by Julia Sykes
The rope around my heart that tethered me to him tugged, pulling me back to him. Talking about this would be hard, but I was sure that we could get through it.
When Raúl held me in his protective arms, I was stronger than I’d ever been. We could take on both our demons. Together.
Chapter 23
Raúl
“Raúl?” Even through the wooden barrier of the door between us, Marisol’s soft voice caressed my skin.
My stomach twisted, but I didn’t respond. It’d taken a few hours and half a bottle of my finest Scotch, but I’d been doing a decent job at not thinking about anything at all. I especially didn’t want to think about Marisol. I didn’t want to remember the horror in her lovely eyes.
You’re not… You’re not going to give me a choice?
No, I hadn’t given her a choice. I’d never given her a choice.
You are an abomination, Raúl. The truth that’d always been embedded in my mind was tinged with the shrill cadence of my mother’s voice. Evil is in your blood.
I knocked back another two shots of whiskey, grimacing around the rasping burn. More alcohol would drown out my thoughts: memories of Marisol’s wide, fearful eyes as she begged for me to release her; flashes of my vicious pleasure when I’d pinned her down in the dirt and subjugated her; an echo of her scream when I’d mercilessly spanked her tender inner thighs until she sobbed and agreed that she was mine.
“Raúl, I’m coming in.”
I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, wishing I’d locked the door. Wishing that some selfish, disgusting part of me hadn’t been waiting for her to come to me. I’d intentionally left the way open, so she could walk right into my trap.
The soft click of a switch being flipped was followed by a burning wash of light through my closed lids.
“Lights off,” I growled.
I didn’t want to see her face. I didn’t want her anywhere near me.
But I didn’t tell her to leave. Already, her soft warmth pushed past through the frigid darkness that clung to me like icy tendrils. Unable to stop myself, I leaned toward her heat and opened my eyes.
With the overhead lights off, the only illumination came from the decorative lighting along the shelves of my whiskey cabinet. It rendered her a silhouette before me, but even as a shadow, Marisol was breathtaking. Her lush curves tempted me, and the glow that framed her face gave her an otherworldly quality; a pure, good spirit that I’d caged and corrupted for my own sick pleasure.
I grabbed the Scotch from the table beside my armchair, not bothering with a glass anymore. I tipped the bottle back and took a long pull, seeking oblivion.
“Don’t do that.” Even her admonishments were gentle. The scolding was softened with compassion, as though she was worried that I was damaging myself. “I know you’re not comfortable with long conversations, but we should talk. It’s not like you to get drunk.”
A cold, hollow laugh filled the room. “Why shouldn’t I get drunk? It is my birthday, after all.”
Her small hand closed over mine, guiding me to place the whiskey bottle back on the table. “I didn’t know it’s your birthday,” she murmured, apologetic and achingly sweet. “But this isn’t a good way to celebrate.”
My laughter roughened. The ragged edge to the humorless sound grated against the softness she offered. “It’s not a celebration. Evil coming into the world isn’t something to celebrate.”
I tried to take another swig, beyond ready to pass the fuck out and forget this day had ever happened.
Marisol’s frail fingers plucked the bottle from my hand. She placed it on the floor, several feet away from us.
I swallowed a groan when she dropped to her knees before me, but she didn’t reach for my cock. Her hands came up to frame my face, trapping me in her dark stare. My eyes had begun to adjust to the dim lighting, and now, her golden skin seemed to glow like a muted sun. She appeared ethereal and so fucking beautiful it made my chest ache.
“You are not evil.” She spoke each word with the weight of a promise, as though it was an irrevocable truth.
I twisted my lips into a sneer and shoved her tender hands away from my face.
“You don’t understand. You don’t want to understand. Or maybe you can’t, because you weren’t made for this criminal underworld that I live in.”
I speared her with a glare, willing her to accept the truth; silently commanding her to stop tormenting me by questioning it. Every time she did, I had to endure the burden of refuting her. I was so fucking tired of it. So sick of desperately clinging to the idea that there might be some goodness in me; goodness that was reflected in her eyes when she looked at me.
“Some people are just born evil, Marisol. It’s in their DNA. You can’t fight genetics.”
She didn’t reach for me again, but she didn’t back away, either. Her chocolate eyes were huge in her incandescent face. I yearned to drown myself in the dark pools, to sink into her warmth and forget everything else. Everything but her.
She placed her hands on the arms of the chair at either side of me, anchoring herself firmly in my space.
“Tell me why you think that. Why do you think you were born evil, Raúl?”
“It’s in my blood.” Again, I heard the echo of my mother’s shrill voice when I spoke the words aloud. “I’m the product of rape, Marisol. Whoever my father was—some rabid beast in the night—raped my mother and cursed her with a monster for a son. I only exist because of the worst sort of violation. I am an abomination.”
“Oh, Raúl…” My name hitched in her throat, and a shining tear slid down her golden cheek. “Please, don’t say that. It’s not true.”
“If it’s not true, then explain to me how I ended up running a cartel. Explain to me how I chose a life where I kill for money and power, and I feel no remorse.”
