“You’re pushing me away because you’re a coward. You don’t want me to leave as I’m the only one strong enough to put up with your bullshit.”
His face went stark white. Eyes flashed with livid rage. “What did you just say to me?”
“You’re a coward. You hide behind violence. You dish it out. You invoke it to happen to you, but really, you’re lost and alone and you’re drowning.” My mind collided with so many things I wanted to say. “Something’s destroying you inside. You’re looking for a way out but you can’t find it. That’s why you surround yourself with fighters. It’s a world you know. The only world you can breathe in.”
His teeth ground together; his body vibrated. “Get. Out. Get out!”
Ignoring him, I rushed on. “I think you bribed me to stay, because I’m the only one you have ever felt any connection with. I think chemistry and attraction is completely new to you and instead of asking me out on a date, you stole my knife and kidnapped me. I don’t know what’s going on in that brain of yours, but I’m beginning to understand.”
He sucked in a harsh breath, his muscles shuddering with anger. “You think you know me? You think you can wave a fucking magic wand and fix me?” He moved to get off the bed, and I backed away. His feet touched the floor, but he didn’t stand up, almost as if he forced himself to stay seated, to stay away from me. “It was a mistake to fuck you. It was a mistake to let you anywhere near me. You’re crazy with your stupid conclusions. I’m not a pet project for a girl scout to fix. Get the fuck out and stop boring me.”
“I’m boring you? Oh, my God, you’re completely backwards. If you were bored you wouldn’t care what I thought. You’re not bored, Fox, because you know I’m right. What do you want from me? What were you hoping to achieve?”
From my place in the centre of the carpet, I balled my hands. “Did you think you’d win my affection by raping me? Or how about making me swoon with your fucked-up inability to be touched? I wanted you—I’ve been honest about that right from the start—but what I don’t want is a man who’s so far off the realm of sanity that I can’t understand or predict. If you gave me the money right now, I’d leave, and I would never think about you again.”
My throat closed on the lie.
Fox clutched the edge of the mattress. “Don’t let me keep you, dobycha. Congratulations on fucking hurting me more than the injuries I’m suffering. You just proved how shallow you are. You never truly wanted me—if you did, you’d want more than just what my bank balance can give you!”
My entire body hummed with anger. “I’m the shallow one? How about you? You think you’re one-dimensional; you provide a scarred scary persona who owns an illegal fight club, but that’s not the truth. Want to hear my version of the truth and then you can see if I’m shallow enough not to care?”
I didn’t wait for his reply. “You can’t be touched. I would never be able to guess why that is but it left me wondering—why did you buy me for sex if you never undress and seem to abhor the very idea of being near anyone? You wear clothes as if they’ll protect you from something. You sculpt and work with metal because you have control over the destiny of the piece that you’re creating. You’re screwed up and confused and—”
“Shut up! Get the fuck out.” I leaped back as Fox stood upright. He roared, “Stop it. Just leave me alone!”
My ears rang from his fierceness; my heart bruised my ribs it thudded so hard, but for the first time, I sensed a crack. He wasn’t Mr. Obsidian in that moment, he was just a man with a primal temper. A man on the verge of losing it.
“No. You’re going to hear me.” I’m going to break you.
His teeth ground loudly sending shivers scattering over my back. Swallowing hard, I demanded, “Had you kissed anyone before? Before me?”
He glared daggers, piercing my skin with his hatred. “What does it matter? Have you ever been so badly abused every bone was broken in your body? Have you ever gone days without food or had so much blood on your hands you wanted to kill yourself?” His chest heaved under his sweater.
We froze.
His nostrils flared. He didn’t mean to slip—he’d said something fundamental—a huge insight into his past. I wouldn’t let him retreat now. Taking a step forward, I pushed him, kept prodding, as if he were a cornered animal.
“No, but you have.” I couldn’t handle this. It hurt to think about Fox’s past—what he kept hidden. He’d almost killed me. He’d taken me against my will. I owed him my hatred, not my pity.
But how could I fear someone in such emotional pain?
