Page 32 of Howling Love (Hunter’s Moon Ritual #1)

Basir

Twenty-two minutes . I lasted twenty-two minutes before I had to force myself from her bed, retreating to the shadows where I could watch her safely.

My gaze traced over her peaceful expression as lightning from the storm outside filled the room with momentary silver before submerging me back into darkness.

It was hard to put into words, especially to Gracie, how deep the dark well of my soul was.

How the petroleum scent of shockdust in back alleys and the feel of slick blood on cobblestone had become a part of me.

How I existed as an ink stain on a beautiful piece of paper. How I lived as a shadow to my own life.

I savored the light, but I would never own it. I’d killed far too many for that to be possible. I had marked my skin with shadows and light to remind myself that while there was a vibrancy to life, it would never be mine to hold.

Just like Gracie .

She would always be out of reach, her perfection like a glowing sunset slipping through my bloodstained fingers. My glow breathed perfection, and she existed as a pinnacle of light and beauty.

Which was why I needed to stay the fuck away from her.

I would ruin her, like everything else I’d touched. The darkness and depravity that twisted inside of me tried to latch onto her whenever she was within reach, selfishly wanting to absorb her lightness, to bathe in it while dragging her down into the darkness so she couldn’t escape.

Gracie didn’t realize that I was a threat to the freedom she so tentatively held. If I gave in, I would shackle her to me. I couldn’t love her any other way.

And what I wanted from her physically…I shook my head at that thought.

Her kiss and touch were so sweet, so much so that it was painful, and the way she looked up at me was filled with trust that surged through our bond.

But if she knew how I wanted to own every inch of her, to demand she give me everything so there were no parts left untouched, she would be terrified.

She would look at me like the monster I was.

No. I could never take her as mine. Gracie had just escaped a master, and I wouldn’t become her new jailer.

It didn’t remove my desperate need for her, though.

A low rumble broke from my throat as my gaze lingered over her body.

One leg was over the sheet, her body curled on her side, her sweatshirt pushed up at her hip to reveal a pair of sleep shorts.

She slept without regard to her safety, completely trusting me.

And I was actively betraying that trust, imagining all the ways I could ruin her.

I wanted to hear her soft, sleepy moans as she melted under my touch, my tongue tracing her skin as she lay open and vulnerable to me.

I wanted to feel how she would squeeze around me as I slid slowly into her tight heat, having teased her until she was soaking wet, infiltrating her dreams with my mere touch.

I wanted to watch her come around me as I stroked in and out of her, her body trembling as I spilled inside her, marking Gracie completely .

I wanted to be able to leave my mark inside her, to bring her pleasure without her ever seeing the darkness inside of me—something I wouldn’t be able to hide from her unless she was like this . Completely mine yet safe…from me.

Ripping my gaze away, I let out a harsh breath and ran a hand over my face. I needed to get out of here. I would never be worthy of my glow.

But no matter where I was, I would crave Gracie obsessively. I would take any touch she willingly gave, even if it was agonizing how badly I wanted her.

I was a fucking addict for any attention she would give me.

I went to leave, to repress the need ringing in my head, but before I could, a glow emanating from the bed had me moving closer in confusion. As if The Eight were mocking me, I watched as Gracie’s soft skin shimmered with an otherworldly glow.

It wasn’t light—it was pure temptation, spilling over her skin in delicate, molten gold. My fingers moved before my mind could stop them, tracing the shimmer.

It vanished at my touch.

It was a gut punch that nearly made my knees buckle as anger, sadness, and frustration fought within me. What was wrong with me? Putting my head down, I forced myself to step back, feeling shaken to my core and knowing that I needed to leave. Now.

“Basir?” Gracie’s voice was sleepy, and I felt guilty for waking her as I slowly looked up, finding her watching me with sadness.

“I have to leave.” My voice was harsh, causing her to blink as she sat up, confused.

“I don’t want you to. I want you to stay.”

I wished I could have controlled myself, but I didn’t have the willpower anymore.

I moved forward in a fast, predatory movement, pinning her to the bed.

My lips slammed against hers, and a moan left her lips as her fingers slid into my hair.

The slight tug had my cock hardening as I pressed down on her, feeling her body open for me, her legs falling to either side of my hips.

