Page 126 of Vital Signs

He sat rigid in the passenger seat, but it wasn't fear or trauma keeping him frozen. It was hunger. The same desperate need that had made him promise to worship every inch of my skin, to make me forget everything but his name. I could feel it radiating from him despite the distance he was trying to maintain.

Wright had gotten to him. Not enough to break him, but enough to make him question whether the man he'd fallen in love with was someone who could kill without hesitation. Whether loving a predator made him complicit in the violence, or whether it simply made him smart enough to choose the right monster.

"Misha." My name on his lips was rough with smoke and want.

"I know," I said, already scanning the roadside for somewhere private. Somewhere I could prove to him that the man who'd destroyed Wright was the same one who'd chosen to heal instead of hunt. The same one who'd kill again and again to keep Hunter safe.

We needed each other with the desperate intensity of people who'd just survived something that should have destroyed them.

I pulled into the parking lot of a motel, neon bleeding red across wet asphalt. Hunter turned to look at me properly for the first time since we'd gotten in the van, confusion replacing the hollow look in his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm not sharing you with the family tonight," I said, killing the engine. "You need space to process this, and I need you to myself."

His expression softened. "Good," he said finally. "I don't want to be around people either."

The room was generic motel standard: two double beds, a wheezing heater, television bolted to the dresser. Hunter sank onto the edge of the nearest bed with his head in his hands, looking smaller, vulnerable in a way that made me want to crawl into his lap until he remembered he was safe.

I dropped to my knees in front of him, hands settling on his thighs. "Look at me."

Hunter's head came up slowly, eyes red-rimmed and haunted. "I wanted it," he said, barely a whisper. "When Wright offered the drugs. For a second, I wanted it so badly my hands shook."

"But you didn't take it."

"What if next time I do?"

"Then I'll remind you why you chose me the first time," I said, meaning every word. "I'll hold you through it again, count yourheartbeats again, prove that you're stronger than the craving. As many times as it takes."

That's what Wright had missed in his clinical evaluation. Recovery wasn't about willpower or strength. It was about having something worth staying conscious for. Someone worth choosing over the high.

"The way you looked at me when I said no," Hunter continued, eyes fixed on mine. "Like you were proud of me. Like I'd done something brave instead of just... not being a junkie."

"You did do something brave," I said firmly.

Some of the tension left his shoulders. "I love you," he whispered.

His eyes dropped to where my hands rested on his thighs, and I saw the exact moment he noticed the dark crescents under my nails. His expression shifted, something protective and tender replacing the vulnerability.

Hunter stood, pulling me up with him, and led me to the bathroom. "Your hands first," he said, voice stronger now. "I need to clean Wright's blood off your hands."

Heat spiked through my veins instead of revulsion. Not guilt. Satisfaction. Proof of what I'd done when someone threatened what was mine.

Hunter guided my hands under warm water, his fingers interlacing with mine. Soap lathered between our palms as he worked, thumb scraping beneath each nail. Pink water spiraled down the drain.

"I could've killed him," he said, his reflection's gaze sliding away from mine in the mirror. "You didn't have to do it for me."

"Yes, I did. You're a healer. That's who you are."

"And what does that make you?"

"A predator," I said. The word tasted right. "Roche didn't break me, Hunter. They just woke me up."

Hunter's grip tightened on my hands. "I still want it," he whispered. "The fent. I probably always will. But I want you more. You're my drug now."

"Good," I said. "That's exactly what I want to be. Your only addiction."

Hunter dried each of my fingers carefully. "I keep thinking about my parents. How disappointed they'd be. I'm in love with someone who kills for me, and I'm not sorry about it."