Page 63 of In The Dark
“If I were insane, you would’ve left by now. But here you are.” I trace the line of her jaw, smiling when she shifts on her feet and squeezes her thighs together. “Practically panting and begging me to touch you.” I dip my chin, pressing a kiss to her cheek then neck. Her soft moan is sultry, and I lick along the line of her throat. “Let me fuck you, baby. I’m all worked up, and only you can calm me down.”
TWENTY-TWO
MAX
A bloody knife?
A saner woman would be halfway home by now, but as I’ve learned over the last couple of weeks, I can’t think rationally when it comes to Hunter.
I know he doesn’t have an evil bone in his body. I’ve never felt like I’m in danger when he’s around, and as I stare up at him, his eyes patient and kind, I know I’m going to give in.
From the second I’ve met him, I haven’t stood a chance.
“How many people?” I whisper, and his fingers gently wrap around my hand. He takes the knife from my hold and tosses it out of the way, kissing the inside of my wrist. “How many people have you killed?”
“Eighty-seven over six years. I could tell you all of their stories if you want. The horrific things they did to their victims while they were still alive.” His mouth ghosts over my knuckles, his breath warm on my skin. “But I don’t want you to have to bear the weight of how evil this world can be. You’re too perfect for that, Max.”
“Did they all deserve to die?”
“Yes. Every last one of them.” He guides me to the edge of his bed. My hands shake as he brushes a piece of hair out of myeyes. “I know you said I’m a serial killer. And, by definition, I guess I am. But I feel pain when I hurt someone I care about. I cry. I’ve never laid a finger on a woman out of anger, and I never will.” Hunter rests his forehead against mine and sighs. “This is something I feel called to do, almost. But if you want me to stop, I will. I care more about you than the money this brings me.”
“Wait.” I pull away from him. There’s a drop of blood on his forehead. Another on his earlobe. “You getpaidto kill these people? How does no one report them missing?”
“I get paid generously. The guy who started the organization has investors. Rich people who need slates wiped clean. And no one reports anyone missing. That should tell you about the kinds of people I’m dealing with.” Hunter stands and scratches his chest. “I’m going to shower. I don’t like touching you when I have blood on me. I don’t want you to get caught up in that part of my life.”
“I’ve seen the knife. I’m pretty caught up in it.”
“You’re right.” He bends and kisses the top of my head. “If you want to leave while I’m in there, I’ll understand. If you want to stick around, I’ll only be a few minutes. Forget fucking. I’ll make you a cup of tea. We can watch a show on Netflix and fall asleep. I know you have school in the morning.” My throat bobs when he moves his mouth to mine, kissing me in a soft and easy way that could convince me he’s never committed an act of violence before in his life. “Whatever you decide, Max, I’ll respect.”
Hunter pulls away and gives me a smile, taking his bloody clothes to the bathroom. He shuts the door behind him and I stare at the barrier, conflicted.
We haven’t had a conversation about the future. There’s been no discussion about what our relationship is besides kinky sex and light stalking.
Could I fall asleep next to him every night knowing there’s blood on his hands? Could I let him touch me and not flinch, a worry always lingering in the back of my mind that he’d do the same to me?
Deep down in my heart, I believe he’d never do that. He’s had the chance to overpower me multiple times, but he hasn’t. He’s been nothing but gentle. Even when I ask him to be forceful with me, begging for him to fuck me harder, there’s hesitancy behind his actions. Concern that he might break me, and that’s the last thing he wants to do.
A deep breath helps center me. A second long exhale relaxes my shoulders. By the third gulp of air, I’ve made my decision.
For as many shitty people as I’ve dated in my past—all the men who have ghosted me, who have cheated on me, who have ignored me and given me a half ass effort in our relationship—Hunter has constantly proven himself as one of the good ones.
Murder aside, of course.
I feelsafewith him. I feel taken care of,adored, and I grab my phone, looking up something on the internet.
Hunter emerges from the bathroom ten minutes later, a wall of steam following behind him. A pink towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets drip down his shoulders and chest. He stops when he sees me on his bed, his whole face lighting up in a smile that’s miles wide.
“You’re still here,” he says.
“To get the blood out of your clothes, you’ll want to soak the stain in cold water as soon as possible,” I tell him, and he hums.
“Yeah?” He takes a step toward me, mouth twitching. “What should I do after that?”
“You’ll need to use hydrogen peroxide or bar soap. I’m assuming you have one of those?”
“Would you believe me if I said I have a big ass bottle of hydrogen peroxide under the sink for this very reason?”
“Once you do all of that, you can wash the clothes in warm water with bleach.”
