Free Hunter Kiss: A Companion Novella by Marjorie M. Liu Page A

signed. I might have a decade, maybe two, but not much longer than that. And I won't die in my sleep. I'll be murdered. Like my mother was, and her mother, and her mother before that. A single line of women running so far behind me I can't see the beginning of them. All victims of a violent end."
    Grant flinches, his arms tightening around me. "No."
    "Yes. One day the boys will stop protecting me. They will aban don me for my child. And when that happens, the demons I have spent my life hunting will know, and they will kill me. It's the price we pay for the protection we are given. The boys ... the boys have to survive. And I'm not immortal. I'll get old, maybe sick, and if I die of natural causes before the boys have made the switch ..."
    "They'll die, too?"
    "I wasn't always the only Hunter. There were others, a long time ago."
    "You could rebel. You could ... stay celibate."
    The catch in his voice almost makes me laugh. "I've done that, but it won't last forever. The boys will make sure I get pregnant. Might hold me down and force a man inside me. Might threaten to take a life if I don't find a man to have sex with. It's happened to some of the other women in my family. Sometimes I wonder if they didn't do that to my mother."
    "You said she died."
    "Shot in the head. Right in front of me."
    Grant shudders. I force myself to look at him, but instead of fear,
    "Please."
    dismay, all I see is anger, a terrible white-hot fury so chilling I cannot see past the pale of his cheeks, the line of his lips, the cold heat of his eyes.
    "You love them," he says in hard voice. "Despite that, you still care about them."
    "Family," I whisper. "Family cuts, but it's thicker than blood. They live because of me, and I live because of them. I can't hate them, Grant. Not even for how my mother died. How I'll die. They're too much a part of who I am."
    He takes a deep breath, pushing it out, slow. "So if we do this, I'll become a father.
    "Probably." I hesitate. "I didn't want to tell you."
    "Because you didn't think we would be together long enough for me to find out you're carrying my child? Or because you didn't think I would want to be with you if I knew the truth?" He snorts, some color finally returning to his face. "You don't know me at all, Maxine."
    "Sorry," I mutter, my eyes burning, burning like my cheeks, my throat. "I'm so sorry, Grant."
    "No." His lips find my forehead again, his hands pushing back my hair, cradling my face. "No, Maxine. This is not your fault. And this is not anything to be scared of. We'll make this work. We'll fig ure something out. I am not going to let you die before your time."
    "You can't stop that."
    "There's time," he whispers. "If you want to try.
    He almost makes me believe. If faith could be a gift, then this man is capable of giving in spades. But I am afraid, and I do not have his faith, or his belief in my future. I know what I am, and all I have is the present, the past. And it does not matter that the hope in his eyes, his conviction, is addictive. Intoxicating.
    I swallow hard. "I am not your responsibility, Grant."
    "But you were willing to have a baby with me. Some last-minute choice, huh?" His jaw tightens. "Don't you think I knew what I was
    getting myself into?"
    "No," I say flatly. "I really don't think you did."
    "So I didn't know all of it. But I considered at least one possible consequence." His hand slides off my waist and presses gently against my stomach, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Maybe this is rash of me, too. Maybe I could step back, wait another day. Cool off, think this through. Not put you in danger."
    "I understand," I murmur, unable to look at him. "Good idea."
    "No." He tilts up my chin. "You don't get it, do you? I can't walk away, Maxine. And not ... not because I want to ... to just have sex with you. And not because I want to hurt you. Not that. Just the opposite."
    "You don't know me, Grant."
    "You don't know me, either. Not really. So why are you here? Why, when