open and he stepped inside accompanied by Sam, whose entire body wiggled in excitement as he trotted up to her looking as though he hadn’t seen her for a week.
“Hey, sweet boy,” she said, unable to resist ruffling his neck and stroking his floppy ears. Tongue lolling, he danced and whined in front of her, his blissful ignorance of the day’s many traumas somehow comforting to her now.
“How are you doing?” Asher asked, watching her pet and scratch the happy hound. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I was awake when you knocked. What time is it?”
