Page 36 of The Last Hunt

He nods, his mouth tight. “Finding my brother’s killer was actually my first hunt.”

Maeve imagines teenage Aethon leaving his family behind to get revenge on the man who murdered his brother. She can see him clearly in her mind - not looking all that different from when she first met him a few years later when they were both inducted into Two Roses. Whip thin and vicious. Bitingly sarcastic. And so, so angry. But buried beneath it all, aching with grief. Maeve raises a hand to her chest, pressing down over her heart. It’s hard to see the similarities between her and Aethon. In some ways, they’re mirrors for each other.

“What was his name?” she asks.

He gives her a sad smile. “Devan.”

“Devan,” Maeve repeats. It feels right to say Aethon’s brother’s name. Like she’s honoring his memory. “And,” she says slowly. “Your parents?” Half of her doesn’t want to know.

Aethon huffs. “They’re ok. Alive on Freehail. Or at least what’s left of Freehail after Brimstone fucked up our oceans.”

The intense relief that Maeve feels at hearing that Aethon’s parents are alive surprises her. She meets his gaze. He smiles. “So now you know some of my secrets,” he says. “Can I have one of yours?”

“I wasn’t aware this was tit for tat,” Maeve replies, arching a brow.

“Come on, Maeve,” he teases. “Just a little one.” He pulls at a strand of her hair again, twirling it around one finger.

She purses her lips. “Fine. My favorite food is strawberries.”

Aethon shakes his head ruefully and lets his hand slide from her hair over to her shoulder. His thumb brushes against her collarbone. “I guess that’s what I get for asking for a little secret,” he says.

“Exactly.”

“I’ll remember that though,” he says, raising a brow. “Strawberries.” He sighs, and his hand moves to her scar again. He traces it gently, and Maeve feels heated, simmering tension growing between them. She licks her lips. Aethon’s gentle hand on her is something she didn’t know she craved. Simple touch.

This short conversation between them has made Maeve realize how easily she could fall for him. She should stop. She should ask him to sleep in the brig. But she can’t bring herself to do so. If this desire could be resolved with one night of sex, it wouldn’t be this intense. Maeve knows they’re one step away from a cliff.

“Do you have any pain?” he asks. She knows what he’s asking, but it feels like a deeper question than that.

Maeve nods. “Some, if I’ve overexerted myself. It’s still a little tight.”

Aethon’s hand strays down Maeve’s arm. He strokes her almost casually, his fingertips dancing over her skin. The tension between them feels pulled tight, and Maeve can barely breathe.

“What are you doing?” she whispers.

Aethon doesn’t reply right away. He just moves his hand up her arm again, tracing her scar. He leans down slowly and then presses a kiss to her shoulder. His lips are warm on her skin, and she can smell lavender in his hair from her shampoo. Arousal blooms in her chest. He leans back and meets her gaze, his eyes hard.

“I hate that he hurt you,” Aethon says. “And I hate that I wasn’t there.”

“Why would you have been there?” she asks, shrugging. “There’s nothing between us.” Even as she says them, she knows her words are a lie. The thrum of her pulse betrays her. She has an urge to lean forward and kiss him. Maeve feels desperate - like all her carefully constructed fierceness is unraveling in the face of Aethon’s tenderness. She wants him so badly - but this is more than she bargained for. She doesn’t know if she can keep a wall around her heart with Aethon. He moves his hand down her arm again and threads his fingers through hers.

“There’s nothing between us?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Right,” Maeve says. She grits her teeth, trying to rein in her emotions. She was wrong. She can’t sleep with Aethon, her emotions are already too involved. She wants what she can’t have. Caring about people only leads to heartbreak. She’s learned this lesson too many times. First, with her parents. Then with her old mentor, Harlan Yates. Fuck, Aethon had almost died in the corona of that star less than twenty-four hours ago. People will always be taken from her. It’s better to be alone.

“You shadowed me,” she says. “Tried to blackmail me. Cost me my bounty.”

“And you saved my life anyway,” Aethon replies. He reaches forward, sliding his hand around Maeve’s neck and threading his fingers back into her hair. Maeve closes her eyes, sinking into the feel of his hand on her. She squeezes the fingers of his other hand. “I know all the reasons why we shouldn’t,” he breathes. “But right now I don’t fucking care. Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want me. And I’ll sleep in the damn brig.”

“I -” Maeve starts.

“Look at me while you say it,” he whispers.

Maeve leans forward, sensing that he’s close. Their foreheads press together. She knows if she opens her eyes, his golden ones will be right there. Intense and undeniable. She can’t face that.

As if he knows what she’s thinking, Aethon says again, “Look at me.”

Maeve leans back and sighs, opening her eyes. Aethon’s gaze is tender and sincere and he slides his hand out from her hair and pulls her other hand into his. He lifts their clasped hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her fingers.