She didn’t flinch from my harsh challenge. “Why don’t you explain it to me.”
I shifted away from her, crossing my arms over my chest to form a defensive barrier between us. If she wanted the truth, I’d give her the truth. Then, she would understand what I truly was. She would accept that there wasn’t a shred of goodness in me.
“I went to prison when I was fourteen. When I got out a year later, I joined a gang. That’s what criminals do. We hurt people and take what we want. We protect each other, so we can keep destroying people’s lives. That’s how I met Stefano.
“He’s smarter than me. He figured out how to get an in with the cartel, and I followed him. When he started a war and made himself king, I helped him with that, too. The profit I made off my crimes is what bought this house. It’s what bought the walls that surround it; the barriers that keep the cops out. They can’t touch me here. No one can fuck with me now. No one can ever take what’s mine and lock me away.”
I lifted my chin and glowered at her, demanding her revulsion.
Another tear rolled down her cheek, but her features were pinched with sorrow rather than disgust. “You were trying to survive,” she breathed. “Is that how you ended up in prison? Did you make a choice for your survival?”
My gaze was drawn to the battered watch that I always kept buckled snugly around my wrist. The tiny, pathetic chips of diamonds glittered dully, marking the cardinal points around the face. Except for the stone at nine o’clock. That one had been knocked loose on the night I’d taken my trophy.
“I was arrested because my bastard stepfather set me up. He and my mother got together when I was a toddler. They started a family—a real family; a good family. I was the demon that they allowed to live in their house, taking up their valuable resources and ruining their perfect happily-ever-after bullshit.
“When mom got pregnant with their third child, there wasn’t room in the house for me anymore. My stepfather finally grew the balls to defend his family. He made a plan to drive the evil out of their home. He had friends on the police force. They arranged a raid on our house and planted cocaine in my bedroom. My stepfather told them I’d been de
aling, and his cop buddies made sure the charges stuck.”
I rubbed my thumb over the watch, tracing the scratches scored into the glass. “I only went back to that house once after I got out of lockup. I went back to prove to them that I was exactly what they’d always said I was: evil, dangerous. Once I kicked my stepfather’s teeth in, he got the message. He never dared to fuck with me again.”
Marisol was silent for a moment, eyeing the way I was touching the watch.
“You told me that’s your stepfather’s watch. You told me that you wear it to remind you of who you are.”
“Now you’re finally getting it.” My lips split in what was meant to be a mocking grin, but the knifing pain in my chest twisted it into a grimace.
“You said it reminds you that you’re powerful. That you’re untouchable. That’s not evil, Raúl. You were an abused child. Your family hurt you in ways I can’t even imagine. All because of something you had no control over. Whatever your biological father did to your mother, it wasn’t your fault. I know the pain she must have gone through, but that doesn’t excuse how she treated you. His cruelty has nothing to do with you. You aren’t like him.”
“I’m exactly like him!” I flung the truth at her like a dagger. “Open your eyes, Marisol. I brought you into my home, and I’ve trapped you here against your will. I wanted you all to myself, so I kept you. I used you for my perverted pleasures, and I’ve reveled in my victories over you.” My litany of sins took on a fevered rasp. “I shackled you down and beat you while you screamed. And I loved every second of your suffering. You resisted me for so long, but I finally took what I wanted. I fucked you, and I planned to keep on using you. I never had any intention of letting you go.”
The evil inside me oozed through my veins, poisoning every inch of my being. Until I’d captured Marisol, I’d had one line I wouldn’t cross, but the inevitable had finally happened. It’d been stupid to resist this single, most essential part of my true nature when I’d always known there was nothing that I could do to change what was in my blood.
“I am just like my father.” The pronouncement was flat and cold, devoid of humanity. There was no point pretending. Not anymore.
“No.” Marisol’s horrified whisper twisted the knife in my heart.
I tipped my head back, staring up at the dark ceiling to avoid looking into her expressive eyes.
“Raúl, no.” She spoke more forcefully. “That’s not how it is between us. You didn’t rape me. Please, look at me.”
Her pained plea compelled my compliance, and I found myself dragged deep into the warm, dark pools of her eyes.
“My reaction to the birth control shot was about my own demons, not you. I thought my chance to have children—the big family I’d always envisioned when I lived in Comitán—died when I chose to flee from my home. I thought I’d carved that dream out of my heart, but it turns out it’s still there.”
She placed a hand on my forearm, testing my receptiveness to her touch. My muscles bunched under her fragile fingers, but I didn’t pull away.
“I’ve learned to feel safe with you. I’ve found happiness with you; something I thought I’d never experience again. I want a future with you, but until today, I hadn’t thought about the possibility of having children. The birth control shot stirred up my grief for the life I left behind. Hearing you say that the door was still closed forever triggered the agony of that loss.”
She leaned closer and placed her palms on my cheeks, holding me without tentativeness or hesitation. Her gentle heat sank into my skin, a warm light that pushed back the darkness in my mind with the inevitability of the dawn.
