AllFreeNovel
Share Us
An unholy scream left her, something made of pure agony, just before she dissipated. Not like fading out of existence, but as if whatever Hunter did had devoured her.
When she was gone, when even that electric sensation I got from her being around faded away, only then did Hunter roll his shoulders and put his hand down.
He twisted, and I jerked my gaze up. It had to say something about how unnerved I felt when I didn’t feel the urge to ogle even a little.
The sound of terror Melinda had let out, the way those tattoos had moved around, as though made up by that smoke, the fact a man could look and act as casual as Hunter and dothatmade me suddenly not care what his dick looked like.
He crouched then grasped my chin and lifted my head, staring at my neck. A slighttsksaid he didn’t care for the marks. “She almost killed you. I don’t think even you can outrun death.”
When I tried to speak, the words came out hoarse and rough, but at least I could talk. “Whatareyou?”
“The person who saved you. Isn’t that a good enough answer?”
I pressed my lips together—no, it really wasn’t—but he only lifted me against his chest as though it took no effort at all. All that warm skin made me realize that my whole ‘not interested in his dick’ stance hadn’t lasted long, especially as he walked up the stairs carrying me.
What he was really didn’t matter, did it?
It wasn’t until I lowered myself onto the bed that I realized just how much I hurt. As it turned out, getting tossed around by a poltergeist wasn’t something I could just brush off.
Really, there were far better ways to have fun if someone was going to get bruised up.
Hunter walked in, a cup in his hands, and a few of those things came to mind.
Getting thrown around by him wouldn’t be so bad.
Really? You are twisted.
Somehow, even though he’d dressed again, I couldn’t wipe away the memory of how he’d looked naked. It seemed entirely unfair that a man could look that good.
He wasn’t a man though, was he? I suppose a supernatural metabolism could do wonders for the physique.
He sat on the bed on my side, since I was up against the headboard, and handed me the cup.
I took one glance inside and curled my lip. “I hate tea.”
“Why do you have so much of it, then?”
I shrugged, not willing to explain my forever falling short attempts at healthy living.
He chuckled and nodded at the drink. “Have it anyway. It’ll help you feel better.”
“Did you do something weird to it?”
“Just honey. It should soothe your throat.”
I sipped the tea and…amazingly it wasn’t bad. Then again, the almost sickly sweetness of it said he’d put a hell of a lot of honey in it. Enough sugar in anything could make it good.
Sure enough, after I swallowed the hot liquid, the burning ache of my throat seemed to ease.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” I whispered.
“Poltergeists are nasty creatures. They don’t follow a lot of ‘shoulds’.”
I shook my head. “Melinda shouldn’t have turned into one. Sure, she was a raging bitch, and I had my money on her resisting until she ended up in purgatory, but a poltergeist?” I sighed and rested my cup on my folded legs. “Melinda wasn’t the type. She wasn’t strong enough. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Sometimes there isn’t an explanation. I know shit seems less scary when it all makes sense, when it follows clear-cut rules, but that isn’t how life—or death—works. Sometimes shit happens. Sometimes someone is born weird”—he gave me a meaningful look—“and sometimes someone who shouldn’t have become a poltergeist does. Trying to make sense of it all will only drive you crazy.”
I sighed when I couldn’t argue. Wasn’t that part of what I’d learned over my life? Shit didn’t make sense. Why did I get tossed away by my family? Why was I born like I was instead of like everyone else? The truth was that clinging to what should have been never helped anyone. It had only prolonged the pain.
