The Soul Stealer (8 page)

Then, he took his lips from hers. Hunter had a confused look on his face, and then his eyes went to the door to the stairs.

“No! You aren’t leaving me, not tonight.” Malia had never been so bold, but she knew what she wanted, so she took his hand again and pulled him through the living room. It didn’t take much of an effort, because he easily followed. She smiled as she let go of his hand in the doorway of her bedroom and flipped on the lamp on the nightstand. She turned toward him and unbuttoned the sheer blouse she wore over a cotton shift, letting it fall to the floor. Next, she took the pins out of her hair and shook it loose, but she stopped when he didn’t move from the doorway. He stood there with eyes fixed on her in a serious manner.

“Is something wrong, Hunter?” she asked, trying to sound seductive.

“Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you,” he started but then hesitated. He looked down and ran his fingers through his thick hair.

Malia looked at him and waited, wondering what could possibly be stopping him.

“I’ve never done this before,” Hunter said with a shake of his head. His eyes raked over her in appreciation, the desire still there, but he didn’t budge from the doorway.

“Me neither,” she said a little too quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong impression but feeling like she had been caught. An easy, no fuss affair was exactly what she wanted. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a one night stand before either. I mean, not that I think of this as a one night stand, necessarily, but we don’t know each other, after all, so it’s a little sudden.”

Hunter held up his hands to stop her rambling. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what?”

“I’ve NEVER done this before.” A blush filled his angular face.

“What? Like you’re a virgin or something? Don’t worry, I’ll show you what to do.” Malia laughed and started to undress again but then stopped when he still didn’t move from the door and didn’t laugh at the joke. She saw the confirmation on his face. Surprise and then shock must have registered on her own face because it was too much to believe that this sexy guy had never made made love to a woman.

“Oh!” Malia sat down on the bed, unsure of what else to say. The wind, and the passion, had been knocked out of her. Maila couldn’t seem to shut her mouth. Hunter came over and sat down beside her, but not close enough so they were touching.

“How old are you?” she asked after a moment of silence.

“Probably about your age.”

“Twenty six?”

“Something like that,” he answered under his breath. He looked down at his hands and sighed.

Malia wondered why he never gave a straight answer about himself. “Are you for real?”

Hunter furrowed his brows and looked away.

“You’re so different from anyone I’ve ever known, and now you’re telling me this. It’s hard for me to believe, you’ve never. . . that no one has ever. . . .I mean many girls must have wanted to, with you.”

“Does it matter?”

“No!” Malia said with a shake of her head. “It’s just so unexpected. That’s not at all what I thought we would be talking about tonight.”

He let out a deep breath and relaxed a little. He kissed her forehead and took her hand in his and stroked the top with his long fingers. “I’ve been waiting for the right person. I’ve been waiting to feel this. I’ve been waiting for you.”

She moved closer to him, wanting to hold him and not let go. “You’re determined to make me fall for you, aren’t you?” Malia muttered under her breath.

“I am, actually. Yes,” Hunter answered with a crooked smile that lit up his face.

Malia smiled, too, and enjoyed the sensation of his hand on hers.

“Why do you say things like that to me?”

“Because it’s true,” Hunter replied. “What I’ve told you is the way I truly feel.” The soft light from the lamp played around his high cheekbones, and the dark outline of his lashes made his eyes seem even more remarkable.

“I have to ask,” Malia said with some caution, not wanting to embarrass him. “There aren’t many men who are still virgins at twenty six, especially ones who look like you. So, what happened?”

The crooked smile came back to his face but then died. “I was raised differently than most people, even where I’m from. My father is a powerful man, and he put many restrictions on me. One of them being that I needed to wait to find the right kind of person before giving myself to anyone.”

“Oh,” Malia said with sigh. “It sounds a little old fashioned, and controlling, but not necessarily wrong. He was looking out for you.”

Hunter shook his head, and his gaze was on something far away. “I think he just couldn’t deal with the possibility of my mixed offspring,” he said more to himself than to her.

“Mixed offspring? But you must have had a girlfriend at some point. Didn’t you fool around a bit? I mean, everyone does that as a teenager.”

Hunter shook his head.

“No doubt you’ve been kissed before, right?” His kiss had been too knowing, too sensuous to have been his first.

Hunter turned his full gaze to hers and shook his head. “You’re the first.”

“How can that be?”

