but easing the intensity of the delivery. “Demons aren't as bad as Angels make them out to be. I know you weren't able to see for yourself, but they aren't the crazed, mindless beasts of violence that most say they are. They're just different.”
“You ran,” Trace interjected, still looking away. The ache in those words cut through me, slicing into my gut as much as the emotions that came with them.
I licked my lips and stood, taking slow steps towards him. “I did.”
“You hid,” he whispered.
I laid my palm on his head, and a torrent of relief washed through me. Apparently, I'd expected him to jerk away from my touch, but he leaned towards me instead.
“I did,” I said as I slipped my hand beneath his chin and tugged until he looked up at me. “I didn't know who was running towards me. I didn't know your motivations or your intent. For all I knew, you were on their side.”
He shook his head but didn't say anything as I squatted down, scooting myself between his legs. His eyes closed, but I squeezed his thighs until they popped open again.
“If I'd known you in your Demon form, I would have run towards you, Trace. I would have put my back to yours, ready to kill them all.”
His eyes searched mine, and nothing else mattered. I allowed him to see the truth inside of me—he might annoy me to no end, but I still trusted him, no matter what form he took.
That he'd hidden it hurt, but I understood. We all had secrets within us, and we all deserved to decide who we entrusted with those secrets.
Finally, he began nodding, slowly at first, then harder until he jerked me against him, burying his face in my hair. The room remained silent until he pulled away, his cheeks glistening beneath the light.
“So, I guess that's one way to reveal it,” Kian mused.
“Shut up,” Trace spat. “I've seen you practicing.”
I twisted to stare at Kian. His face had turned grey, and he looked away.
“Practicing what?” I asked.
“No, this isn't about me,” he chastised, shaking his head. “We're talking about this fight.”
“Right. Let's get back to that,” Axton ordered before mumbling something about how unprofessional they were.
My gaze lingered on Kian, who refused to look at me, but I recited the account of the fight and ignored Grace's little gasps when I spoke of the harsher moments.
When I finished, silence reigned again until Grace finally asked, “You killed him?”
I shrugged. “Probably. When I yank that hard, it does a lot of damage to other parts of the brain. That's one reason Harvesters are so coveted. We can do far more than anyone knows.”
I shut my mouth before I said anything more and refused to answer Axton when he hinted at the inevitable question of what else we could do. If he learned I could puppet him through the Mark, he would wonder things that weren't true. If I revealed the rest… No, some things were better off as secrets.
Chapter Fifty-Five
After we ate a rather tasty stew, I took a brief shower. When I exited the bathroom, a hand flashed in front of me, and I leaned back just in time. My hand darted out, clamping on the black-covered wrist.
"Lost again," I chirped brightly as I stepped forward, grinning.
Axton groaned. "I'll get you eventually."
My grin widened, and I gave him a quick peck on the lips before retorting, "It's kind of cute you believe that."
"I know." He winked, then shed the playful side of himself as though it were a cloak he could slip on and off. He lowered his voice to a whisper and said, "I need to talk to you for a moment—alone."
I nodded, pulling him to my room and closing the door behind him once he entered. Axton sat on my bed, leaning back on his palms while watching me search for a brush. Why can't I ever seem to find the stupid thing? I always put it in the same place, don't I?
I tossed things here and there, rifled through the pile of dirty clothes, and searched drawers without any luck. Finally, Axton cleared his throat, and when I turned to look at him, he pointed to the table by the bed.
There—in plain sight—lay the object I'd been tearing my room apart for. I scowled at him, my eyes narrowing further when a smirk appeared on his lips, and stomped over to snatch it up.
As I yanked it through my tangled locks,