30. Annalise
Chapter thirty
Annalise
I’m just wrapping my wet hair from my shower in a towel when Korr slams the door behind him harder than he probably means to, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, “That root came out of nowhere.”
He’s back early, and I’m halfway down the hall before I even take in the rest of him— covered in sweat and mud, a few pine needles poking out of his hair, and a line of blood running from his cheekbone to the edge of his jaw.
“Hunter!” My voice pitches high, “What happened?”
He lifts a hand, waving off my panic. “Nothing, it’s just a scrape. I slipped like an idiot, and embarrassingly, the ground won.”
“You’re joking, right? That needs stitches,” I say immediately.
“That bad?” he asks, stupidly hopeful that I’ll say no.
“It’s literally wide open.”
His shoulders drop in defeat. “Great, can’t wait to hang out with all of the hungover recruits in the infirmary puking out their celebration drinks and trying to get hangover tonics from the healers.”
I let out a little laugh. “You can't really be that thick-headed," I say, shaking my head. "We both know I have plenty of experience doing stitches, and I know you have a medical bag, so just let me do it.”
I watch the debate play across his face—stubbornness, pride, practicality—before he finally exhales. “Fine. But I’m trusting you. Don’t use this as an excuse to stab me for that overcooked burger or anything.”
Dragging him to the kitchen where the lighting is best, I point to the stool at the breakfast bar, "Sit." He obeys instantly, though I don’t miss him grumbling under his breath about not taking orders.
"Annalise—" he begins to protest, but shuts up immediately when my expression dares him to try arguing, before I walk out to get the med kit.
Coming back into the room a minute later, he's still whispering to himself—now about me or his injury, I'm not sure. Either way, I don't care because he's still sitting in the exact spot I told him to. Maybe he's trainable after all.
"At least I'm not the only one you think of as a dog."
"All men are dogs. Now let me concentrate."
Straddling Hunter's knees to get the right angle, our proximity hits me at the same moment it hits him—his breath catching, just once. Quiet, but unmistakable, as it mirrors my own.
“Hold still, this is going to sting a bit,” I murmur, trying to hide my blush as I try to focus on cleaning his wound.
He doesn’t flinch, not even a twitch, but his eyes follow every movement of my hands.
The first few stitches slide in smoothly. When I finish the fifth, without thinking, I blow gently across the skin to ease the sting before gently kissing his wound the same way Mattey has always kissed mine.
I freeze when I realize what I have just done, but he doesn’t.
Instantly his hand comes up, fingers curling lightly around the back of my neck, and drawing me forward until we’re just an inch away from kissing. Only then does he pause.
It’s a question, a choice. An acknowledgment that I still have the power in this situation.
I close the gap before I can think better of it.
The kiss starts slow, testing, but it shifts quickly—heat sparking, deepening—his hand sliding to the side of my jaw, the pressure of his hold steady and certain.
His mouth is still warm on mine when a memory slams into me—the one that stopped this whole mess from happening months ago.
“Oh gods,” I blurt, my hands shooting up to cover my face. “I just kissed you. The picture—I’m a terrible person. I shouldn’t—this was—Hunter, I shouldn’t even be staying here anymore!”
Korr blinks, confused. “What? Why not? Which picture?”
“The one in your office,” I say, gesturing vaguely toward the front of the house like that helps. “That day in your office, I saw the photo of you with your gorgeous girlfriend wrapped around you!"
I start to pull away, but he’s still holding me.
Realization dawns on his face. And then—is that fucking amusement?
“You mean the one by the window?” he asks.
“Yes, Hunter! The only photo with a gorgeous woman in it…perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect—everything.”
“Seiri—”
“Of course, she has a beautiful name too! I’m the worst person ever—"
“No. Annalise. Stop.” He snorts. Actually fucking snorts.
“That’s Rory…my baby sister...And I’m not sure if she’s going to be more excited that you think she’s so gorgeous or disgusted that you thought we were dating, but she was wrapped around me like a koala because I'd just gotten home from an eight-month deployment.”
“Oh.” My mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “Well. Uhm. That’s…important information.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb across my cheek, leaning in until our noses nearly touch. “Are you ready for another piece of important information?”
“No? Not really," I admit sheepishly.
His laugh is soft, and just that change of disposition has me on edge for what he'll say next.
“Well, too bad, because I'm going to tell you anyway…
"You are the only woman I've thought of since you walked into the arena.
" Gently, his hands slide to my ribs, rubbing soft, slow circles against my oversized shirt.
"I can't take my eyes off you laughing with your friends in class, or keep from being enthralled by the beautiful look on your face every time you push yourself on the obstacle course and beat your own record. "
Heat creeps up my neck as the part of me that's never been good at taking compliments rears its' ugly head.
"Your smile is intoxicating," he says, gentler now. "And I've spent far too many nights envisioning a world where I'd be the bastard lucky enough to hold you. You consume my every dream and haunt the days I don't get to see you."
My chest tightens.
"Hunt—"
“Annalise,” he interrupts gently, but there’s steel under it. “Tell me you don't feel the same way, and I'll leave you alone. I’ll move you into Reyes's room right now. But—if you want me the way I want you…then be with me."
I know he just explained everything, but still, I hesitate. I’ve spent too many months thinking he has a girlfriend, and I still feel like I’m doing something wrong.
“I promise that there’s no one else," he continues. "No secret girlfriend. No almost-something. It’s just me—and you are the only person I’ve thought about this entire year."
“You…thought about me?”
“You really haven’t noticed?” he asks, eyebrow raised.
“I take every chance I can get to come home during the day so I can see you. Tease you. Listen to all the random shit that pops into your head. Hearing you had a boyfriend forced me to restrain myself, but it’s been almost impossible to stay professional since I heard your friends talking about your breakup in class… and then you were moving in...”
His voice trails off, but his hands haven’t moved, still warm and steady against my sides.
He doesn't pull me closer.
Doesn't push for a response.
Just waits, giving me time to work through my own thoughts.
“You make it sound so simple,” I whisper.
His mouth curves slightly. “This part is simple.”
I shake my head slowly. “No. It isn’t.”
Because wanting him is easy. I wanted him before the attack; hell, I wanted him before my ex, and the Gods only know I've wanted him after.
Yeah, giving into this would be too easy, but the hard part is everything else.
“You’re an instructor,” I say quietly. “You may not teach me anymore, but if anyone found out…"
His jaw flexes, but still he doesn’t move.
“…if this goes wrong,” I continue, my voice softer now, “it doesn’t just break my heart. It destroys my career and yours.”
Hunter studies me like he’s memorizing every word before leaning down slightly, bringing us eye to eye.
“Seiri,” he says quietly.
My stomach flips at the nickname.
“I asked you one question.” His thumb brushes once against my side before going still again. “Do you want me?”
Just that.
No more speeches or promises.
The truth sits right there in my chest, heavy and impossible to ignore as my throat tightens around one simple word.
“Yes,” I say, confident and more sure of my decision than I have been in months. “I want to see where this might go.”
His breath hitches; dimples I never knew he had pop with his smile. "Thank the gods. Now, I'm going to get back to where we left off on that kiss, and then we're going to talk about the rest later, okay?"
His calm certainty soothes me; the last sliver of hesitation melts with those words. I don't waste another second, pressing my lips against his as he meets me with the kind of hunger that screams of months of starvation, and Gods, am I here for it.