Damnable Grace (Hades Hangmen 5)

“You’re blushing again,” he teased, his lips scraping past my earlobe.

“I . . . I am remembering,” I confessed breathlessly. I allowed my mind to show me what came next. I had climbed on his lap and ridden him, slowly, back and forth, his hands roaming over my behind and thighs.

“Yeah?” AK growled.

“You and me,” I said. “Outside your home.” I turned my head until my lips brushed against his. I breathed and he breathed, sharing the same air, warm, then hot. “You took me.”

My chest was rising and falling in hard movements. AK chuckled into my mouth and licked along the seam of my lips with his tongue. I groaned at the feel, my breasts aching. “No, bitch.” Heat flooded my core as he said, “You fucking took me.”

AK dragged his nose along my cheek, and then carefully turned me back to face the trees. His hand guided my head downward until my eyes were looking through a lens on the top of the gun. His torso was flush against my back. I felt him everywhere. Within me, behind me, my senses breaching their capacity.

“Concentrate,” he ordered again. My back straightened as I tried to do as he asked. I blinked, seeing the tree targets up close through the lens. Taking my hand from the trigger, he brought it to a small black switch on the side of the gun. “Safety.” He pulled my hand back. The gun clicked, and he guided me back to the trigger. “Line up the cross in the lens with the bullseye—the center point—on the target. Wait until your hand is steady and take the shot.” I did as he said, then felt his hand tighten on my finger on the trigger. I let calmness run through me. “When you’re ready, pull the trigger.”

I counted to three and pulled down on the trigger. The loud bang of the bullet flying from the barrel caused birds to scatter into the sky around us. But I barely noticed due to the sudden pain in my shoulder. I stumbled back, and AK wrapped his thick arms around me to stop me falling. I gasped as I tried to breathe. “Welcome to the kickback,” he said and laughed dryly.

I blinked my sight back into focus, then looked straight ahead. I saw a bullet mark in the first tree, the one closest to where we stood. A laugh pealed from my throat when I saw that I had not hit the intended target—rather, I had taken a chunk out of the wood of the tree. The laugh poured from my throat, and water built in my eyes. I held the gun close to me as I tried to gain composure, but it was no use. I had not laughed like this in . . . I was not sure I ever had.

“Phebe?” AK asked, but I could hear the lightness in his voice. He relaxed his hold on me, and I turned toward him. He kept his hands braced on my back, as though he was not yet ready to let me go.

“The shot.” I snorted, which only made me laugh harder. “It did not even come close to the target.” I threw my head back as another wave of amusement hit me. My throat and chest ached from my laughter. When I finally managed to calm, I wiped my eyes and looked at AK. He was watching me with his lips pursed. I fell silent. AK stayed unmoving. Just as I was about to ask him what was wrong, he stepped forward and pushed me back against the tree behind us. My back scraped against the rough bark. He took the gun from my hands and threw it to the ground. Then AK’s lips were crushing mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth. I moaned as I tasted him on my tongue, the flavor of him familiar and so very wanted.

His hands ran down my sides and held me still. I felt his hardness against my stomach and heard his low groan, the vibration from his chest ricocheting through mine. My core became wet as he pressed himself against me. Then he broke away, breathless and muscles tense. “You need . . .” He caught his breath. “You need to fucking laugh more, Red. It looks real fucking good on you.”

My hands were shaking as they held his hard biceps. AK stepped back, then back again, ripping the tie from his hair. His dark hair tumbled forward as he picked up the gun from the ground. “Again,” he ordered and handed me back the gun. I wanted to protest. I wanted to leave the gun and bring him back to me, have his tongue and taste in my mouth. But then it occurred to me.

He had stopped.

No man had ever done that before in my life.

“Shoot,” AK said, his voice still thick with need. I lifted the gun and took up the position he had shown me before. He tapped my ankles with the tip of his boot. “Wider. It’ll stop you from falling so bad this time.”

I did as he said, lining up the gun to the target, feeling him beside me once more. And as I shot the bullet out, I smiled at the subtle, intimate touches he used to guide me. I braced for the kickback this time, glad when I firmly held my ground. I looked at the tree. I had chipped the base of the target. “I hit it!”

He gave me a smile, and the sight stole all the air from my lungs. He was so handsome that he caused my heart to ache. “You got closer than before, but you won’t be winning any prizes with that. We’re going again.”

