Page 61 of Hell Raising and Other Pastimes (Grave Concerns 2)

“My past doesn’t include eating mortals.”

He blew out a sharp breath, as if he didn’t even likehearingthe words.

Yeah, well, neither had I. It felt fair forbothof us to suffer.

“I told you I wasn’t born, that I was made, and that happened back at the very start. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been alive, Ava?”

Hearing my name on his tongue felt wrong, and it kept me silent.

“I wasn’t always what I am now. Most hellhounds stay in hell. It’s more comfortable, easier, more fun. The more time we spend in hell, though, the less we connect with that spark inside us that is mortal. For a long time I avoided the living realm. I relished in this side of me, in what I am, and yes, I did horrible things during that time. I protected the borders, slaughtered anything that dared to go near it, and anything that got past me? I let it go.”

I didn’t understand where the story was going, so I let him tell it, listening in silence.

“Jerrod and I hunted together. Two sadistic peas in a pod. And, yes, wecravemortal life force. It is this driving desire, and when we would find it here? When a mortal ended up here?” His eyes took on an odd light, something between desire and disgust. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose slowly. “I’m not proud of what I was, of what I did, but I’m not thatthinganymore.”

“Why not? What changed?”

“I was wounded by a creature that got past me and made it through the barrier. Normally I would have let it go but I was enraged by it managing to actually hurt me. I followed it, tracked it for days, watched the carnage it left in its wake. When I finally caught up, it had cornered this girl, only ten at the most. It had already killed her family, and in her eyes, sheknewshe’d die. She was sure of it. She didn’t cry, though. She stood there with this tiny little dagger, ready to do whatever she could. It was then I saw her little sister, just an infant, in a basket behind her.” He went silent, his gaze on the far wall as if played out before him.

“What happened?”

He jerked slightly, as though I’d woken him. “I killed the creature before it could harm them, but when I turned toward her, she buried that knife in my side. In her eyes I saw the same fear, the same hatred. I realized that while I guarded the boundary, I wasn’t any different from the things that got through.” He sighed. “I wanted to be different, though. I didn’t go back to hell right away. I stayed in that town, stealing food and money for that girl and her sister, leaving it for them but staying out of sight. Time doesn’t pass for me like it does for others—a result of having lived so long, I guess—and before I knew it, the girl was a mother herself. I watched over her for her entire life.”

“Did she ever see you again?”

He nodded. “She’d catch glimpses of me, but never acknowledge me, never speak to me. At least not until she became very sick. Her children were around her, her grandchildren. She was this frail old woman, and it was strange, because it reminded me of her as a child. Fragile yet strong. She called for me, yelling out ‘come in here, beast.’”

I sat up, the story drawing me in.

He licked his lips, as if they’d become parched, but I suspected it was nerves. I doubted he’d ever told this story before.

“I gave her the knife, the one she’d stuck in my side, like some sort of parting gift. She asked me why—why had I saved her? why had I helped her?—and I told her. I said, ‘I didn’t want to be what you saw. I wanted to be more.’”

“What did she say?”

Hunter sighed and met my gaze. “I’ve learned we don’t get the things we want, that good stories don’t happen. I want to say she forgave me, that she looked at me like I was suddenly good, that there was some wonderful epiphany that I had earned. In reality, she coughed up blood and told me, ‘You have darkness inside you. It doesn’t matter how much good you do, that darkness won’t go away.’”

I wanted to slap the woman, to shake some sense into her. What ahorriblething to say to someone who had spent decades looking out for her.

He met my gaze finally, the sorrow there and for once not hidden behind a joke. “She wasn’t wrong. I am what she said. I am darkness and evil and it took a very long time for me to understand what she meant. It wasn’t a reprimand—it was a warning. I am those things, but they don’t mean I have todothose things. A tiger can kill, and nothing changes that, but they don’thaveto kill. I am darkness, but that doesn’t mean I have todothose things.” His hand moved, as if he wanted to reach out but stopped himself. “You used to look at me the way I wantedherto, like I wasn’t that thing she said I was. Now you know, though, you’ve seen it, and it sticks with you. Still, if I have to do as I did before, if I have to spend all your years protecting you, I’ll do it happily again, because what I am isn’t what Ichooseto be.” He spoke with so much confidence, as if it were a sacred oath he gave me, that he gave himself. A commitment to what he wanted to be rather than what he’d been born.

I reached out and slid a hand behind his neck as I sat up, taking his lips in a passionate kiss.

He groaned, the sound honest and surprised and thankful, as if he’d expected rejection and couldn’t believe his luck.

His words stuck with me, though. How could I blame him for his nature? For what he was before he knew better?

And besides, hadn’t he shown me over and over again who he was now?

“Can I have you, shadow-girl?” My nickname on his lips felt like home, and I tugged at him as my yes.

Hunter undid his pants, sliding them off so he was gloriously naked. He moved into the warm water with me, making the waves lick at my skin.

His body was solid against mine, and he fell into the cradle of my thighs.

That first time, when he’d licked me through more orgasms than I even tried to keep track of, it had been slow. It had been passionate and crazy for me, but he’d been methodical. Later, with Grant, it had been about quenching some need.

Now? This time? It was a hunger deeper than breathing. When he kissed me, he did it with such abandon, as if he needed nothing more.

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