“To be honest with you, my father wasn’t just controlling, he was a jailor. I’ve spent most of my life chained to my lessons—quite literally. I was tutored at home from the time I was small, after my mother died, and I spent my days studying as hard as I could to please him. I guess I hoped he would love me if I was the brightest student, but it didn’t really work,” Hunter said with a dark expression. “His one reward for my obedience was to let me come here.”

“Well, a vacation in Hawaii is a good reward for great grades.”

“Yes,” Hunter said with an indulgent smile, as if Malia didn’t quite understand. “I suppose it is.”

“You said your mother died when you were a kid?”

Hunter looked away again and closed his eyes, as if shielding himself against a sharp pain.

Malia wanted to change the subject, knowing how difficult it could be to talk about something like that. “What did you study?”

“Mostly quantum physics, and a bit of astrology. Although I don’t care for that as much. It’s a little too ancient.”

“You’re a physicist?”

“Well, yes,” Hunter said with a shrug, as if it wasn’t out of the ordinary. “Among other things.”

“What other things?”

“I can’t tell you everything tonight, or you’ll get bored with me,” Hunter said with a laugh. “I’m quite boring, but I’d rather you didn’t find that out until you’re old and gray.”

“So, you’re a scholar and spent too much time being educated to have any sort of personal life,” Malia said, clarifying it in her own mind, trying to make sense of it. “Where are you from? You haven’t told me anything about yourself. I don’t even know your last name.”

“Hunter Blackthorne is my name,” he said in his odd accent. He looked at her as if expecting a reaction. “I will tell you everything else you want to know. One day soon. I promise.”

Malia sighed and looked at his beautiful face. “Why me?”

“I’ve seen you in my dreams since I was a boy. You’re my other half.” He ran his fingers up and down her hand and over her forearms, sending shivers down Malia’s spine. “Are you in love with him?”

“Who?”

“The guy you had dinner with tonight.” Hunter tried to smile but then looked as if he didn’t really want to hear the answer. “I didn’t mean to be so pushy this morning about it.”

“Oh, no, not in love, no,” she said. “He’s not my type, at all.”

A real smile formed on Hunter’s face. “Why not?”

“He’s employed for one thing,” she said with a sly look. “And in a really good job.” She nudged Hunter to get him to laugh, but he only blushed.

Malia looked down at his long, graceful fingers as they caressed her skin, and noticed the bracelet on his wrist made from three strands of brown leather twined into a braid that held a metal plate. Malia ran her finger over the symbol engraved in the metal. It had odd angles, almost like a star, and some lines through it. It looked like something she had seen before, but she couldn’t think of what that was.

“That’s different,” she remarked. “Does it mean something?”

“It’s a pentacle with a dagger through it. It’s my family’s crest.”

Malia sat on her bed in the dark after suddenly shooing Hunter out of her room for the night. She had made some excuse about being tired and had pushed him out the door because it was too freaky to hear about someone’s family crest that included a dagger just after her disturbing conversation with Ryan. The dark comforted her in its shroud. She felt tired, but sleep wouldn’t come easily. There were too many questions in her mind, especially about Hunter.

She could see every emotion in each line of his face and could almost hear what he was thinking. It didn’t make any sense that she would know a stranger so well in just a few days, but she did. If she were a logical person, as she had always believed herself to be, she would wonder why a mysterious stranger was trying to sweep her off her feet. It was suspicious, especially in light of what Ryan had told her. She should go to Ryan and have Hunter’s background checked just to be safe.

The thing that deflated that line of logic was Hunter himself. He was sweet, tender, and truly cared for her—she could tell. It was not just in the words he said, although they were often quite romantic. It was the light in his eyes and the smile on his face when he looked at her. For some odd reason, Hunter seemed to be in love with her. Malia couldn’t fathom why, but she didn’t want to spoil it with suspicion and doubt about his character, even if he was evasive and mysterious.

Could love at first sight exist between two people, or was that just a fairy tale created to sell novels to lonely girls? Malia wasn’t sure, but the possibility of finding the one, true love of her life was worth exploring further.

On the other hand, it couldn’t hurt to do a quick internet search on him. There had to be some information available; everyone had some sort of tidbit listed. She got up and opened the door to find her laptop computer, which was probably on the kitchen table. The floor creaked as she walked through the living room. The house was dark, but the sound of Max snoring from his bed guided her to the kitchen, where she turned on the light and looked around. The computer sat on the counter next to the letter from her father. She picked up the letter, not sure she wanted to open it, much less read it.

Malia sighed as she tore the envelope and focused her eyes on the messy handwriting. The lines slanted down and some of the letters were illegible. No doubt her father had been drinking before writing it.

