Page 91 of The Hunter

“How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

She gasped. “You were only twelve?”

“After all the shit my dad put me through, I felt like I was thirty. Maybe older. I had to grow up real fast out here. Which is why I should have done something sooner. Should have stood up to my father before then. If I had, maybe?—”

“Maybe what? What could you have possibly done? You were only a kid.”

“It doesn’t matter, Ariana. I may have been a ‘kid’, but I knewexactlywhat he was. Saw how horrible he was to Spencer. Saw how my mother slowly faded away with each day she was forced to live under this roof. Under his rule. I was theonlyperson who could protect them. Who couldsavethem. And I didn’t.”

“Because he whipped you bloody and raw for even trying.”

I shook my head. “I should have tried harder. But I didn’t. I gave up. Because of that, Spencer froze to death. And my mother took her own life.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is. If I’d just?—”

“Henry…”

Ariana pushed up and crawled on top of me, straddling my waist. She leaned toward me, her hands on either side of my face as her eyes locked on mine, fierce and steady.

“It’s. Not. Your. Fault.”

“Ariana…”

“Say it.”

I tried to look away, but her hands held firm.

“Say it’s not your fault,” she demanded when I remained silent. “I did it for you. It’s your turn.”

I heaved out a sigh and said, “It’s not my fault.”

“Is that the best you can do? Try again, and actuallymeanit this time.”

“It’s not my fault,” I repeated a bit louder.

“Again.”

I rolled my eyes, but did as she asked, repeating the words again. Then again. And again.

Each time, it got easier. Each time, it felt more like the truth.

Just as it did for Ariana yesterday when I made her do the same thing.

And just like Ariana was so overwhelmed with emotion yesterday that she kissed me, I did the same thing, gripping the back of her neck and pressing my lips to hers. But this kiss felt different than before. It wasn’t desperate or wild. It was tender. Full of quiet ache and impossible softness.

She positioned herself over me, guiding me inside her, inch by incredible inch. I closed my eyes, savoring the stretch, the connection, the way her breath hitched against my mouth.

We moved slowly. Like we had all the time in the world. No tomorrow. No yesterday. Just skin and sighs and the press of sweat-slicked bodies beneath tangled sheets.

I traced every scar. Every mark. Worshipped each one. She gripped my shoulders, moaning softly, her eyes fluttering closed as she rode the edge of something deeper than carnal want.

“Keep them open. I need to know you’re here. That you’re with me.”

She followed my command, keeping her eyes glued to mine as she continued to rock her hips against me.