Page 48 of Make Me Hunt
I hand her the glass, then take a few steps toward the pool, stopping right at the edge. My back to her as I stare into the water, waiting for the moment she’ll find the courage to speak.
“Brynn,” I trail off, after long minutes of silence. My glass is already empty. So is my patience.
And I guess she feels it, because this time, she does answer. “Why do you care?” Her voice is sharper than I can usually brush off.
She’s trying to challenge me.
Like I shouldn’t care.
Like I’m stepping out of my boundaries.
Like she’s a nobody to me.
Still, my actions prove she’s much more than just a one-night stand. And at this point, I don’t care. Don’t care that she sees through me. Don’t care if she knows I feel something for her more than just lust. “I told you. YOU ARE MINE!”
She probably thinks it’s some kind of possessive, territorial instinct. I wish it was that simple. But it’s not. It’s so much more complicated than that.
I also know she probably doesn’t trust me.
Why would she?I forced my way into her world and left her no choice but to play by my rules. “I’m not going to judge. I just need to know how you got those scars. Tell me, and I’ll never bring it up again—if that’s what you want.” I try to keep my mouth shut about the horrors I’d unleash on the one responsible. She doesn’t need to hear that right now. Doesn’t need my anger—though I suspect I’m doing a shitty job hiding it.
“Would you pour me another?” she murmurs, sounding almost defeated. Like she knows there’s no other way around this.
I comply, pouring her another whiskey and slipping it between her fragile fingers.
She takes a moment before downing the entire glass in one swallow, like she’s trying to build enough courage to speak.
I reach for the empty glass, and as soon as I take it from her, my fingers slip between hers. Not something I’ve done recently. Not something I’ve done for centuries, maybe even millennia. And from the look in her eyes, the gesture is as unfamiliar to her as it is to me. For a second, I even think she’s going to pull away, but then her fingers tighten around mine, and as much as she hates the closeness, she needs it.
“I’ve never talked about this,” she whispers, so quietly I almost miss it.
“And I’ve never been a good listener. So, I guess this is something new for both of us.” My fingers stay firm against hers, encouraging her to go on as I find my spot on the couch, sitting next to her while she’s lying down.
She takes a few more minutes, lost for words, trying to figure out where to begin.
“It’s okay. I’m here for as long as you need me,” I reassure her, ready to stay here until morning, or maybe even until the end of time. I still have no clue what the hell she’s done to me, but what I do know is that I don’t want it to end. Anger. Lust. Maybe even a kind of joy I’ve never felt before, all conjoined into something too intense to ignore. Something so powerful that it risks leaving me hollow without her.
Just when I’m about to ask her if she wants another glass, she shifts, clutching one of the couch’s pillows. I can’t help my heart from breaking, just a little, because I know this isn’t in her nature.
In a way, I’m even afraid of what she might say, of what she might trigger in me. But I must go through with this. We both do. Because if she’s telling the truth, and she’s never told anyone, then she never faced it. And she’ll never get past it. It’ll always stay buried, like a dormant nightmare. A residue in the back of her mind that won’t give her peace.
twenty
-Ares-
Brynn lifts her eyes to look at me, noting the fight in my gaze. This is as hard for me as it is for her, maybe even more so since I also need to fight to keep the monster within at bay. She’s probably still weighing whether she should start talking or just get up and bolt. But there’s a silence in the air, telling her it’s time to bring the demons of her past into the present.
“I never knew my parents,” she starts, letting out a heavy breath like the effort of even speaking is more than she can handle now. Yet, she does it anyway. “I grew up in different foster homes... being more of a job than anyone’s kid.”
Her fingers twitch against the rim of the glass, the tremor barely noticeable. But I know it’s there.
“It was okay. I kind of got used to it, even got used to being the outsider.” She shrugs like she’s trying to make it sound smaller than it is. “I was constantly switching schools and friends… Well, not exactly friends, I didn’t have any. I was mostly an introvert. Kept everything to myself. Never let anyone in. This was my life until I was around sixteen. Never had a best friend till then. Never kissed a guy. Never told anyone what I felt.” She pauses, her gaze meeting mine like she’s afraid of what she’s about to say next. Like she just realized she’s about to make a confession. And shenevermakes confessions. Neverletsanyone in.
But I stare back at her, the intensity of my gaze making her realize I’m not letting her back out now. I need to know. I need to help her overcome this. Whateverthismay be.
“The summer I turned sixteen, I was relocated to a different family in Kent, not too far from Seattle. And for the first time in my life, things were going amazingly. Maybe it was anyone else’s normal, but for me, it was a dream come true.”
She smiles, but I can see the bitterness tucked behind it.
