The Great Hunt (Eurona Duology, #1)(69)

Aerity stared into the depths of his dark eyes, searching for answers. “I think you underestimate me, hunter. But I cannot stop you if you choose to go. I can only tell you with all honesty that I wish you would stay.”

As she moved closer, she swore she felt Paxton soften, though his face remained impassive. She moved closer still, fully expecting him to back away, but he didn’t.

“I must leave today,” he said in a low voice.

Aerity, knowing this could be the last time she saw him, went up on the tips of her toes and placed her lips against his. She watched as his eyes fluttered closed. When he didn’t stop her or push her away, she brought her hands up around his neck and pulled herself higher, tasting the fullness of his salty lips, like the seas.

“Princess,” he whispered in a guttural tone against her lips. “You don’t know what you do.”

“I do know, hunter. I know exactly what I do.”

His head pulled back and his eyes bore into hers, filled with a mix of punishment, anger, and desire. “You’ve no clue who I am.”

Her skin pebbled with gooseflesh at a sense of foreboding. “Then tell me. Who are you, Paxton Seabolt?”

He slowly took her wrist from around his neck with his good hand and moved his bloodied, dirtied hand to the edge of the bucket, nodding toward it. He watched her, inviting her to wash him now. Aerity, flustered by the intensity in his eyes, as if he were inexplicably daring her to do this, reached into the bucket with a shaking hand and began to wash his wrist and top of his tightly fisted hand. She gently turned his hand and coaxed open his fingers, dunking his open palm into the water. He didn’t flinch, but it had to hurt as she gingerly wiped away the grime to reveal a gaping slash in the middle of his palm. Blood seeped out, coloring the water in swirls of red.

Aerity wound the cloth around his palm and set to cleaning the caked-on dirt from his fingers with her bare hands. When Paxton tensed, Aerity glanced at him. His jaw was set in hard lines as he watched her work.

She gently continued, trying not to cause him further pain, using her small nails to scrape away the dirt edged into his cuticles. The bit at the very bottom was particularly difficult. She splashed more water on his fingers and rubbed again, staring, then scratched harder, pushing at the dirt, willing it to budge. But it was too straight, too uniform, too smooth.

Her stomach dropped. She looked at his next finger, and the next. All the same.

It wasn’t dirt at all.

Aerity went still as she stared at the purpled lines. She stood still, but the room seemed to be moving. For a moment she forgot to breathe. She couldn’t look at Paxton’s face, but she could hear his quickened breaths close to her ear. In a moment of denial, Aerity scratched lastly at his thumbnail, only to reveal another line.

Almighty seas . . . Aerity felt a sob rising up inside her as the truth flooded her system.

“Paxton . . .”

“Now you know.” His voice was resigned. “Now you can let me be.”

But she couldn’t. She knew he had not received those lashings from hurting another person, unless perhaps it was self-defense. No matter his outer temper, she had always sensed the man underneath this secret—a secret massive enough to warrant his anger and hurt. Aerity knew in her gut that he would have only used his power as a last resort.

He remained so still beside her, allowing her to keep his hand in her own.

Truth and understanding continued to pour over Aerity in a heavy wash. Stories cartwheeled through her mind—Lashed being persecuted and abused, rounded up and killed out of fear. She had studied the history of the Lashed in great detail. The thought of anyone seeing his hands in this state, of anyone trying to kill him, filled her with a fierce protectiveness. She held his hand tighter.

He could have chosen not to reveal this to her. Aerity felt certain that Paxton did not share his true identity lightly. In fact, he’d probably done it to scare her away, and at great risk to himself. Well, it hadn’t worked, because she wasn’t scared of him. If he’d intended to put a greater gap between them, he’d only succeeded in making her feel closer. Her heart filled with empathy.

Words would not do at this moment.

Aerity turned and their eyes caught. He stared at her as if wading through thorns, searching, waiting for what harsh word or sharp accusation might come from her lips.

The princess rose to her toes again, circling his neck with her wet hands, and pressing her mouth against his. He jolted in surprise before reacting. This time, he did not remain still.

Paxton’s free hand rounded her waist and pulled her body firmly against his. His mouth took over, his lips moving against hers in a heated rush of ownership that caused her entire body to react.

He growled against her lips. “Will you never cease to surprise me?”

Aerity was overwhelmed and could only cling to him, her eyes stinging with emotion as she soaked in all he’d held back, all he’d tried to keep hidden. She hadn’t been a fool after all—he’d felt this thing between them as much as she had.

Distant footsteps and voices sounded down the stone hall, and Paxton stepped away, rubbing his stubbled jaw with his uninjured hand. Aerity felt cold as she dropped her arms to her sides, except her mouth, which still burned. Paxton moved closer to the bucket, over which his injured hand hovered, the cloth now stained red.

“You should go,” he said.