Page 20 of Soulmarked (Hellbound and Hollow #1)

19

MARK OF THE PAST

C ity lights painted shadows across my apartment walls, turning familiar spaces into something darker, more uncertain. Sean sat across from me, elbows on knees, hands clasped tight enough to whiten knuckles. The events in Sterling's office still hung between us, heavy with implications neither of us had been ready to face.

“Tell me everything,” Sean said finally.

I stood, needing to move, to put space between us before his intensity cracked what little control I had left. The mark on my chest throbbed steadily, like it knew we were finally confronting what I'd spent years avoiding.

“I don't,” I started, then stopped, running a hand through my hair. “Most of it's just fragments. Impressions. The snow was falling. My parents were already...” I swallowed hard. “There was a voice. In my head, maybe. Or everywhere. It asked if I wanted to live.”

“And you said yes.” His voice wasn't accusatory, just stating a fact.

“I said yes.” The admission felt like betrayal, though I couldn't say of what. “That's all I remember clearly. Everything else is just darkness. Cold. Pain.”

Sean watched me pace, his eyes tracking every movement with hunter's focus. “But that's not all, is it?”

I moved to my desk, unlocking the bottom drawer with hands that barely shook. The leather journal inside was worn smooth from years of handling, its pages stuffed with loose notes and sketches. Evidence of an obsession I'd never quite been able to explain.

“I started keeping track when I was young with my best friend Kai and his father Leo,” I said, setting the journal between us like a confession. “Every strange dream, every unexplained incident. I tried to approach it methodically, find patterns in the chaos.”

Sean opened the journal carefully, like he understood the weight of what I was sharing. His expression shifted as he flipped through pages of detailed sketches of creatures glimpsed in shadows, notes on supernatural patterns, symbols that had haunted me since childhood.

“You've been tracking things connected to this mark for years,” he said softly. “Long before you joined CITD.”

“I had to.” The words came out sharper than intended. I resumed pacing, unable to stay still under his scrutiny. “I didn't have a choice. Every answer I got just led to more questions. Every pattern I found suggested something bigger, something I couldn't quite...”

“Couldn't quite what?” Sean pressed, and there was something almost gentle in his tone that made it worse. “What were you really looking for, Cade?”

“I don't know!” I spun to face him, control finally fraying. “Answers? Understanding? Some logical explanation why I survived when my parents didn't? Why I can see things other people can't? Why every supernatural creature we encounter looks at me like they know something I don't?” My analytical mind had been searching for patterns for so long, and still I had nothing concrete.

Sean stood in one fluid motion, closing the distance between us. “Or maybe you were looking for the truth about what owns you.”

“No one owns me.” The denial was automatic, defensive.

“The mark says different.” His hand reached for my chest, not quite touching where the sigil burned beneath my shirt. “Whatever saved you that night, whatever gave you this power, it wasn't charity, Cade. These kinds of gifts always come with a price. Nothing's ever free in this business.”

I knocked his hand away, anger and fear and something else making my voice raw. “What do you want me to say? That I'm afraid of what I am? That every time this thing burns, every time it reacts to something we're hunting, I wonder if I'm becoming one of them? If my research is leading me somewhere I don't want to go?”

“I want you to stop pretending you can handle this alone.” Sean caught my wrist, his grip firm but careful. “Stop acting like you've got everything under control when we both know you're barely holding on. You can't research your way out of everything.”

The contact sent electricity through my skin, the mark flaring in response. Sean's eyes widened slightly, he'd felt it too, that surge of power neither of us understood.

“I can't,” my voice caught. “I can't let go, Sean. The moment I do, the moment I really think about what this means...”

“Then what?” His other hand came up to cup my face, the gesture startlingly gentle for someone who killed monsters for a living. “The world ends? Reality breaks? Or maybe you just finally admit you need someone in your corner?”

“I have people in my corner,” I protested, but it sounded weak even to me.

“You have people you protect,” he corrected. “People you help. People you'd die for without hesitation. But when's the last time you let someone protect you? You can't always be the responsible one, Agent.”

“That's rich, coming from you. Mr. 'Kill-first-ask-questions-never.' You think everything's so simple, don't you? Just black and white, monsters and humans? You don't even try to understand what we're dealing with.”

“At least I'm honest about what I am.” Sean's voice rose to match mine. “I don't hide behind badges and bureaucracy, pretending I'm not neck-deep in this world. At least I don't pretend I can analyze my way out of everything.”

“You think I wanted this?” The words tore out of me, raw and ragged. “You think I chose to be whatever the hell I am? To spend every day wondering if I'm turning into something...” I cut myself off, but it was too late.

