"The very first," Hunter replied.
The truth hit her even before she glanced up at him and saw the bleakness in his handsome face. This wasn't merely any aged lab record recovered from the beginnings of Dragos's twisted breeding operation ... it was Hunter's own.
Her breath caught, uncertain what to expect, Corinne flipped farther into the ledger. Not quite a quarter in, she randomly settled on one of the many entries.
Subject: Year 4Report: Performs at top levels of education and physical training; tests in excess of 50 points above other 5 Hunters currently in program
It came as no surprise to her that
Hunter would excel in whatever he did, even at so young an age. Some of the air she'd been holding in her lungs eased out now, and she turned to another entry farther in the ledger. Subject: Year 5Report: Initial conditioning completed; subject removed from lab to individual cell off-site; habitation and discipline to be monitored by assigned Minion handler She
flipped some more pages.
Subject: Year 8Report: Physical and mental fitness exceeds testing expectations; concepts and practice of various stealth execution techniques mastered; handler recommends advancing subject to live target training A number of later entries, recorded in apparent close sequence to the one that had Corinne's blood running cold in her veins:
Subject: Year 8Report: First kill; training tested in field situation against human quarry (no contest)
Report: Successful kill of civilian Breed adolescent; methods employed: hand-to-hand and short blades (subject and quarry equally armed)
Report: Successful kill of civilian Breed adult; method employed: hand-to-hand, short/long blades (subject unarmed; pursuit and capture techniques outstanding, efficient use of environment and training in execution of quarry)
The coldness she'd felt a moment ago was
ice now, a sickness rising within her when she considered the evil that would bend a child into becoming the kind of soulless monster Dragos seemed determined to have at his command. She glanced up at the stoic Gen One male - the hard-trained assassin who had somehow become her friend and lover - and she found no fear or disdain for what he had been forced to become. She cared about him, deeply.
She didn't have to search very far inside her heart to realize that she loved him. With emotion stinging her eyes and the back of her throat, she turned a few more dreaded pages.
Subject: Year 9Report: Handler notes alarming rise in subject inquisitiveness; frequent questions about purpose in life, personal origin
Report: Subject found hoarding books in cell; random volumes of fiction, biography, philosophy, poetry stolen from handler quarters This particular entry had a further notation beneath it, scribbled by a furious hand.
Determination: Restrict access to reading material other than program-approved manuals, technical and training booksAction: Handler instructed to remove contraband from cell and order subject to destroy itConsider: Rebellion to be anticipated as limiting factor as program continues. Subjects are highly intelligent, natural-born predators and conquerors. Discipline alone may not be enough to keep them submissive. Process Improvement: Task technology staff with providing means of ensuring subject obedience and loyalty within the Hunter program Corinne closed the ledger and moved up next to Hunter.
She was speechless, overcome with sorrow for the boy who'd never been given the chance to be a child and humbled by the man who had come through such a lonely, lightless hell and still had the capacity for gentleness and honor.
She took his face in her hands and tenderly turned him to look at her. "You are a good man, Hunter. You are so much more than what Dragos meant for you to be. You are better than the sum of your past. You must know that, don't you?"
He drew out of her grasp, scowling, shaking his head. "I killed her."
The words were spoken quietly, a simple, horrific statement of fact. "What are you talking about?"
"It's all in there," he said, gesturing to the awful ledger in her lap. Although she hated to see what other ugliness she'd find in Hunter's early years, he had obviously read the entire thing from front to back. She picked it up again and flipped past the first page. This time, she went slower, reading through the details of his birth and the weeks and months afterward, when he - unlike her own son - had been allowed to feed from his mother's vein and not from the strangers who had ostensibly nourished Nathan when she was denied even that small gift.>It was simply what they did, what they'd been born to do: destroy without mercy or regret, without questioning if there was something more for them in another place. No basis from which to crave anything but what they already knew.
Hunter knew that world.
He'd navigated it without flaw for as long as he could remember.
And he damn well knew better than to permit himself to imagine pointless scenarios, especially those where he was tempted to paint himself a hero. A white knight of some improbable legend, pledged to ride to the salvation of the beautiful damsel in need, like the ones he'd read about ages ago ... before his Minion handler had removed all the books from his meager quarters at the Vermont farmhouse and forced him to watch them burn. He was no one's hero, no matter how much this time alone with Corinne was making him wish he could be.
Part of that longing was his blood bond to her. She was inside him now, her cells nourishing his, weaving a visceral connection that would likely amplify all of his feelings toward her. At least, that's what his reason insisted it was.
Better a physiological explanation than the more disturbing one that had been battering around in his head - and in the center of his chest - since the few private moments he'd spent holding Corinne in his arms, dancing with her on the worn yellow linoleum of Amelie Dupree's tiny kitchen.
If he could have stretched that moment out forever, he would have. Without hesitation, he would have been content simply to hold Corinne in his arms for as long as she'd have let him. He yearned to, even now, after they'd finished straightening the kitchen together then gone to bed and made love slowly.
The banging in his chest only intensified at the thought, all the worse when he could smell her on his skin and taste her on his tongue. He wanted to wake her and show her more pleasure. He wanted to hear her gasp his name as she wept with sexual release and clung to him as though he were the only male she ever wanted in her bed.
Madly, yet with a ferocity he could hardly reconcile, he wanted to hear her promise him he was the only male she might ever love.