Malia smiled, imagining her father’s voice as she read the words. At least this letter wasn’t a rambling mass of sadness and guilt, but it was so like him to be cryptic about wanting to see her. Why couldn’t he just hop on a plane himself and come to this island? It had been his home for decades. Malia hoped he was finally healing as she folded the letter and put it in a drawer. The time capsule would have to wait until another day. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see what her mother had left her because it could be too painful, even after fourteen years.

She went to the computer and turned it on with a click and flash of light. Malia blinked and tried to focus her eyes on the screen. She typed Hunter Blackthorne in as many ways as it could possibly be spelled, but nothing came up that could be connected to Hunter. She searched every possible avenue to no avail. Malia tapped her fingers on the table. Odd there was nothing on the internet or in social media about him, but it was in line with what he had told her about his sheltered life.

As she turned off the computer, she felt tired and confused. Malia walked through the living room but something on the couch caught her attention. Hunter was there, still as the night, in his shirt and jeans, and his boots sat neatly on the floor next to his brown leather bag. One arm covered his face and the other stuck straight out from the couch. Malia was tempted to wake him, but she didn’t want to disturb his deep peace. She got a blanket and laid it over him in case the night air got a little chilly. She couldn’t help but run her fingers over his hair, which felt smooth and silky despite its disarray. “Good night,” she said under her breath, feeling a warm glow from being near him.

Malia went into her bedroom but left the door open to the living room so she could hear if he got up and left. She wondered why he had fallen asleep on the couch instead of going downstairs, but she was glad he did. Knowing he was in the next room made her happy.

As reality started to fall away and become fuzzy, she felt him lie down on the bed and move toward her. Hunter put his arm over her, as he had the night before. Her heart started to beat faster with his nearness and the warm glow she had felt earlier turned to heat, but he was already breathing in soft, steady rhythms in her ear.

W
as he a coward or stupidly in love? Hunter ran his fingers through his hair, searching for the answer in his heart. Now that he had the opportunity to have her completely, he didn’t think he could go through with it. Perhaps being in love meant putting the other person’s needs before your own, but Hunter wasn’t sure. No one in his family had ever done that, especially him. He had been tutored by the best to be selfish and cruel from the time he was a child, especially when it came to her family.

Malia moved in her sleep and rolled away. He wanted to remember how her hair smelled, the rhythm of her breathing as she slept, the feel of her smooth skin, and everything else about her long after she was gone. He could never be the same without her. It was a dark fate that loomed ahead—years of solitude and longing for the one woman who had made his life whole. He just wasn’t sure he could go through it. But what was the answer?

Hunter rolled onto his back and looked up. The moon lit Malia’s bedroom enough to make out the lines in the panels of pressed sugar cane in the ceiling above. He looked at the crisscross pattern of the dark open beams and white panels as he contemplated his fate.

All his years of longing, of imagining what it could be like to hold his beautiful girl in his arms and taste every inch of her, had never prepared him for how he now felt. Malia was right there next to him, and he could make love to her. She was willing. The picture of them locked in an intimate embrace flashed through his mind, and the heat of his body intensified as blood rushed through, begging him to act on that impulse. Hunter ran his hand down his stomach to feel the familiar, hard erection below, confirming just how ready he was to take Malia. He silently groaned in discomfort and tried to turn his mind to something else to ease the pain, as he had so many times before in the quiet of his chamber at home. From the time he was a child, discipline and dedication to his father’s plans had been ingrained in him as more important than personal happiness, duty above all else.

If he made love to Malia, she would be entrapped for the rest of her short life, never able to break free of him. Hunter wasn’t sure he could do that to her. He wished there was a way to fulfill his duty and keep Malia safe at the same time. He didn’t want to come to the conclusion that leaving her was the only choice, but in his heart he was afraid it was true.

He nestled his face in her neck and put his arm over her again, feeling desire increase with a painful throb. He was used to this pain, especially at night, but now that Malia was a breath away it intensified to the point he could no longer ignore it. This longing would keep him awake until he did something to satisfy it. He carefully disengaged himself and got up from the bed and walked as quietly as possible across the hardwood floor, carrying his boots. He locked the front door behind him, before descending the stairs to the studio.

The moon was getting lower in the sky, and the first light of dawn peeked on the opposite horizon. He took a moment to feel the quiet of the turn of night into day—the moment right before the birds chirped their first morning song. His body wouldn’t let him linger there for long. It demanded release. Hunter locked himself in the studio, wanting the familiarity of solitude while he expertly relieved his pain.

