Page 88 of Dark Little Game
I shift on the bed, leaning forward. “I despise my father. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to sell him out to a crime family, Rayne. So the family ambushed me.”
“Ambushed?”
“They showed up at my apartment and attempted to kill me.”
Rayne’s eyes go wide. “You’re not serious.”
Deadly.
Fucking.
Serious.
“They’re quick with a gun, but I’m quicker at realizing when someone is hiding in my bedroom closet when I get home. They shot at me as I ran back out into the street, but I got away. I ran so fucking fast, probably four miles away, ducking behind every dark corner I could find until I knew they’d lost me.”
Rayne truly looks scared, now. “What the fuck, Hunter?”
“I got on the first random bus I could find. And then I went north. I hid myself away in Liverpool for a few months. I paid for everything in cash, which is always one resource I’m lucky to have. It gave me long enough to apply for transfer to Crimson College. And then I was gone.”
“That’s fucking terrifying.”
“It didn’t scare me. But it pissed me off. And that’s why I’m going to protect you from whoever is messing with you. Itpisses me offthat I can’t get revenge on the people who deserve it, so I need to channel that energy into something else.”
“You should just stay out of it.”
I give him a cold look. “Never.”
“You should,” he insists. “Don’t get yourself hurt just because you can’t let go of a grudge.”
“The people attacking youdeserve to be stopped, Rayne. They’re sloppy. They can’t even use a smaller dart to try to tranquillize you. They nail amateurish photos of you to the front door. They don’t even know how to scare people effectively?—”
“But I am fucking scared,” Rayne says loudly, cutting through the quiet in the room. “I’m scared, Hunter. I’m not afraid to admit that like you are. I’m so fucking scared?—”
I toss my knife onto the desk with a clatter and stand up, crossing the room to where he’s sitting on his bed.
I stroke his soft hair with my palm, looking in his eyes.
“You never need to be scared when I’m with you,” I tell him.
I mean every fucking word of it.
His hair still smells fresh from the shower and the scent of him near me is intoxicating.
He has a broken look in his eyes.
And as I gently stroke his hair, he leans forward, resting his head on the front of my body. A flare of possessiveness hits me strongly, like a wave crashing over my body.
Rayne’s demanding.
Mouthy.
A pain in my fucking ass.
But he’s also so raw with me in a way that I can’t get enough of. I like it when he’s near me. When his body is against mine like this, it feels correct.
We fit together.
And no one’s ever fit with me like this, Rayne.