Sean went very still, the kind of stillness that meant he was seeing too much. “Into something what, Cade?”

All the fight drained out of me suddenly, leaving only bone-deep exhaustion. I sank onto my couch, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes until I saw spots. “I don't even know what I am anymore.”

“You're Cade Cross.” Sean's voice had softened, but there was steel underneath.

I let out a hollow laugh that felt like it might shatter. “Am I?” My hands trembled as I lowered them, and I hated that he could see it. “I've spent my whole life researching, analyzing, trying to understand monsters, and now...” The mark burned steadily, a constant reminder of what I'd become. “I think I might be one.”

The silence that followed felt heavy enough to crush. I couldn't look at Sean, couldn't bear to see judgment or worse, pity, in his eyes. The city lights painted shadows across my floor, and I wondered how many of them were really just shadows anymore.

“You stupid bastard.”

I looked up, startled by the raw emotion in Sean's voice. He crossed the space between us in two quick strides, hands coming up to cup my face. The touch was gentle, so at odds with the hunter I knew him to be.

“You're not a monster,” he said fiercely. “You're the most stubbornly human person I've ever met. You still care, still try to save everyone, even when it's probably going to get you killed. Hell, you even try to save the monsters when you can.”

“Sean...”

“No, shut up and listen.” His thumbs brushed my cheekbones, the tenderness of the gesture making my chest ache. “I've seen monsters, Cade. Real ones. The kind that enjoy causing pain, that feed on suffering. You? You throw yourself between innocent people and danger without hesitation. You lose sleep over victims you couldn't save. You keep fighting even when it would be easier to give up. That's not monstrous. That's as human as it gets.”

“That doesn't change what I am,” I whispered, but my hands had come up to grip his wrists, holding on like he was the only solid thing left in my world.

“No,” he agreed. “But it defines who you are. The mark, the power, whatever chose you that night, they're just tools. What matters is how you use them.”

I looked up at him, really looked, and saw something in his eyes I hadn't expected. Not judgment or fear, but understanding. Maybe even something deeper.

“I'm terrified,” I admitted, the words barely audible. “Of what I might become, of what I might already be. All my research points to something I don't want to face.”

“Good.” His smile was soft, genuine in a way I rarely saw. “Means you're still human enough to feel fear. Still human enough to...”

I rose from my seat, closing the distance between us in a single motion. I kissed him. Or maybe he kissed me. The distinction didn't matter as much as the way he responded, one hand sliding into my hair while the other dropped to my waist, pulling me closer. The kiss was gentle at first, almost hesitant, like we were both afraid of breaking something fragile.

I clung to him like a drowning man finding shore, and he held me just as tightly. His mouth was hot against mine, tasting of whiskey and promises neither of us had dared to voice.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against mine. “You're not alone in this,” he murmured. “Whatever's coming, you don't have to face it alone anymore. You don't have to research every answer yourself. Some things you just gotta feel.”

The mark hummed contentedly, as if agreeing. For the first time since that snowy night when my world ended, I felt something like hope.

“I don't know how to do this,” I admitted. “Any of it. I can't find a precedent for what's happening.”

“Good thing you've got me then.” His smile turned wicked. “I'm excellent at making things up as I go. Research can only take you so far.”

I laughed, the sound surprised me, and the tightness in my chest began to unwind. Sean was right—I wasn't alone anymore.

Whatever I was becoming, whatever future the mark was leading me toward, I had someone in my corner now.

Someone who saw the darkness in me and wasn't afraid.

The city continued its endless rhythm outside my windows, full of shadows and secrets and creatures that lurked beyond the veil of ordinary perception. But here, in this moment, with Sean's hands steady on my skin and his heartbeat strong against my palm, none of that seemed to matter quite as much.

We had monsters to hunt, gates to close, and a Prince of Hell to stop. But for now, this was enough—this understanding, this connection, this moment of peace in the eye of the storm.

I pulled back slightly, breathless, my chest rising and falling against Sean's. The mark hummed beneath my skin, more active than I'd ever felt it, like it recognized something in him that called to it.

“Let me see it,” Sean whispered, his Irish lilt softer than usual, intimate in a way that made my heart skip. “The mark. Show me.”

I hesitated, old instincts warring with new trust. No one had seen it since the doctors in the emergency room that night, not even Sterling knew exactly what it looked like. But Sean's eyes held nothing but understanding, and maybe something deeper that neither of us was ready to name.

Slowly, I unbuttoned my shirt, letting it fall open. The mark sat over my heart like a brand, its strange shape pulsing faintly with an otherworldly light. In the city's neon glow filtering through my windows, it seemed to shift and move, as if responding to Sean's presence.

