The Soul Stealer (19 page)

H
unter stopped time as he looked at his beautiful girl by slowing everything down in his head and breaking it down second by second. Malia looked at him with wide eyes. It was almost like his dream: she was disheveled in bed, and he wanted her more than he could stand to admit. Yet in his dream, he had made love to her as any man makes love to his woman, and then he confessed everything. And she had loved him anyway! That was the best part of the dream. He’d felt loved and accepted for the first time in his life, and more than that he’d felt safe. Hunter had never felt safe, not when he was growing up, and not as an adult in his world. It was a new and welcome sensation.

But it was no longer a dream, and he couldn’t be honest with her. What would she do if she saw him in his true physical form? No doubt, Malia would turn from him, as every human had, except his father. Hunter couldn’t bear the thought of her disgust, especially since the bonding hadn’t worked on some level, and she probably could get away from him. Although they were now chemically bound down to their DNA, his power didn’t seem to be transformed, so he knew their souls were not completely fused. His magic hadn’t worked. It was frustrating not to have the power he craved.

All he had to do was make one swift move toward her jugular vein with the dagger to ensure the prize was his completely. He had killed so many times before, why should this time be any different? Hunter sighed and looked into her eyes. It would break his heart if Malia died, even if his magical powers increased as a result. The thought of how easily he could obtain what she so innocently possessed did tempt him, though. If she only knew how close to death she was every time he was near.

He had almost done it out on the trail when she was hiking with Max. His courage was up, and he planned to come up behind her before she realized what was happening. He couldn’t get even close to making that move without his emotions getting in the way. And then Max had sniffed out a wild boar that terrified everyone with its charge toward Malia. Hunter had almost intervened to stop the animal, but he quickly realized Malia could handle herself on the trail. He had been impressed with her instincts to flee that day.

“You want me to do what?” Malia asked Hunter. He looked sort of frozen, so she closed her eyes and shook her head, thinking heavy sleep had made her hallucinate. Things seemed to be moving out of sync and time seemed to be floating instead of passing. But when she looked again, Malia realized she wasn’t hallucinating because Hunter still held out the dagger as he sat on the bed by her side. His shirt was off, revealing his muscled body and flawless skin.

“I’d do it myself, but I can’t reach that part of my back. Well, it’s my shoulder, really,” he said, practically putting the dagger in her hand.

She had no intention of digging into Hunter’s back with that thing.

“If we don’t get the microchip out from under my skin, he’ll know exactly where we’re going, so it has to be cut out. It’s not that deep. It’s just under the surface on the back of my shoulder.” Hunter twisted around so his back was to her, and he pointed to the spot. “Feel it. It’s just a small lump.”

Malia ran her fingers over the spot and felt the small, hard disc under the skin on his upper back. She couldn’t believe it. “Your father had you microchipped?”

“He’s a bit controlling, especially where I’m concerned,” Hunter said with an empty laugh. “And we’ll never get away from him with that in my back. He can track us with it. You have to do it, my love.”

Malia swallowed hard and took the dagger with some reluctance.

“Just be careful,” Hunter said as he turned around to face her. “As soon as you touch my skin with the tip, it will activate and the blade will turn bright green, which means you’ll barely have to press at all. The heat from the liquid metal will sear me without much force on your part.”

Malia shot him a look of fear. The thought of marring Hunter’s beautiful skin and leaving a lasting scar made her heart skip, but then a question came to mind. “How did your father have you microchipped without it leaving a scar?”

“Except for the mark over my heart that went soul deep, I don’t scar,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if it weren’t unusual. “Now, back to the dagger. You really can’t hurt me, but just don’t press too hard, or there will be a lot of blood.”

“What do you mean you don’t scar? Why wouldn’t you scar?”

Hunter took a deep breath and leveled a calm look at her. “I just don’t. Can we leave it at that for now?”