Our kiss was heated and desperate, the need between us slashing at our bond and demanding attention—demanding we give it what both of us so clearly wanted.

Her soft vanilla and cinnamon scent filled my lungs, and I broke away for only a singular moment as I brushed my lips down her jaw to graze her throat.

I could imagine my teeth slicing into her skin, marking her as mine.

I could feel how wet and hot she was through her sleep shorts, and I could picture the feeling of her clutching around me before coming.

Fuck. I let out a low rumble as my hand moved to her waist, slipping underneath her sweatshirt, wanting to touch her, wanting to feel more of her?—

Scarred skin met my fingertips.

My breath stalled, and my brutal world narrowed to that patch of roughened flesh.

Rage, bright and blinding in its heat and power, exploded inside of me.

My vision filled with red as I sat back just enough to push her sweatshirt up, a concerned noise leaving her throat.

A deep, primal growl left my chest at the vision that greeted me.

Puckered, rough skin covered the left side of her torso, as far up as I could see and down to her hip—and I knew that the scarred tissue was only a flicker of the agony she’d suffered from the burn that caused it.

“Who did this to you?” My voice was raw and broken.

Her body trembled as fear infused our bond. I couldn’t… I couldn’t fix that, not until I knew who’d hurt her—who had caused her so much torment, so much pain.

Gracie squirmed underneath me, and when I pulled back from her she tucked her legs against her chest, her sweatshirt falling to cover her.

A vulnerable expression was painted on her face as she looked at me with slight fear but also embarrassment.

I didn’t have the words to express how much fury was coursing through me, but I knew my reaction was upsetting her—hurting her.

My fingers moved to graze her jaw as I spoke in a harsh voice. “Answer me.”

Her gold eyes fell shut as she let out a heavy exhale. “The night of the raid, when I was taken from my home, one of Ivan’s men used my body to open a door that was alight with flames. I know it’s hideous.”

I could see her shame, the way she wouldn’t meet my gaze. Suddenly, my rage was incomparable to my need to comfort her. I would kill whoever did this. That wasn’t in question. But in this moment, Gracie was far more important than revenge.

Gracie fell back on the bed as I moved forward and held myself over her, brushing my nose against hers.

My voice portrayed every ounce of the emotion I felt, and some I hadn’t even realized would leak through.

“There isn’t an inch of you that could ever be considered hideous, Gracie.

That scar shows what you survived. It shows how you healed despite your imprisonment. ”

A small sniff had me pulling back as I realized that tears were welling in her eyes. She stared at me with a warm thread of affection that radiated through our bond.

Gracie’s response was soft, almost a whisper, but it shot straight through my heart. “Couldn’t I say the same about your darkness?”

The anger seeped out of me as I stared down at her, my own history trying to claw up my throat. I found myself speechless in the face of her ability to pinpoint exactly where I stood.

“No,” I said, forcing the truth to leave my lips. “ You are a survivor. You were a victim of cruelty. I inflicted it.” It was as clear as I could make it.

“Did you? Or did you defend yourself from the life you were placed in, the cards you were dealt? Inflicting violence in reaction to a dangerous situation is not the same as being cruel or bad, Basir. You were ten.”

She was clawing at those doors I kept sealed, the vault I kept buried. I couldn’t…I wouldn’t let myself think that she could be right. I could comfort her, though. Or at least try to.

I dipped my head down and kissed her soft lips gently, not allowing myself more, before pulling back. I saw the disappointment at the wall I was putting up between us, but she had to know—she had to understand—that it was to protect her.

“I didn’t mean…”

I moved next to her in bed as she stared at me with concern. I immediately brought her against me, giving in to the moment because I wasn’t strong enough to convince her to see me for the monster I truly was. Not tonight—not feeling this emotionally raw.

“If you want me here, I’ll stay tonight.”

She graced me with a beautiful smile, as if I was worthy of that light.

I hadn’t given her what she truly wanted—belief that I could be salvaged—but if she wanted to rest her head against my chest, to allow me the pleasure of holding her, I wouldn’t fight it.

Not in the darkness of this room. Not while my shadows pulled at me and she glowed in my arms like a sunset I could never quite reach.

I would watch over her with permission. And tomorrow, in the brilliant light of day, I would do better. I would protect her better—even, and especially, from myself.