“Hi,” she said with a warm smile as he walked into the kitchen. Malia had a pile of dresses in front of her and was inspecting one quite closely. “Why did you leave?” she asked, not looking up from the dress. Her question was nonchalant, but Hunter knew better. He could feel her skeptical curiosity mixed with hurt feelings.

“I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to disturb you with my tossing and turning,” he lied, unable to look at her. He went to the cupboard for a mug and then poured himself a cup of coffee. He had acquired a taste for coffee and often stood in line at espresso bars for a cup in the afternoon, even though caffeine was a known poison to his kind. In small doses, it didn’t seem to do much damage to his nervous system, or his powers.

Hunter concentrated on the coffee, not wanting to look at Malia for any length of time. She was too beautiful in the morning, and it hurt to think of not seeing those green eyes or the rumpled blonde hair every day of his life. He indulged in a glance in her direction and then bent down to play with Max, who was happy with the attention.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to avoid me?” she asked.

Hunter tried to flash an innocent look in Malia’s direction. “I don’t know.”

She nodded and went back to her work at the sewing machine but frequently stole looks at him. He leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped coffee, unsure of what else to do. He shouldn’t have come into the house, but he couldn’t help himself; he wanted to see her. He needed to see her, or the day just wouldn’t be right.

“We could go for a hike. I could show you some things that most people never see,” Malia said with a hopeful look on her face.

I’m sure you could,
Hunter thought as he gazed at her long legs under the table. She wore shorts and a T-shirt. The slender slope of her calves caught his attention, and he imagined putting them around his neck as he got lost deep inside her.

“Hunter?”

He had to shake his head slightly to focus on what Malia had just said. “Uh, well.” Panic set in, and he knew he had to break free or the resolve to leave her would vanish. He couldn’t breathe. “I’d love to, but I can’t today. I have some things that need to get done, so I’ll be gone all day, and probably tonight, too.” He tried not to speak too fast.

“Oh, okay,” she said and went back to her work.

She was angry. Hunter could feel it in the room.

He had the urge to bolt out the door to escape the desire threatening to engulf him. Instead, he carefully put down his cup in the sink and turned toward the door. It was only a few steps away, but Malia sat in the way of a clean escape. He took a deep breath and walked toward the door, and she kept working, no doubt too upset to look at him. He stopped right behind her and couldn’t help but put his hand on her soft hair and bend down to smell its sweet fragrance. He kissed the top of her head, knowing he wanted more, much more of her.

Malia stopped what she was doing but didn’t move or speak. He walked out without another word and kept walking to the end of the street. He looked around to make sure no one was outside, and then he disappeared. He wanted the freedom of sitting on a mountain by the ocean. The sound of the waves would soothe his aching soul, and there he would decide. There he would determine if duty or love was most important. If he chose duty, Hunter would know just what to do, but if he chose love, a mysterious and uncertain path loomed ahead.

“Asshole,” Malia said under her breath as she watched him practically run out the door. One night he’s declaring that she is the only one for him, and the next day he bolts out the door. “Typical guy,” she said to Max, who sat at her feet and wagged his tail. She kept sewing, trying to lose herself in busywork.

“Why are men such cowards?” she asked Max. Malia had never been able to figure them out, especially when it came to matters of the heart. “They just can’t deal with any sort of deep emotions, because they’re so one dimensional. It’s sad, really, and also disappointing. I thought Hunter was different, but apparently not. Typical,” she said again. She would rather be angry, so tears couldn’t take over.

“Let’s go for a hike, just you and me, boy.” Max’s tail started pumping when she took the leash out of the closet.

She let the screen door bang as she walked out of the house and trotted down the stairs with Max at her heels. She didn’t indulge in even a glance toward the studio as she passed through the carport. The banana patch was just behind the house. It turned into a trail at the other end that eventually wound up the mountains, but Malia wouldn’t go that far. She wanted time away from everything, a chance to stop and look at the various flowers and plants that grew so much larger in the moist red dirt, far from the paved roads of civilization, far from her reality.

It was a warm, sunny day, but the trail was cool from the thick foliage that blocked the sun overhead. As she and Max started their walk, she decided it was just what she needed to flush a certain person out of her mind
. The nerve of him to come on so strong and then run away
, she thought
.
Hunter had almost gotten her to believe he loved her after only a couple of days. She bristled at her own vulnerability and took a brisk pace, which Max matched with enthusiasm. Soon they were deep in the rainforest.