“You fly, you don’t scar. Are you even human? You need to tell me if you’re some sort of superhero, because I think I should be warned if my soul mate is going to fly around saving people, or something.” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice as she looked down at the dagger and tried to get her courage up enough to put it in the palm of her hand. Hunter’s stillness made her realize she’d said something wrong. She glanced up in time to see the hurt in his eyes before he looked away. “Oh shit, you’re a superhero?”

His shoulders started to shake with silent laughter, but Hunter still looked away from her, so Malia put her hand on his arm. When he looked at her, there were tears in his eyes, even though he had a smile on his face. “I’m no sort of hero,” he said in a melancholy voice. “But I am a mix of breeds. My father and mother didn’t have the same kind of blood in their veins.”

Malia wasn’t sure what he was trying to tell her and looked at him with curiosity.

“I’m half/half. On one side, I’m definitely a Blackthorne and my father’s son, but on my mother’s side, I’m not. . . well, her race is entirely different. . . magical, really, which is where I get it from. It’s, just that . . . .” Hunter’s voice trailed off and his dark brows went together. He looked away, not elaborating any further.

Malia had an idea of what he might be trying to say but was probably afraid of how she might react. “It’s called
hapa
in Hawaiian, which means half, and it’s used to indicate someone who is half white and half something else. It’s what these islands are made of: people who are part Hawaiian and part Caucasian, or Japanese, or Chinese, whatever. Do you think I care that you have mixed blood? Hell, I can’t even tell you exactly what my own ethnic background is, especially now that I know my mother wasn’t from my own reality. So why would I care if you have different ethnicities in you? We’re both a mix of races. It just makes us more interesting human beings.”

Hunter sighed and leaned against her a little. He flashed his gorgeous smile.

“Are you afraid I’d be prejudiced against you? That’d be pretty hypocritical, don’t you think?” Malia cuddled up to his back and put her arms around him, unable to resist touching his smooth skin and smelling his soft hair.

“Yes, I am afraid of that,” he said, turning his face away from her. “I’ve lived with prejudice all my life because of what I am. I’m used to being the outsider, but it would kill me if you felt that way.”

“Sounds like people are pretty harsh where you’re from.”

“It’s a technically advanced, primitive, and brutal place. And, yes, people are very prejudiced against someone who is different.”

Malia moved around so she could see Hunter’s face. The pain in his eyes struck her like a blow to the chest. She put her hands on his cheeks and touched her forehead to his, wanting to take away his sorrow, wishing she could free him of his pain. “I’m sorry you have suffered because of the narrow-minded stupidity of others, and I promise you I will never turn away from you because of your racial mix. That would be ludicrous to even consider—never because of that.”

Hunter put his strong arms around her and hugged her tightly. “I hope you can live up to that promise,” he whispered in her ear. “What if I told you my mother wasn’t. . . .” His voice trailed into nothing.

“Wasn’t what?” Malia pulled away from his embrace so she could look in his eyes.

Hunter met her gaze with his eyes of violet pools. The pain in them turned to doubt, and then his duplicitous nature kicked in, and he wiped his emotions from every line. “Nothing,” he said. “We can talk about it later. Let’s get the task at hand over with first so my father can’t find us. There’s time enough to go into both our family histories once we’re free of him.”

Malia looked back down at the dagger with dread.

“Just pick it up and do it,” Hunter commanded. He turned his back toward her again, but twisted his head around, trying to keep his eyes on her.

Malia took the ivory handle in her hand and made sure she had a good grip on it before bringing it up to Hunter’s shoulder. “I need better light to do this. Let’s go into the bathroom,” she said.

Malia got out of bed and walked into the bathroom with Hunter close behind. She motioned for him to sit on the closed toilet seat. She glanced at the tile floor and noticed it looked exceptionally clean. So, she spread an old towel around their feet before proceeding, not wanting blood to stain the grout. She had spent too much energy scrubbing it over the years.

She stood with dagger in hand, poised to cut into Hunter. “I expect a huge rock as payment for doing this,” she said, trying to steady her shaking hand. Now was the time to get everything out in the open. If their souls were married, their bodies should be, too.

“A rock? What kind of rock?”

“You know, an engagement ring—symbol of our bright future and everlasting love, and all that.”

