Page 61 of A Hunter for Luna

The guests gathered to watch, whispering avidly. Like the witnesses at my mother’s execution. How dare they treat this like entertainment?

I stood on tiptoe and breathed in Benedetto’s ear, "Please. This is madness. How many places have you had to leave after a killing duel? We need to stay here."

Benedetto turned and gazed at me, his expression blank and hard as marble. "He insulted you. Insulted your mother. Hurt you. I won't let it pass."

He strode forward to meet de Galli. Both of them raised their blades in a salute, and then they engaged.

de Galli’s sword shook as he raised it, whites showing all around his iris.

De Galli lunged forward, his blade flashing in the moonlight. Benedetto beat the sword to the side and smashed his fist into de Galli’s face.

The younger man stumbled forward, and Benedetto circled left and regarded him with boredom. De Galli recovered, bringing his blade up and approached cautiously. Benedetto kept a low guard and when de Galli swung high, used a circular motion to bind the other man’s blade and then a second circle sent it flying.

A quick slash across the disarmed de Galli’s right forearm drew blood, and de Galli screamed, grabbing his arm to stop the flow of blood.

With that wound, he’d never use that hand again without magical intervention.

Blood dripped into the deep grass in the quiet, broken by de Galli’s panting. Benedetto shortened his arm, the tip of his sword at de Galli’s throat. Even the man’s hissing breath stopped, transfixed as he gazed at his death.

Benedetto wasn’t even breathing hard. A sneer curled his lips. “You’re a dead man. In the future, remember that when you’re in my presence or my wife’s. Remember this moment before you gossip about my wife."

He gazed at the gathered crowd. “The next time any of you choose to. Her pleas are the only reason this walking dead man breathes.”

Benedetto grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the gawking crowd. I stumbled after him, my mind reeling. He did this forme. To defend my honor. Defying the entire aristocracy.

He hustled me into the carriage, his grip on my hand tight, almost painful. As soon as we were alone, he rounded on me.

"No one touches you but me," he said with anger and something else, something raw and possessive.

“Remember that.”

I jerked my hand away, my own anger boiling over. "You're the one who's been acting like I’m a burden," I said. "Maybe I should relieve you of the terrible duty of sex with me. A witch’s daughter."

His expression darkened.

Without a word, he hooked his hand in my bodice and yanked down. It gave at the seams, the entire front ripping away from my shoulders, falling away front and back, leaving my breasts and stomach exposed to his gaze.

His hot dark eyes met mine as his hands slid over my skin, calluses rough against smooth flesh. "Is that what you want? To be free of me?"

I shivered, my anger warring with the sudden heat his touch ignited. No, I didn’t want to be free of him. But I didn’t want to be his possession either.

When I leaned into him, he embraced me, and his hand brushed across my back. I froze, remembering too late what he would find. His fingers stilled over the scars that crisscrossed my skin, the long, jagged lines I usually kept hidden.

He jerked back and pulled me forward so he could twist around to look behind my back. "Who did this to you?" he said, his voice raw with a mix of horror and fury.

"My father," I whispered. "It's the price I paid for trying to protect my sister."

His grip on my arms tightened almost painfully. "Luna..."

I braced myself for his reaction, but instead, his anger seemed to melt away. He cupped my face, his touch impossibly gentle as he pressed his forehead to mine.

"I should have protected you," he said.

Tears stung my eyes. He wasn’t revolted by me. He wasn’t turning away.

I leaned into him, letting the warmth of his body seep into mine. For a moment, we just breathed together, the silence heavy with understanding.

"I'm sorry." His lips brushed against my temple. "I didn’t know."

---