“He’s afraid I’m the crazy girl they found by the creek. The girl who killed Armand. Who set my uncle’s house on fire.” I look at Hunter, his face blurred by tears. “You all think I’m going to crack again. Fall apart in the middle of a party and ruin everything. Timothy thinks it. You think it. Even Damon probably does, even if he won’t say it.”
Hunter crouches in front of me so we’re eye-level. Ares drops to the floor beside him, head resting on my knee.
“That’s not true,” Hunter says quietly. Firmly. “None of that is true. First of all, he doesn’t even know you killed Armand, so I’d stop saying that.”
“See?” I laugh–short, bitter, more breath than sound. “You think the same.”
“I don’t.”
“Then why else won’t you fuck me?”
The question hangs there, raw and ugly. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look away.
“You know why,” he says.
I shake my head, rocking harder now. “You’re just like him. Pretending like things aren’t about me when theyareabout me. You all act like it’s for my own good, like you’re protecting me, but it’s really because you don’t trust me to handle it. You think I’m scared of pain? I can take whatever you give me, Hunter. I can take whatever he gives me. You all still think I’m weak. Or naïve. Or a child. I’m none of those things.”
My voice cracks on the last word. I hate it–hate how small it makes me sound. But I can’t stop. The words keep coming–faster.
“I survived Strong Manor, being kidnapped anddying. I survived Armand and the Hunt. My time in the cage, when everyone looked at me like I was broken glass waiting to cut someone. I’m still here. But you look at me like I’m going to shatter if you push too hard. Like one wrong move and I’ll be back in my mind, the place where I can barely find myself. But I won’t. I can’t.”
Hunter stays crouched, hands loose between his knees. He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t flinch. Just listens while I unravel, and when I finally run out of breath, the room is too quiet. Just the crackle of the fire in the other room and the soft huff of Ares breathing against my leg.
Hunter exhales slowly through his nose. “I don’t think you’re weak,” he says. “I don’t think you’re naïve. And I sure as hell don’t think you’re a child.”
“Then what?” My voice is barely above a whisper now. “Why won’t you claim me like the others?”
He looks at me for a long moment–really looks. The warmth is still there in his eyes, but it’s tangled with something heavier. Something that’s been there since the beginning. “I’m not pretending it’s not about you,” he says. “It’s all about you. Every hesitation. Every time I stop short. It’s because I want you so fucking much that it scares me. And I’m terrified that if I let go of that last piece of control,I’ll hurt you. Not because you can’t take it. Because I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”
My throat closes. I blink hard, but the tears come anyway–hot, silent, sliding down my cheeks. Hunter doesn’t wipe them away–he doesn’t touch me at all.
“If you were any other girl, I wouldn’t have thought twice, do you understand that?” he asks. “Any other girl would be tied to this bed, covered in cigarette burns and bruises. She’d be begging for her life, not begging for more.”
I nod, wrapping my brain around that. “I understand.”
“I’m not him,” he says. “I’m not walking away. I’m right here. And when I’m ready–when we’re both ready–I’ll show you exactly how much I trust you to take everything I have to give.”
Ares nudges my knee with his nose, a soft whine in his throat.
I don’t say anything else, I’m too tired, physically and emotionally. The fight has drained out of me, leaving something fragile and aching in its place. Hunter doesn’t reach for me. He doesn’t try to close the space between us. But he doesn’t move away either. The quiet stretches, thick and steady. Ares settles at my feet, and both of our breathing evens out.
My eyes flutter shut, and I let sleep take over. Even without Hunter’s touch, I can feel him there–solid and patient–as sleep finally pulls me under.
38
Damon
The hallwayoutside the bedroom is dim, just the low glow from the sconces along the wall. A few days ago, I was able to trap the mama cat down by the boathouse and bring her back to the dormitory. Now she and her kitten are warm and safe in the dorm laundry room. I slow when I hear the voices coming from the bedroom, low, raw, and unmistakable.
I stop just outside the cracked door. Arianette’s voice cracks through first, small and shaking.
“He’s afraid I’m the crazy girl they found by the creek. The girl who killed Armand. Who set my uncle’s house on fire.” A wet inhale. “You all think I’m going to crack again. Fall apart in the middle of a party and ruin everything. Timothy thinks it. You think it. Even Damon probably does, even if he won’t say it.”
My stomach drops like a stone.
Hunter’s reply is quiet, steady. “That’s not true. None of that istrue. He doesn’t even know you killed Armand, so I’d stop saying that.”
It’s a weak argument, and she knows it.
