Page 51 of Silent Vendetta (Vendetta Duet)

Luna

The morning light, filtering through the sheer curtains, cast a gentle luminescence on the white marble counter I was sitting on as dust particles danced in the sunbeam, like frozen remnants of the close call I’d just had falling from that window.

Hunter and I were in his bathroom, where he’d laid out a first aid kid next to me. His gaze raked over my body, each glance leaving a trace of heat on my skin, making me more aware of every bruise and cut—his brow furrowing deeper with each discovery. Then he delicately picked up both of my wrists, turning my arms over, his lips thinning when he saw a handful of fresh scratches along my skin.

“You saved me,” I choked out, the weight of gratitude and surprise tangling with the pain in my voice.

For a brief moment, Hunter locked eyes with me before he snapped them away and retrieved a fresh washcloth from the drawer, wetting it with water and soap.

The scent of fragrant lilies mingled as drops of water fell with a rhythmic patter into the sink, as if echoing my heartbeat.

“I’m the only person that knows your identity.” I literally held the keys to his freedom, if not his life, in my hands, and he didn’t even need to do anything to make that problem go away. I had jumped out of that window of my own accord. All he had to do was let me drop, and if my skull had hit the stone below, this might’ve been over for him.

“You could’ve let me fall,” I said. “Your complication would have been over.”

Hunter shook his head.

“If you think for a moment I’d ever allow something bad to happen to you, then you still don’t understand the depths of my feelings.”

He gave me a slight frown, like he realized how holding me hostage was giving off all sorts of mixed signals on that.

With the sharp sting of antiseptic biting into my scrapes and cuts, I watched him. His furrowed brow, the tightness around his eyes, his mouth drawn into a thin, grim line. All of it was evidence of Hunter’s deep conflict, as if he was battling demons of his own while trying to heal mine.

The room fell silent, save for our shared, ragged breaths, and eventually, his grip on my arm loosened, his touch lingering just a moment too long before he retrieved a roll of white gauze, wrapping it around the cut he’d just cleaned up.

None of my new wounds were deep, luckily.

But the ones from Franco…those Hunter studied with a frown, cradling my arm tenderly.

“They stopped bleeding,” he said. “But you still need stitches for the skin to repair properly.”

“You should get the one on your shoulder checked out, too,” I said, nodding toward it with my chin. “You’re hurt.”

Hunter glanced at it but shook his head.

“Hunter, let me see how bad it is,” I insisted.

“Not until every cut on your body has been attended to.”

Hunter moved on to the next wound, applying antibacterial ointment and covering it with an oversized Band-Aid. He moved on to another one on the back of my arm.

Each touch was gentle, and caring, yet with an undercurrent of something forbidden, lighting up pathways of sensation I wasn’t ready to understand. Its warmth defied time and logic, as if Hunter’s affection remained imprinted on my soul. He looked over my arms, and my legs, examined my scalp with his fingertips, the back of my neck.

“Okay, that was the last one,” I said. “Now let me see your shoulder.”

I tugged at Hunter’s pants to pull him closer to me, widening my legs so he could stand between my knees, waiting for him to pull his shirt off.

For a moment, I became mesmerized by the gorgeous muscles blanketing his torso. His lined abdomen was just inches from my reach.

“I need you to be shorter,” I said.

Hunter hesitated before slowly sinking to his knees.

It wasn’t lost on me, the position we were in. Under different circumstances, this could be sensual, his face so close to my inner thighs.

Just as it had been when he’d held my legs apart on the hood of his car, just as it’d been when he’d pulled my body to his mouth on that staircase.

I forced myself to ignore the intimate memories drifting through my head and instead reached for a cloth, dunking it in soapy water before using it to clean his shoulder.

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