And that was how the day went. At least until I grew too tired and we had to head back to the cabin. AK cooked on the grill while I lounged in a reclining chair. When we had eaten, I was exhausted, the remnants of the drink still stealing my energy. I rested my head against the cushions of the chair, and slipped into sleep.

When I awoke, the sun was setting, the sky streaked with pink and orange. I blinked as I looked around me for AK. He sat in the same spot as he had most days, only this time there were two pairs of black boots in front of him. Both appeared well worn, and both were pitted with dirt. Knowing he had not seen me looking, I was about to ask him to whom those boots belonged when I suddenly caught the expression on his face. It was . . . sad. No, that was not a strong enough word to describe what his face was conveying. It was pain incarnate, a visage racked with such sorrow it made me ache.

I watched from the dark sanctuary of the chair as he took one pair of the boots in his trembling hands. They were the most worn pair of the two. When he pulled them into his chest and closed his eyes, his shoulders shaking, I almost jumped from my seat and ran to him. To comfort him. To make sure he was okay.

But I did not think that would be welcomed. So I let him be. I stayed quiet as he held the boots to his chest for several minutes, before placing them, so painstakingly slowly, on his lap. He reached for a cloth beside him, and I saw the track marks of tears on his cheeks.

Tears of my own blossomed in my eyes. He was such a formidable male, so big and strong, that the sight of him crying was more than I could bear. AK began cleaning the boots in silence. I kept my eyes hooded, eyelids leaden, so he would believe me asleep. He methodically cleaned both pairs of boots until they were gleaming. When they were done, he stared at them for so long that I worried I would have to show I was awake or sleep here all night.

But then AK got to his feet. He glanced over at me, and I quickly shut my eyes. I heard him stepping toward me. I felt him stop beside me and crouch down. I evened out my breathing, trying to keep up the pretense of sleep. Gently, he ran his hand over my hair. His warm breath blew across my skin. Then, shocking me completely, he brushed a gentle kiss on my cheek. Such a chaste, loving gesture. The sweetness of the act set off a swirl of emotions inside me.

Emotions I was not familiar with. Emotions I did not understand.

AK moved away. I cracked my eyes open a fraction and watched as he took both sets of boots in his hands. Slowly, he walked to the front door of the cabin. He bent down and placed one pair of boots on one side of the mat on the floor. Then, more carefully, almost reverently, he placed the second pair down on the opposite side of the mat. He stood and stared down at the boots. They looked so perfectly situated at the door, as though both the occupants lived happily inside the house. AK pushed through the door and shut himself inside. I waited several minutes before I moved. I looked to where he had been sitting and saw all the guns were now clean, as was the trunk. I approached the door.

Crouching down, I stared at the two pairs of boots. I let my fingers graze over the polished leather. They were so clean I could almost see my reflection in the light of the fading sun. The boots were identical in every way, except one pair was

bigger than the other.

They were not both AK’s, I guessed. My eyebrows drew together as I wondered to whom the other pair could have belonged. I heard the sound of a door closing inside the cabin and went inside. AK’s bedroom door was closed. I sat down at the table in case he reappeared. I wanted to be sure he was okay.

But he did not. So I went to bed, unable to get the sight of him hugging the boots out of my mind.

I knew that level of pain he displayed. And I knew how it could rob you of joy.

*****

Two days later, I walked out of my bedroom to see AK wearing jeans, boots and no shirt, waiting for me at the table. “Morning,” I said cautiously, testing if he was still as subdued as he had been yesterday.

“Morning, Red,” he replied, and I felt a weight slip from my shoulders as he called me that name. He pushed a plate of food and a coffee in my direction. “Eat and drink up.” I sat before him and did as he said. When I had finished, he came to my side and held out his hand. Despite my confusion, I let him pull me to my feet.

He pulled me to his bedroom and led me to a closet. He paused before reaching out to open it, his grip on my hand tightening. When I peered inside, I saw a small rack of clothing.

Female clothing.

“Should be about your size,” AK said gruffly. He bent down and picked up a pair of brown boots. “Try these on. I got somewhere I wanna show you today, and you can’t be wearing those sandals.” His shoulders stiffened. “I’m fucking sick of never leaving the grounds of this cabin.”