“These are all the names I remember killing. Give or take a couple thousand. I lost track over the years.”
Hauntingly beautiful black wings inked his entire back.
There had to be at least a thousand detailed feathers making up the shaded design. And inside each feather was a combination of unfamiliar scrolling letters.
The artist had done a good job incorporating them so they didn’t stand out. Instead, they hid within the rest of the lines.
So many lives.
He’d killed more than I could wrap my mind around.
Maybe I should’ve been outraged.
Maybe I should’ve been disgusted.
Even fearful.
But like I said, I’d seen what Etan forced him to do.
I’d felt how the Hell Rune erased him.
And this—right here—was proof Ronen wasn’t a vicious, evil killer.
He was only a male who’d been through unimaginable pain.
With each passing second, Ronen’s muscles tightened.
He had no idea what I was thinking, only what I was feeling. I bet he assumed I was one second away from hating him.
I slowly reached out, a little nervous, and grazed his back. Heflinched. I didn’t stop. I grabbed his side, the vibration of his skin sending warmth through my body, and pulled him backward between my legs.
My anxiety wiggled in my stomach, demanding to know what I thought I was doing. My invasive thoughts intruded, telling me we weren’t bold, we weren’t at this stage yet, this wasn’t what we did. But dammit! I could feel, be, and do anything I desired, and if it helped ease his fears, then I’d run boldly into the unknown. For him.
Filling my mind with warmth and light, I leaned forward. Hesitated. My breath skated across his tattoo, raising little bumps. I smiled.
“This doesn’t count,” I whispered. Then I kissed the names within reach, accepting his past—accepting him.
His muscles melted beneath my touch, but his anxiety barely lightened.
“After Gabriel’s death, I was able to eliminate the Hell Rune’s influence and escape Etan’s service,” he said quietly. “For a while, I was on the run, hiding from Etan and his followers.”
I slowed my light pecks, listening intently.
“I knew if he ever found me, I’d be back to the life that’d destroy me. But at night…” He paused, his voice lowering. “At night, when I wasn’t running or looking over my shoulder, my memories attacked me. Their faces. Their slaughtered bodies. Their pleas for mercy. Sometimes I wished for death. And other times… I wished for the Hell Rune, just so I didn’t have to feel it all.”
I wanted to hug him, but I didn’t dare interrupt.
“To this day, I still question how I made it to Hell. Gabriel’s words helped. But maybe the Weaver is real, and he knew,” he breathed, brushing the hand I still had clutching his side.
My eyes widened, and my chest squeezed. I gazed at the back of his head, hearing his unspoken words.
I didn’t know what to say. My hands turned clammy as my body flushed with nerves. Ronen didn’t seem to notice as he continued.
“My past continued to haunt me in Hell. It wasn’t until Dorus found me out in the cold and brought me to the castle kitchens that my life started to change. I didn’t want her help. But no wasn’t in her vocabulary. That surprised me the most.”
“Because you’re a big, bad general.” I laughed softly.
“I wasn’t a general at the time. But yes. I was a fully tattooed, strange male with a dark past. Anyone who saw me either cowered or shied away. But not Dorus.” A smile lightened his heavy words. “She forced me into her kitchens, where I earned food and Hellmarks. Once I got out of my own way, I realized I liked cooking. It quieted my demons. Then, when I tried baking, I discovered it completely calmed my mind, and I had a knack for it.”
