Page 46 of Shadow Hunter

He cursed under his breath. “Because I let my feelings for the job cloud my judgment. I let my hatred for those bloodsuckersfuel me so much that I went by the book, did what I was told like a good little soldier, instead of saving my friend. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Tiffany.”

“How? Tell me how.”

He ran his fingers through the short stubble of his hair, his jaw clenching as she forced him to remember the moment, remember what he’d done.

Damon’s voice was roughed, pained as he spoke. “We’d been planning a raid on the coven for months. They’d killed so many, that band. We’d planned everything out, but it all backfired when one of the new hunters-in-training stepped out too early. Stupid, untrained fucker. The vamps rushed us before we were ready. Mark fought Caius hand to hand. But then Caius managed to stab him with his own stake. Bastard left him bleeding out on the floor and ran. I was in pursuit of Caius’s elder, the head of the coven, and I…I was right on his heels.”

He put his hand over his mouth as if to hold in the words, then dropped it to his side again. “With all the other vampires battling for their lives against other hunters and Caius gone, I knew none of the bloodsuckers would be hungry enough to go after Mark. His wound didn’t look deep, and I was so caught up in the fight, in the adrenaline and anger of the chase, that I…left him. Followed protocol to kill the head bloodsucker instead of saving my partner. All I could see, all I could hear, all I could think about, was all those people I needed to avenge. So much so that I neglected one of the only people that ever fucking mattered to me.”

He let out a long shaky breath. “By the time I finished off the elder and went back for Mark, he was already gone. I tried to save him, to retrieve his body, but the vamps had lined the building with explosives. Somehow, they knew we were coming. The building went down with Mark’s body inside. I barely managed to get out alive.”

A fresh round of tears streamed down Tiffany’s face.

“I wasthe leader of that raid, and instead of saving my wounded partner, I was too obsessed with making the kill and following orders.” Damon’s hands curled into fists. “I willneverallow my anger, my emotions to get the better of me during a fight again, Tiffany. Ever. And I swore to myself that I wouldn’t get close to anyone again, wouldn’t make any personal attachments, so that I couldn’t fail someone, but I…failed at that, too.” He met her gaze.

“Well,” she said bitterly, “aren’t you the good, obedient soldier, protecting me.” She walked toward the door. She needed out. Needed some fresh air to breathe. Needed to place some distance between them. She placed her hand on his front door handle and turned. “I hope you enjoyed the kill.”

Without another word, she left the apartment, closing the door behind her quietly.

Pain stabbedthrough Damon’s heart as if someone had shoved a knife into his chest and twisted. If words or looks could kill, the pain and betrayal in Tiffany’s face would have been enough to destroy him. Never had he wished harder that he could have taken Mark’s place. That he’d died, and Mark had been allowed to live. Damon’s father had died late in life at a ripe old age, his mother not even two months later, as if the grief of her husband’s death, of his absence, had been too much to bear. Both had been gone for years, and he’d never had any siblings.

No one who would have missed him if it’d been him in Mark’s place, yet Tiffany would grieve her brother’s death for the rest of her life.

And he’d practically stolen her virginity. Slept with her under false pretenses.

Shit. He was a worthless prick.

And she still didn’t know the worst of it...that Mark hadn’t truly died. That he’d soon have to die again.

This time by Damon’s own hand.

He stood alone in his apartment, unable to do anything but shake his head in disappointment at his own fucked up existence before he looked up toward the heavens. Hell, it’d been a long time since he’d said any kind of prayer. He wasn’t even sure whether he believed anymore, and that was on a good night. “Whoever You are, if You’re listening, just...just help me make it up to her, all right?” he said into the silence of the apartment.

Then, without even stopping to put on his jacket, he rushed from the apartment, running after Tiffany.

The cold air of the falling January night nipped at his skin, but it didn’t even register in his mind. He needed to find her. He owed it to Mark, to himself to keep her safe. Nothing would happen, could happen to her while he lived and breathed. Not on his watch.

It didn’t matter that she hated him. He loved her.

The thought stopped him in his tracks.

He loved her. He fucking loved her.

The thought caught him off guard, the catharsis of finally admitting it to himself causing him to laugh. Of course, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her.

He’d been doomed from the start.

Because he loved her, before, now, always.

They could work their way through all the rest. It’s what he should have trusted in from the start.

Wiping the stupid smile from his face, he jogged for several blocks, eyes constantly scanning the streets for her. He had to tell her. Not now, but eventually. Assuming she had a car parkednear Club Fantasy, heading toward the club was his best bet. Twenty minutes later, when he still hadn’t caught up to her, he sprinted full speed back to the lofts, grabbed his car keys and jacket, and revved up the Monte Carlo. She must have taken a cab back to Club Fantasy, which only meant one thing: She was in a hurry...

Damon’s stomach dropped at the thought.

...because she was going after Caius, and she wanted to get to him before morning.

10

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