“Jaysus,” he breathed, one calloused hand coming up to hover over the mark without quite touching. “It's not just a scar, is it?”

I shivered as his fingers finally made contact, tracing the mark's outline with a reverence I'd never associated with the ruthless hunter. “No,” I admitted. “It's alive, somehow. Active. Sometimes when I sleep, I hear it calling.”

“Calling?” His touch was feather-light, but I felt it like electricity through every nerve. “What does it say?”

“I don't know. It's not words, exactly. More like...” I struggled to find the right description, my analytical mind trying to categorize something beyond understanding. “Like music, but darker. Like something ancient trying to remember what it used to be.”

Sean's other hand came up to cup my face, turning me to meet his gaze. “And you've carried this alone all these years? Christ, Cade, no wonder you're exhausted.”

“I didn't know how to explain it. How do you tell people you hear voices in your dreams? That sometimes you feel power under your skin that no human should possess? There's no research protocol for this.”

“You tell someone who's seen enough impossible shite to believe you.” His thumb brushed my cheekbone, the gesture achingly gentle. “Someone who knows what it's like to carry something dark and still choose to be light.”

“Is that what I'm doing?” I couldn't help leaning into his touch. “Choosing?”

“Every day.” His smile was soft but certain. “Every time you help someone instead of turning away. Every time you fight monsters instead of becoming one.”

The mark pulsed between us, and Sean's eyes widened slightly. “It's responding to me,” he murmured. “Can you feel that?”

“Yeah.” I covered his hand with mine, pressing it more firmly against the mark. “It's never done this before. Never reacted to anyone like this. It doesn't match any of the patterns I've observed.”

“Maybe it knows something we don't.” His accent thickened slightly, the way it did when emotion got the better of him. “About why we found each other. About what we're meant to be.”

“Thought you didn't believe in destiny.”

“I believe in what I can see.” His eyes met mine, intense and certain. “What I can touch.” His fingers pressed against the mark, sending sparks of sensation through my body. “What I can feel.”

“Sean...”

“Let me help you figure this out,” he said softly. “Let me be there. Not just as a hunter or an ally. As...”

“As what?”

Instead of answering, he kissed me again. But this time it wasn't about desperation or fear or the need to forget. This was slower, deeper, heavy with promise and possibility. His hands stayed on my skin, one over the mark and one cupping my face, holding me like something precious instead of something marked by darkness.

The mark hummed contentedly between us, its usual burning sensation transformed into something warmer, more welcoming. For the first time since that snowy night, it felt less like a burden and more like a gift.

“Together,” Sean murmured against my lips.

I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, seeing my own vulnerability reflected in his eyes. “You sure about this? Getting involved with me, it's complicated. Dangerous. All the evidence suggests this isn't going to end well.”

His laugh was low and rich. “Love, I hunt monsters for a living. Danger's not exactly a deterrent. And sometimes you've gotta stop analyzing and just take action.”

“This is different,” I insisted, even as my hands refused to let go of him.

“Good thing we've got backup then, yeah?” His smile turned wicked. “Between your fed friends and my hunter contacts, we've got a proper army brewing.”

The simple confidence in his voice made something warm unfurl in my chest. Because he was right, we weren't alone in this.

But most importantly, we had this connection, this understanding, this moment of perfect clarity in a world full of shadows.

Sean's hand was still over my heart, steady and warm against the mark that had defined my life for so long. But now, instead of feeling like a brand of ownership, it felt like something else.

“Together then,” I said softly, and felt his smile against my lips as he pulled me close again.

We moved in tandem toward the bedroom, neither willing to break contact for long. The hallway became a blur of half-shed clothing and stolen kisses. Sean paused at the doorway, his hands working at his belt with practiced ease. I watched, mesmerized, as he slid his pants down over lean muscle, the hunter's scars on his thighs telling stories I wanted to learn with my fingertips.

The moonlight through the bedroom window painted his skin in silver and shadow as he joined me on the bed. His weight settled over me, warm and solid and real.

He lowered himself back to me, skin against skin now, the warmth of him sending electricity across every point of contact. His gentleness contradicted the strength I knew his hands possessed.

“Fuck, Sean,” I gasped, arching into him, the pressure in my gut coiling tighter.

He hummed around me, sending vibrations up my spine, his dark eyes flicking up to meet mine, wicked amusement sparking in them. He enjoyed this—watching me fall apart, knowing he had me like this. His fingers dug into my thighs, holding me steady as he worked me over, slow and thorough, until my breath turned ragged and my grip on his hair tightened in warning.

