Page 128 of Watch Me Burn
Hunter’s head swivels toward the doorway. Recognition flickers across his face. Recognition and fear. His body lurches toward the gun, his movements sloppy with alcohol and pain and too fucking slow for me. I’m on him before he reaches it, my fist connecting with his jaw with a satisfying crunch of bone.
“You motherfucking piece of shit.” I grab him by the throat, hauling him to his feet. “You don’t fucking touch her.”
I slam him against the wall. Plaster rains down, and a spider web of cracks spreads behind his head. The alcohol-induced bravado leaves his eyes, and terror takes its place.
“Please.” Air rattles through his windpipe. His fingernails dig into my knuckles, drawing blood. “I wasn’t goingto—”
“You hit her.” My voice is deadly calm. “You pointed a gun at her. You shot her wolf.”
My grip tightens. His face shifts from red to purple, veins bulging at his temples. His mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping on dry land. The fear in his eyes is beautiful. Intoxicating.
“You’re going to be begging for death when I’m through with you.”
“Damien, stop!” Luna’s voice cuts through the red haze of my rage. She’s crouched beside Shadow, the gun on the floor beside her leg, as she checks his wound with gentle hands. “You’re going to kill him!”
Hunter’s windpipe shifts under my palm. Cartilage gives way like wet cardboard. His face deepens from purple to blue.
“That’s the general idea, sweetheart.”
“Please.” Her hand touches my arm now, warm and insistent. “Not like this. Not in my home.”
For a moment, the only sounds are Hunter’s desperate wheezing and my own harsh breathing. My grip loosens, and Hunter’s chest expands. Air rushes into his lungs in a desperate gasp. His legs give way beneath him, and he goes down hard, his body crumpling against the floor.
“If you ever come near her again.” My voice carries the promise of unspeakable agony. “I will peel the skin from your body an inch at a time. I’ll keep you alive for days while I dismantle you one piece at a time. And when I finally let you die, it will be the greatest mercy you’ve ever known. Nod if you understand.”
His head bobs like a dashboard ornament. Tears, snot, and blood stream down his face.
But the rage still burns in my chest. The beast still demands payment. My boot connects with his chest. Something pops, wet and muffled. I know the exact spots to cause maximum damage. And pain. His body folds and slides across the floor until his skull meets the baseboard with a hollow thunk.
The sound echoes in my bones, making me want to hear it again. I step closer. Another kick. Then another.
“Damien!” Luna’s voice is sharper now, cutting through my bloodlust. “Stop!”
But I can’t. Not when I can still see the blood on her face and the terror in her eyes when he pointed that gun at her. I grab Hunter by his hair, yanking his head back.
“Look at what you did to her.” I force his gaze to Luna’s bruised face. “Look at her blood on your hands.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m drunk, I didn’t mean—”
My fist crashes into his nose, and it flattens under the impact. Blood explodes across his face, and the sound he makes is barely human.
“You meant every fucking second of it.” I hit him again. “Just like you meant it every time you hit her in the past.”
“Damien, I mean it. He’s had enough.”
I look up at her, forcing my vision to focus. Fear lives in her expression. Not of Hunter whimpering on the ground. Of me. Of the violence she’s witnessing.
“Not like this, Damien. This isn’t who you are.”
But it is. This violence, this craving for blood—it’s woven into me as deeply as my need for her. The man who flies her favorite meals from Denver and the killer who’ll slaughter anyone who hurts her exist in the same body.
“Please.” Her hand settles on my shoulder, warmth pressing through my shirt, gentle but firm. Her touch calms the beast.
I won’t do this here in front of her. I won’t taint her with my darkness. Instead, I release Hunter, and he collapses into a pathetic heap again.
“Get out.” I step back. “Run. Fast. Because if I see you again, I’ll be the last thing you ever see.”
Hunter struggles to his feet, slumping against the wall. His face is a ruin of blood and broken bone, and he’s holding his ribs like they’re on fire. Good. I hope he feels it with every breath.