Malia stopped where she usually turned around—a boulder in the middle of the trail marked the spot. At that point, the trail got more obscure and started to wind up the lush Koolau mountains, where centuries of rain-induced waterfalls made jagged lines that fell straight down the face to the valley below. Her father had claimed that those jagged crevices in the cliffs were caused by the ancient Hawaiians hauling their canoes up the mountains. Malia had believed him when she was a girl.

It was a treacherous climb up the face of the cliffs, so not many people ever attempted it, but that’s why she loved this trail so much. She didn’t have to fight a crowd of tourists to enjoy the majestic scenery.

Malia sat down on the smooth rock and took a water bottle out of her pack, drank half of it, and then poured the rest into Max’s panting mouth. He greedily lapped up the water and continued to breathe hard, his slurping the only noise for miles. The peaceful quiet soaked in and calmed her. When she looked around, there was no sign of anyone else on the dirt trail.

The moist air smelled of moss and red clay, and a lone bird chirped from a tree. The symbol of Hunter’s family crest came to mind, and she wondered again about the coincidence of her conversation with Ryan and then seeing an actual family crest the same night. Her mother had always said there were no such things as coincidences. Rather, there were messages sent from the heavens disguised as chance occurrences. Malia just couldn’t believe Hunter had anything to do with those murders or any sort of cult, though. He was too beautiful, sweet and tender.

Malia shook her head, not caring for her train of thoughts. He was a typical guy and nothing more, even if everything about him was extraordinary. She tried to focus on his duplicity instead—the way he never quite told the truth about himself. He was hiding something, but it couldn’t be murder.

“Well, Max, we’d better get back. I have work to do today,” she said to the dog, needing to get out of her thoughts. She took off his leash so he could wander around on the way home.

Max ran around a bend in the trail, but Malia stopped to pick a wild flower and put it behind her ear. Then a loud snap made her look up the trail toward the mountains. She turned, expecting to see hikers or trail runners coming, but there was no one there. A bush shook, as if someone ran past it before she could see them. “Max? Max,” she called in a loud voice, thinking he would get lost if he went back up the trail toward the mountains. But Max came around the bend in the other direction and stopped at her feet. “Let’s get home, and fast,” she told him.

Malia couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder as she made her way back toward the banana trees. Her feet moved fast of their own accord, and her heart raced with panic as she thought of the woman’s body recently found on a hiking trail. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to go for a walk alone, she decided a little too late.

The wind blew the trees and bushes around, bringing noises with it. Malia imagined all sorts of hidden dangers as she started to run toward the safety of civilization, feeling someone’s eyes on her. Each time she stopped to look back, Malia saw the same sort of motion of the branches and bushes, but no one was there. So she ran faster and kept her focus on the line of banana trees ahead, while her heart pounded in her ears. The familiarity of the banana patch gave her the ability to vary her direction through the maze of trees without getting lost. Max barked as he ran at her feet, making her believe even more there was someone, or something, behind them. It could be a wild boar, but that wasn’t necessarily better than a person chasing them. Boars roamed the forest but seldom came close to the trail when people were around.

Was that her breath pounding in her ears, or the sound of her heartbeat? Malia wasn’t sure, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins made her feet go faster. She wouldn’t be able to keep this pace much longer, though. She was certain something, or someone, was gaining speed behind her. She no longer looked back, staying focused on the end of the banana patch ahead. And there it was—the edge of her backyard only a few feet away.

She ran through the garden to the stairs leading to the front door, but then stopped cold. Max was no longer there at her feet. Malia glanced toward the studio, but the door was closed. “Max!” she called, not wanting to go back toward the banana patch. “Max!”

Malia stood at the bottom of the stairs trying not to panic and wondering what to do. “Max!”

She ran up the stairs, bolted through the door, and locked it, unable to contain her terror. She stood panting in the kitchen for a moment but then ran to the window that overlooked the backyard. “Max!” she called through the open window. Fear flooded through her body. Quickly, she imagined all sorts of unbearable fates for her dog.

Time seemed to stand still while she waited for him to appear out of the banana patch. It wasn’t like him to run off, especially if they were being chased. Maybe he had turned to defend her; Malia hadn’t noticed in her haste to make it home. Sweat poured from her brow, and her hands shook as she set the leash down on the table.
Where is he?

A loud yelp came from the direction of the forest, but she wasn’t sure it was Max. Whatever it was, it was an animal in pain. Then, to Malia’s relief, Max came running out of the trees and galloped to the stairs. Malia made it to the door and opened it just as he got there. He ran into the house and leaped to the window, hysterically barking in the direction of the banana patch.