Page 40 of A Shadow of Betrayal

When he moved to grab the shirt he had placed on the back of his chair, my eyes fell on the pale raised skin that covered his body like thin tendrils, cutting through the beautiful artwork he had covered himself in.

Lines that match the ones that cover my back… Scars. Lennox is covered in scars. But he can heal himself?

What kind of horrific wounds did he have to get to have those scars?

When his dark green eyes snapped up to meet mine, instead of yelling at me like I thought he would have, Lennox simply nodded to the small wooden table that now sits facing his own much larger desk. I wordlessly plopped down on the small chair, deciding it best to keep my mouth shut and not ruin my luck as he yanked his shirt back in place.

I didn’t miss the weird look he gave my choice of clothes, and I didn’t bother to explain that Jordan had been explaining the purpose of the leather corset piece. Instead, we dove straight into my lessons, and I prayed that his good mood would last the evening.

Now, however, my luck has run out since I can physically feel the annoyed glare Lennox has trained on me as I shift uncomfortably in my seat, trying to ignore the burst of disappointment I feel at not being able to figure out the whole healing thing.

“Ranger Smith. You need to be able to heal yourself. We already know you are a Hunter,” Lennox starts, and I send him an unsure look, the doubt I’m feeling from my complete failure at everything I do resting heavily on my shoulders.

Maybe I am a Fracti? I don’t seem to have any of the other gifts besides the ability to see the Demons. Well… I have strange dreams, but I don’t think that’s part of being an Umbra Hunter. The doubt I feel grows until it’s almost overwhelming at this point, which makes him huff a sigh as he probably reads my mind with his weird voodoo magic shit.

“I know I had my doubts when you first arrived, but you responded to my magic that night, which can only happen if you are a blooded Umbra Hunter with the sight. Unfortunately, I think being brought up in the human world has emotionally stunted your ability to heal yourself,” he says calmly, his oddly soothing words not helping much. “I’m sure that if we continue trying, we will find your gifts. It might help to know what other bloodline you have that is altering your Regalis coloring. It might help me pinpoint what your gifts might be,” he says thoughtfully.

“I have weird dreams,” I offer with a shrug of my shoulders, making him tsk under his breath, and shake his head.

“That's not helpful. Umbra Hunters can’t dream walk. Maybe you're a witch,” he says, almost like he’s teasing, but I can't be sure.

“Wait… really?” I whisper, leaning a little closer to him. Lennox smirks and shakes his head.

“No, Razar would have killed you already if you had been.”

“That would explain all the death glares he’s been sending me the last couple of days. What's his deal anyways?” I ask, then instantly wish I hadn't when Lennox’s face hardens, and he glares at me.

“That's none of your business. Stay away from Razar, Ranger,” he growls out, and I arch a brow, unsure what to say. This guy's mood changes every time I see him, and it's giving me emotional whiplash. I always have to keep my guard up around him, unsure if he is going to be that gruff man who is somewhat helpful or the dangerous, angry man who looks at me like I'm the scum under his feet.

“Yeah, and what is your answer to the lack of strength and speed?” I ask, thinking back to the hand-to-hand training class where all my fellow Regalis Hunters had moved so fast it was hard to keep up with them. Lennox frowns and sighs.

“I don’t have one. It is possible that you have the sight but not the gifts that come with them,” he offers, his brows drawing together as he paces behind his desk, running a giant hand through his long black hair and making the small silver beads braided there, clink together. “The DeLuca and Axford lines are not known for their strength or speed. Perhaps the odd shade of blue your bloodline results held was because you are heavily mixed with another bloodline,” Lennox says, more to himself than to me.

“Is that a common occurrence? To not have the gifts that come with the sight?” I ask, frowning. It does sound like my kind of luck to end up defective like that. Not a Fracti… but not a Hunter either. Lennox stops pacing and looks over at me, moving his hand from his long hair to his beard.

“No.”

“How many Hunters are there that have the sight and nothing else?” I ask, looking down at the big book in front of me, scanning the pages like it might have the answers I’m looking for. Then I glance back up and gasp in surprise when I find Lennox towering over me, his frown deepening as he crouches next to my chair and looks at my hands. His eyes fall on my perkier-than-normal chest, and he sighs, averting his eyes like he’s annoyed.

“What the hell are you wearing?” I blush a little and roll my shoulders forward, trying and failing to hide my boobs.

“Oh, I-uh, found this with my stuff on my bed last night, and Jordan was showing me how to put it on,” I ramble, grinning a little at the memory of Jordan's amused expression when he had looked up from his book to find me strapping this on.

Lennox tenses beside me and slowly turns to look at me, his eyes locking with mine, sending a thrill through me that I don’t like. Nope, not at all.

“Jordan… was dressing you? How did this come about?” he growls, eyes flickering with anger and making me pull back from him, wanting some space from the murderous vibes he’s now throwing off.

“No, I was already dressed. Jordan was just helping me lace this up, making sure it was placed right and explaining why everyone runs around in leather. I was beginning to think I got dropped in some medieval BDSM club,” I rush out, clasping my hands together in front of me, then hissing in pain when I squeeze too hard, making the wounds on my hands burn in response, and I rest them on the desk in front of me.

“This is getting infected,” he grumbles, reaching out with a thick finger and poking at the inflamed cut.

“Ow,” I grind out, moving my hand further from the big man who is now in my space while trying not to think about how damn good he smells. But seriously? What the hell is that scent? Almost smoky in nature, but more manly smelling than anything else. I can feel my body warming up at Lennox’s nearness, and a burst of heat forms between my thighs, followed closely by a wave of self-loathing.

No, Meyer! Do not let this asshole affect you like that. He’s a dick that likes to make you suffer and has told you he doesn't care about your well-being. Meanwhile, I can feel my entire body come alive under Lennox’s scrutiny, and I almost groan when he darts his hand out, gripping my arm with firm fingers, careful to avoid my wound as he yanks me toward him.

“Stop whining,” he rasps, bringing my hand up close to his face, his eyes flicking from the cut Axford had inflicted to the scratches I got when I fell on the stairs.

I hold my breath, equally uncomfortable and aroused, as his eyes flick up to the tiny cuts I got in class yesterday. Today I had been paired with Jordan, and he hadn't even tried to use a Kalis, instead opting for wooden swords while teaching me how to hold it correctly and the proper footwork needed while lunging at someone.

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