“Ahhh, yes.”

“I want a big one. You owe it to me for this alone.”

Hunter chuckled. “You shall have your big rock, beautiful girl.”

“And you can’t steal it, or anything. You have to come by it in an honorable way. I’d say you have to buy it, but you’d just steal the money to do that.”

“Fair enough,” Hunter agreed with a nod.

Malia took another deep breath to steady her hand and then pressed the tip of the dagger to the rim of the lump in his shoulder. Immediately the blade turned to a liquid green fire that seemed to melt into Hunter’s skin. He flinched but stayed still, giving Malia the confidence to make an arc around half of the disc-shaped lump. The incision would surely leave a half-moon scar. There was no way it couldn’t.

Much to Malia’s relief, his blood dripped out of the cut, instead of squirting. Once the incision was made, she put the dagger in the sink and then pushed on the side of the lump away from the incision, making the disc move toward the opening. Hunter held his breath and gritted his teeth. Before long the disc edged out of the open wound. She took tweezers out of the medicine cabinet and pulled it all the way out. She dropped the microchip in the sink and pressed a wad of alcohol-soaked cotton against the incision to stop the bleeding. Hunter let out his breath with an audible sigh.

“I knew you could do it,” he said with a smile.

“You should get a stitch or two there, but I’m not doing that.” Malia still pressed the wound with cotton, which was becoming a bloody ball.

“It will be fine. You’ll see. By tomorrow it’ll be almost healed. Just put some sort of bandage on it for now.”

“Right,” she said with skepticism. She got out gauze squares and white bandage tape from the medicine cabinet and made a patch over the incision, hoping it wouldn’t get too soaked with blood during the night.

Hunter bent over the sink, staring at the microchip. He picked it up with the bloody tweezers and held it up to the light. “What to do with you?”

“Just throw it in the trash. Eventually the truck will pick it up and take it to the other side of the island.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Hunter said, still looking at the small disc. “But it needs to move around, so Father doesn’t get suspicious. And I can’t take it somewhere that’s too far away, because they know I will be on this island as long as you are. And it might come in handy when we’re ready to leave.” Hunter put it on the countertop next to the sink. “I’m starving. I’ll start something for dinner. I think you still have some pasta and sauce in the pantry,” he said with enthusiasm.

Malia watched him leave as she cleaned up the mess they created in the bathroom. As he walked down the hall, he didn’t seem to be suffering from her amateur surgery much. Her body yearned to be near him, have him within her sight at all times.

She cautiously picked up the dagger from the sink and set it aside, but didn’t want to even try to wash off the blood. She threw all the bloody gauze into the trash and put the boxes and containers back in the medicine cabinet. She rinsed out the porcelain sink with warm water and watched as the red, bloody water seeped down the drain.

Malia glanced at the dagger as she walked to the doorway. Something made her stop. She turned and went back to where it sat on the counter, still bloody.
Odd,
she thought, staring at the dagger. The blood on the blade had crystallized into red, sparkly glitter. She touched her finger to it, only to have some of it fall away from the knife in glittery specks. She picked up the dagger and walked to the kitchen, keeping her eyes on the specks of glitter.

“Look,” Malia said to Hunter, holding out the dagger. He was putting a pot of water on the stove to boil pasta. “The knife made your blood turn to red glitter. What kind of metal is this?”

Hunter held the pot in midair over the stove and froze for a moment before setting it down and turning on the burner. His eyes went to the knife she held out to him and then to her face. She could see he was deciding what to say.

“What is it?”

Hunter took the dagger from her hand and went to the sink, turning his back on her. “It’s a type of metal that hasn’t been discovered here yet, and if this got in the wrong hands it could drastically change things. With this technology, weapons could be created that go way beyond anything anyone in this world has imagined. It’s dangerous.” He washed the knife in the sink.

“Why?”

“It turns to liquid fire and goes through any substance, even lead. There’s nothing it can’t destroy, especially flesh,” he said in a serious tone.

“And it crystallizes blood? Is that why there is never any blood left at the scene of the beheadings?”