Page 87 of Regret

Chapter 27

Present

Scarlet nestled her head deeper into the pillow. Hunter was on his side, slowly tracing his finger up and down her waist like he was committing every curve, every inch of her skin to memory.

The minute they stepped into the house earlier, Hunter tore the red dress right off her—literally. The entire foyer was currently littered with red fabric—and broken pieces of furniture, along with one smashed portrait of some or other half-naked woman painted in reds and yellows. It looked like a battle zone.

Naturally, Scarlet gave back just as hard. The claw marks on Hunter’s arms and neck were proof of that. Sex between the two of them was like war, a battle of passion and untamed desire that took complete possession of them both. And either they were too weak to fight it, or they were strong enough to embrace it.

Scarlet closed her eyes, her body aching in all the right places, yet more satisfied than she had ever been. How was it possible that within the span of a few hours everything changed so drastically between them?

Lighter. Easier. It was like something shifted and the attraction that had been there ever since they first laid eyes on each other no longer felt like something they needed to deny. In fact, it felt like they had no choice but to act on it. To give in to the need and consume each other. The way she felt when he touched her, it was like her soul came alive. And when her fingers would glide over his body, she felt his strength radiate from every ripped muscle, every well-defined ab, and the broad expanse of his back, and it made her want so much more. She never wanted to stop touching him, and she never wanted him to stop touching her. It just felt right…and odd.

Was she…was she falling in love with him? Was that even possible, for her to fall in love? Scarlet had never been in love before, she didn’t know what it felt like, what love was supposed to be like. The only glimpse of love she had was the sordid, twisted love Brent had confessed to her. It was ugly, it was malicious, and it was evil. But this, with Hunter, it was different, and she didn’t know what to make of it.

“So are you going to tell me why you chose this word?” His gaze followed his finger as it traced over the ink on her skin.Torment.

“Are you going to tell me about yours?”

“Maybe.”

For a moment they glanced at each other. It was already clear they were both screwed up from stuff that happened in their pasts. And after what happened in the restroom back at the bar, she was certain he knew what happened in her past, but she wanted to know what happened in his. What about his past had him so bitter, so sad that he felt the need to punish himself in a cage every night?

She wanted to know what demons he carried around, what kind of pain he needed to live with, and she was ninety-nine percent sure that it was because of a woman. A blue-eyed woman. That was the only reasonable explanation why he had the “never blue eyes” rule.

Scarlet lifted her hand and placed it over the tattoo on his chest, a heart being squeezed by a hand. “Tell me about this one.”

His hand paused and Scarlet could feel him tense, pain radiating all around him. For a moment, she didn’t think he would answer. Maybe it was just as painful for him to say the words out loud as she knew it would be for her to admit to someone what Brent had done.

But then his green eyes locked on hers. “Sometimes shit happens and it has the power to squeeze the life right out of you little by little.”

It wasn’t so much what he said, but how he said it. The pain that coated every word, and the way his eyes instantly lost their vibrant shade made Scarlet wonder if she really wanted to know what had fucked him up so badly.

“The blue eyes?” she asked softly, tracing every intricate line of the human heart on his chest with her fingertip.

He didn’t answer. And that was answer enough.

She took her hand off his chest and slipped it under her pillow.

“I was seventeen when it happened,” she started, and Hunter remained still, his gaze following his finger over her body.

“He didn’t pass his medical evaluation, so he was discharged. Sent home.”

Hunter’s hand slowly moved over her hip.

“No one thought it was true. Brent never showed any signs of being mentally unstable.” Deep inside her chest, Scarlet felt her heart being squeezed—slowly—with every word she spoke. Like Hunter’s tattoo.

“Until he showed me exactly how unstable he really was…in a shed…where no one could hear me scream for help. Where no one could hear me cry as he—”

“Stop.” Hunter gripped her waist tightly. “Stop. Don’t tell me more.”

“But I thought you wanted to know.”

“I don’t need to hear the details. I already know. And knowing what he did to you is enough to make me want to kill that son of a bitch in the most unimaginable ways. I want to see him bleed from a thousand different wounds—wounds I inflicted. I want to hear his screams for hours, days before he takes his final breath.” He took his hand off her waist and pulled it through his hair before turning on his back and staring at the ceiling.

Tears threatened to escape, but Scarlet swallowed them back. Too many tears had rolled down her cheeks already in her lifetime. But the thought that her torment, the hell she went through, affected Hunter like this made her heart swell inside her chest. Did he really care enough about her to feel this way, to feel like he needed to make things right for her?

Scarlet took a deep breath. “That’s why he’s so desperate to find me. He wants to make sure I don’t spill his little secret and jeopardize his chances on getting his hands on Grandma’s inheritance.”

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