My brain blanked, soothed to a purely sensory level where my words weren’t necessary. I didn’t have to scrape together an argument to refute Marisol. I didn’t have to say anything at all. She knew me in ways I didn’t even know myself, and I was greedy for her to fill my mind with her soft reassurances. I welcomed her sweet truths to sink into my soul, taking root amongst my darkest beliefs about myself.
Her fingertips brushed away the furrows in my brow. “If you truly don’t want children, then we will still build a life together that makes us both happy. We’ll be a family, Raúl. This is a decision we can only make together, and we can take as much time as we need to sort through our feelings. My anguish over the lost dream of the family I’d always envisioned momentarily blinded me to your pain. If I’d known how your mother treated you, if I’d known that you believe evil is encoded in your genes…”
Another glittering tear rolled down her golden cheek, as brilliant and precious as a diamond. “I understand why you’re afraid to be a father. But you have to believe me when I tell you that you’re not evil. There is no darkness in your blood that would be passed on to your children.
“You have so much goodness in you. I see it every single day. Yes, you do bad things with the cartel.” She brushed away my weak rebuttal before it could fully form on my tongue. “That doesn’t make you inherently evil. Humans are more complicated than that. You are human, Raúl. You’re not a monster.”
Her fingers continued to caress my face in feather-light touches, soothing the furious tension from each of my features with reverent care. “You’ve done bad things to obtain the money and power that’ve ensured your survival and security. But everything you do—all the values and hobbies and quirks that make you you—is ultimately about being a good provider.
“Maybe you didn’t have anyone to provide for before you met me, because you wouldn’t let them close enough. But if anything is the deepest truth of your soul, it’s that. Not your crimes, not your ruthlessness. Your deep need to nurture and protect is the core of who you really are.”
Keeping one dainty hand on my cheek, she placed her other directly over my heart. “I love you, Raúl. I choose you. Please, never think that any part of what we share is evil. I won’t accept that, just like you wouldn’t accept my fear when you first took me in. Every single day, you proved to me through your actions that I will never need to be afraid ever again. I believe you now, and I will never doubt it.”
Her fingers sank into my chest, as though she was determined for me to feel her hold over my heart. “I will do the same for you, because you’ve earned my love. It might take time, but I will never stop showing you who you really are. I will never stop seeing the goodness in you. One day, you’ll see it too. You’ll believe that I love you just as you are.”
I’d never been good with words, but the absolute, undeniable truth left my soul with the weight of an oath. “I love you, Marisol.”
My heart pumped beneath her small hand, the strong, steady throb almost painful in its intensity. I craved to believe every solemn promise that issued from her perfect lips. I wasn’t sure if I dared to believe them. They seemed impossible, unreal.
But my love for her was real. It was the realest thing in my world, the most perfect peace I’d ever known.
“I love you.” I marveled at the pure elation that soared through my chest, lifting the darkness away as though it weighed nothing. I caught one of her diamond tears on my thumb, tracing the ethereal, breathtaking contours of her face with the same reverence she’d shown me.
Her hand lifted from my heart, but before I could feel a twinge at the loss, her touch moved to the watch around my wrist. A low grunt of protest caught in my throat when her dainty fingers began working the buckle free, but her lovely eyes soothed me to silence.
“You don’t need to carry this with you anymore.” It was a soft command, and I knew I’d never feel the shackle of my past around my wrist ever again. She wouldn’t let me.
As soon as the cruel badge of my darkest impulses dropped away, she surged toward me and pressed her lips to mine. I pulled her into my arms, groaning into her mouth. She consumed the sound of my anguish releasing, extracting the pain from my soul and replacing it with her sweetness and light. Her love for me filled my entire being.
My possessive grip on her curvy body coiled tighter, locking
her in my embrace. Marisol would never leave me. Not because I caged her, but because she chose me. She loved me.
And I loved her so much that her warm light utterly consumed me. I gave her everything that I was, just as she gave herself to me.
Chapter 24
Raúl
One Week Later
“I can’t believe this is real. It feels like a dream.” Marisol pressed her hand against the car window, as though she could touch the countryside that surrounded Comitán.
I reached over from the driver’s seat, enveloping her slender fingers in mine. “It’s real, corderita. You’re going home. We’re almost there.”
The three-hour drive from the nearest airport in Tuxtla Gutierrez had mostly passed in comfortable silence while Marisol drank in the sight of the changing terrain along the route to her hometown.
As we neared the outskirts of the city, passing the first few scattered, slightly ramshackle houses, tension began to build inside the SUV. Anxious energy radiated from her, and her teeth worried at her lower lip.
“What if things are different?” Her voice was little more than a strained whisper. “What if they’ve grown to hate me?”
I squeezed her hand, wishing I could hold her more closely. “Your family won’t hate you. They love you, just as much as I do.”
And if they dared to say a single cruel word to her, I’d make sure they regretted it. They would accept her, even if I had to do a little harsher convincing behind her back.
Marisol would be reunited with her family. I’d made a promise. They would cooperate.
Luckily, she was too entranced by the familiar scene outside the window to notice my ferocious expression. I took a breath and smoothed it away.
Of course, Marisol’s family still loved her. How could anyone not love her?