He pulled off with a soft, satisfied sound, pressing one last kiss to the head of my cock before sliding up my body. His mouth found mine, and I could taste myself on his lips, something raw and possessive tightening in my chest at the thought.

“You're fucking lethal,” I muttered against his mouth.

His grin was sharp, teasing.

“Christ, Cade...”

The way he said my name sent a shudder through me, like he was touching something deeper than skin. Like he saw me—all of me—and wanted me anyway.

His mouth found mine again, and we moved together in a tangle of limbs and heat. My world narrowed to the feel of him, the taste of him, the way he gasped when I slid my hands down his back, nails biting into muscle. He pressed me into the mattress, and I arched against him, lost in the feeling of his weight, his warmth, the way he fit against me like he belonged there.

There was no hesitation when his hand slid between us, fingers wrapping around me, stroking slow and deliberate, like he wanted to unravel me piece by piece. My breath hitched, and I buried my face against his shoulder, my body already burning with need.

“Sean—” I choked out, barely recognizing my own voice.

He didn’t answer, just kissed me again, slower this time, like he had all the time in the world. His free hand trailed lower, over my thigh, then between, fingers teasing, coaxing, spreading me open for him.

“Got you,” he murmured against my lips, and fuck, I believed him.

He reached for the lube—he must’ve had it nearby, the sneaky bastard—and slicked his fingers before pressing one inside me, slow and careful. I gasped at the intrusion, my fingers tightening on his arms, but he was patient, watching my face, waiting for any sign of discomfort.

“Breathe,” he said, his voice low, coaxing. “Let me in.”

I did. I let him in, let the sensation roll through me, let him take his time opening me up. By the time he worked in a second finger, I was shaking, my body already begging for more. He curled them just right, brushing against that spot that sent sparks up my spine, and I swore loudly, hips bucking into his touch.

Sean chuckled, the sound rough with want. “There he is.”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

His breath caught, and something in his expression went molten. He pulled his fingers free, slicked himself up, and lined up, pressing the head of his cock against me, waiting. Just waiting.

I met his gaze, saw the flicker of something vulnerable beneath the hunger, and it made my chest ache. I lifted a hand to his face, thumb brushing over the scar on his cheek.

“Together,” I whispered.

Sean exhaled, then pushed in, slow and steady, sinking into me inch by inch until he was seated fully inside me. The stretch was intense, burning for a second before it melted into something deeper, something that made my whole body hum with pleasure.

“Jesus—” Sean bit out, his hands gripping my hips like he was afraid to move, afraid to break me. But I wasn’t made of glass. I was stronger than I’d ever been. Strong enough to take him, to hold onto this, to choose this.

I rolled my hips experimentally, and Sean cursed, his grip tightening.

“Fuck, Cade?—”

“Move.”

He did. He pulled out just enough to thrust back in, finding a rhythm that had me gripping the sheets, gasping his name. Every snap of his hips sent fire licking through me, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until I was barely holding on.

Sean pressed his forehead to mine, his breath ragged, his hands shaking where they held me.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered.

I clung to him as we moved together, sweat-slicked and desperate, every thrust dragging me closer to the edge.

The moment shattered around us. My orgasm ripped through me like a live wire, my body clenching tight as I came between us. Sean wasn’t far behind, thrusting deep one last time before he groaned against my skin, his release spilling into me, his body shuddering as he followed me over the edge.

We collapsed together, tangled in heat and breath and sweat, our bodies still pressed close, still connected. Sean didn’t move right away, just kept one hand over my heart, over my mark, like he was anchoring me there.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured after a while, voice rough, spent.

“You fucked me stupid.”

Sean huffed a laugh, but his fingers traced over my mark with something like reverence. “Show me.”

I hesitated, but he’d already seen me bare, already touched every inch of me. There was nothing left to hide. So I took his hand and guided it lower, pressing his palm flat against the center of my chest.

The reaction was instant. The mark flared beneath his touch, bright and searing, and Sean inhaled sharply, his fingers twitching against my skin.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “It’s warm.”

“Yeah. It does that sometimes.”

He lifted his head, eyes dark and searching. “Does it hurt?”

I swallowed hard, my own hand coming up to cover his. “Not anymore.”

His thumb brushed the edge of it, tracing the jagged, ancient lines, and something in his expression softened. “This thing’s been part of you for a long time.”

“Yeah.”

“Not just yours anymore, though, is it?”

I looked at him, and it wasn’t just the afterglow making my chest ache. Because he was right. The mark had defined me for years, had dictated my choices, my fears, my future. But now, with Sean’s hand over it, with his body still flush against mine, it felt different.

It felt like something else.

Something shared.

Something chosen.