what I do. It's what I have to do."
She walked up to him, unafraid, so boldly that both fear for her safety and admiration for her courage coursed through him, warring factions in a body already stained with so much violence that there was almost no space for anything else. "Levi." She put her hands on his chest, and the shock of her soft touch was a jolt to his system. "There are really nasty things hunting me. You'll need to kill them to keep me alive." She smiled. "You'll get your chance to do your hunting thing, so it's all good."
Something inside him seemed to ease at the feel of her touch, and despite his attempts to be heroic and keep her at a distance, he found himself putting his hands over hers, holding them in place. "If I kill anything," he said quietly, "I will lose what is left of my mind. It's like an addiction. It's a need that's always there, and once I have the smallest taste of it, I'm lost to it. It took me thirty years in that hellhole before I was sane again. I don't want to go there. I can't live like that again, but the need is there, clawing at me, every second." He needed her to understand what he was. "Maybe I should have stayed chained up. Maybe the man who locked me up was right that the cavern was the only safe place for me." The thought was grisly, but he couldn't lie to himself. The night that he'd been ambushed by pissed off commoners after he'd killed their leader, he'd been knocked out, taken underground, and deprived of the ability to hunt. For years he'd raged, until slowly, the need to kill had begun to fade, replaced by the first glimpses of sanity he'd had in a long time. Getting chained up had been his greatest gift, because it was that isolation that had given him his mind back.
Maybe he should have stayed there. Maybe he'd been wrong to escape. Maybe he'd been wrong all this time to think he could stay sane once he was out.
Maya studied his face, her beautiful, intelligent eyes searching his, her expression devoid of any fear or wariness. "How do you kill? With your weapons?" She touched his arm, her fingers brushing over the brands that had been locked down for so long.
He shook his head, but didn't move away from her touch. It just felt so amazing to feel her skin brush against his. He'd been without human contact for so long. Maya's touch made him feel like he was a human being, like his soul still existed somewhere in the depths of all the stains he'd poured into it over the centuries. "Through the skin. I absorb the life force of my victim. Silent and unseen, I suck the life out of them until they're nothing more than an empty physical shell." He didn't try to sugarcoat it. As much as it would break him to walk away from her, he couldn't lie to her about who he was. She deserved the truth.
Her eyebrows shot up, and she pulled her hand back from him, breaking physical contact. "What about your Calydon weapons?"
He shrugged casually, even though a part of him shriveled and died at her retreat. For his entire life, he'd lived in isolation, and he was fine with it, but Maya made him burn for connection with her. To be so close, and then have her retreat actually made his chest hurt.
"I don't kill with my axes," he said, trying to stay focused on the conversation, and not on how badly he wanted to bury himself against her. "And I don't kill by accident. You can touch me without being afraid." He hadn't meant to say it, as if he were trying to convince her to touch him, but the words had come on their own. No one had touched him voluntarily in his life, at least that he could recall, except to hurt him. Even if people hadn't known who he was, they'd sensed how dangerous he was, and they'd stayed away. A few women had been attracted to the danger, but their touches had been clinical and meaningless, only for the purpose of getting a night of hard sex. Maya was different, and it made him want more.
She glanced at his arms again, but didn't touch him. "If you did use your weapons
She walked up to him, unafraid, so boldly that both fear for her safety and admiration for her courage coursed through him, warring factions in a body already stained with so much violence that there was almost no space for anything else. "Levi." She put her hands on his chest, and the shock of her soft touch was a jolt to his system. "There are really nasty things hunting me. You'll need to kill them to keep me alive." She smiled. "You'll get your chance to do your hunting thing, so it's all good."
Something inside him seemed to ease at the feel of her touch, and despite his attempts to be heroic and keep her at a distance, he found himself putting his hands over hers, holding them in place. "If I kill anything," he said quietly, "I will lose what is left of my mind. It's like an addiction. It's a need that's always there, and once I have the smallest taste of it, I'm lost to it. It took me thirty years in that hellhole before I was sane again. I don't want to go there. I can't live like that again, but the need is there, clawing at me, every second." He needed her to understand what he was. "Maybe I should have stayed chained up. Maybe the man who locked me up was right that the cavern was the only safe place for me." The thought was grisly, but he couldn't lie to himself. The night that he'd been ambushed by pissed off commoners after he'd killed their leader, he'd been knocked out, taken underground, and deprived of the ability to hunt. For years he'd raged, until slowly, the need to kill had begun to fade, replaced by the first glimpses of sanity he'd had in a long time. Getting chained up had been his greatest gift, because it was that isolation that had given him his mind back.
Maybe he should have stayed there. Maybe he'd been wrong to escape. Maybe he'd been wrong all this time to think he could stay sane once he was out.
Maya studied his face, her beautiful, intelligent eyes searching his, her expression devoid of any fear or wariness. "How do you kill? With your weapons?" She touched his arm, her fingers brushing over the brands that had been locked down for so long.
He shook his head, but didn't move away from her touch. It just felt so amazing to feel her skin brush against his. He'd been without human contact for so long. Maya's touch made him feel like he was a human being, like his soul still existed somewhere in the depths of all the stains he'd poured into it over the centuries. "Through the skin. I absorb the life force of my victim. Silent and unseen, I suck the life out of them until they're nothing more than an empty physical shell." He didn't try to sugarcoat it. As much as it would break him to walk away from her, he couldn't lie to her about who he was. She deserved the truth.
Her eyebrows shot up, and she pulled her hand back from him, breaking physical contact. "What about your Calydon weapons?"
He shrugged casually, even though a part of him shriveled and died at her retreat. For his entire life, he'd lived in isolation, and he was fine with it, but Maya made him burn for connection with her. To be so close, and then have her retreat actually made his chest hurt.
"I don't kill with my axes," he said, trying to stay focused on the conversation, and not on how badly he wanted to bury himself against her. "And I don't kill by accident. You can touch me without being afraid." He hadn't meant to say it, as if he were trying to convince her to touch him, but the words had come on their own. No one had touched him voluntarily in his life, at least that he could recall, except to hurt him. Even if people hadn't known who he was, they'd sensed how dangerous he was, and they'd stayed away. A few women had been attracted to the danger, but their touches had been clinical and meaningless, only for the purpose of getting a night of hard sex. Maya was different, and it made him want more.
She glanced at his arms again, but didn't touch him. "If you did use your weapons
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