Page 72 of The Hunter

The unnamed narrator didn’t belong to Maxim deWinter’s past. But she was still haunted by it.

Just like Ariana was now being haunted bymypast.

I placed the book back where I found it, perusing the shelves again until my eyes landed onEast of Eden. My mother told me it might be a bit too mature for me when I asked to read it together, but I’d always been an advanced reader, thanks to her.

Even though I was only nine, she relented and we read the multi-generational story about inherited sin, free will, and redemption. She probably sensed I needed this. Needed to know that the sins of my father didn’t fall to me. That just because his blood ran through me, it didn’t mean I’d end up like him.

Right now, I could use that reminder.

Book in hand, I returned to the living room and eased onto the couch, propping my foot on a pillow. When I placed the ice pack on top of it, I released a hiss from the shock of the cold. After a few seconds, I got used to it and opened the book, grateful my focus was good enough to read the words on the page.

“You’re readingEast of Eden?” Ariana asked as she entered the living room a few minutes later.

“It’s one of my favorites,” I said. “I pick up something I missed every time.”

“I didn’t take you for a Steinbeck guy.”

I didn’t take myself for a lot of things lately.

“I’m just full of surprises,” I replied evenly.

“I’m beginning to realize that.” She held my gaze for a beat before heading toward the library, returning a few moments later withRebecca. She lowered herself into the chair, tucking her legs under her.

She didn’t say anything more. Neither did I. We just read.

Orsheread. I watched her.

I’d seen her read before, mostly on the security cameras. But this was different. Up close, I saw every flicker of her expression. The crease between her brows. The small twitch of her lips. The way her eyes widened slightly at certain passages, how her fingers grazed the page like she was savoring it.

She read like she felt things too deeply for her own good.

Like every word peeled back a layer.

She was…mesmerizing.

I could watch her read for hours.

Hell, I could watch her do anything for hours.

Eventually, the print began to blur and my eyes drooped. I shifted, trying to stretch out, but the couch was a damn torture device for someone my size, especially with my throbbing ankle. It was one thing to sleep on here last night as I constantly slipped in and out of consciousness. It was another to attempt to sleep on it now when I was much more coherent.

“Are you okay?” Ariana asked.

I hadn’t even heard her close her book.

“Just trying to get comfortable,” I muttered, wincing as I shifted again.

“You should sleep in the bed.”

“I’ll be fine. I slept in much more uncomfortable places when I was in the military.”

“But you’re not in the military right now. You’re in a house. With a bed. So stop being some macho man and go sleep in it.”

“Where would you sleep?”

“My legs aren’t as long as yours.”

I’d like to say I didn’t steal a glimpse of her legs as she stood, but I would have been lying. Because I did. Hell, I stole more than a glimpse. It didn’t matter that she was currently wearing yoga pants. They clung to her long legs like a layer of skin.