The scar on his cheek glowed bright red, looking as if it wept with fresh blood. Colour flushed his neck line, highlighting faded scars I hadn’t noticed before. He seemed to throb before my eyes—changing from a zombie, a lifeless creature still going through the motions of life, to a man craving freedom.
“I know you’re not Australian, and I know your scar was a punishment. Tell me.”
He shook his head, damp hair flying. He bared his teeth. “Let me figure this out. You think you know me? You think you can read me and figure out what shit lives inside my head? You think you have superpowers?” He threw his arms up. “What other things do you think I happen to be, dobycha? A cutthroat murderer? A drug dealer? How about a rapist?” Running a harsh fingertip down the redness of his scar, he laughed. “Hang on, I guess I am a rapist after last night. Everything you think you know about me is tainted because of this. This scar—it makes you pity me and fear me.”
His shoulders bunched as he took a step forward. “You think you can guess how I got this? What I’ve done? Stop spinning your lies and fabricating stories. You’re so far off you’re in the realm of fantasy you’re embarrassing yourself. Do us both a favour and fuck off.”
His lips snapped shut. A metre separated us, keeping me safe from his seething rage.
Not once had he moved to grab or hurt me. Not once had he dropped his guard. All the while hating me for making him face the truth, he protected me by staying away.
Fatigue hit me and I sighed heavily. “You don’t trust yourself at all do you?”
He blinked at my whisper, so quiet after yelling.
My eyes met his, and I gave him a tiny smile. “Any normal person would touch and squeeze and manhandle each other in an intense argument, but you—you keep your distance. It’s not me you don’t trust—it’s yourself.”
He didn’t say a word, trembling in the wake of his terrible anger. Despite the colour flushing his neck and rage glowing in his eyes, he withheld his strict self-control. What would happen if I touched him? What would he do if I opened my arms and hugged him?
You’d die.
I knew it. As sure as the sun would set and rise again.
Silence fell between us, and my eyes dropped to his forearms. The jumper he wore had been pushed up, revealing corded muscle and scars.
Scars. Scars. Scars.
More than I could count. Some faded and silver, others red and healing. But it was the four straight and perfect lines seeping with bright red crimson that caught my attention.
I’d seen marks like that before. On another. I’d witnessed first-hand the fractured mind of an individual who sought pain to help remove the build-up of agony inside.
Clue was a self-harmer.
Over time, I’d helped her stop, but I would never forget walking into the kitchen one night and watching her drag a sharp blade over her skin. I’d shuddered in horror, but she’d breathed heavily in relief.
I hadn’t judged. I hadn’t said a word, but through friendship and support I helped her channel her pain into exercise and less destructive methods.
“You self-harm because you can’t deal with whatever lives inside you,” I murmured.
He choked on a swallow. Tense seconds ticked past before he took a small step toward me. His joints clicked from abuse past and new. Standing to his full height, he hissed, “Leave now before I do something I’ll regret.” His eyes flashed as he took another s
tep toward me.
I stepped away, keeping out of touching distance. My anger came back swift and hot. Waving at him, taking in his furiousness, I growled, “You think you can scare me? You’re wrong. I’ve dealt with worse than you. You’re kidding yourself with your dramatics.”
Fox exploded from tightly coiled weapon to shrapnel bomb. “Get the fuck out! Now!”
“No!”
“Leave!”
“Not until you hear me out.”
“There’s nothing to hear!” He gripped his head, tugging his hair. “Leave now. Leave! Fucking go!”
Every survival instinct in me wanted to obey, but I’d pushed him this far. “I understand you, more than you think.”
He laughed manically. “You? Miss perfect—the woman who has it all? Don’t make me prove how ridiculous you are. You’re a fucking chameleon with your lies and secrets.”
Cocking his head, he stared harder, going deeper inside me than anyone had before. I didn’t like how weak and insecure he made me. I didn’t like feeling that my house of lies would come tumbling down at any moment. I didn’t like being a specimen under scrutiny. “You think I don’t see you? You have a past, same as anyone—but it’s darker. You’ve done things others wouldn’t understand, but it doesn’t mean you know me. I don’t trust you, Hazel Hunter.” Moving forward, he pointed at the door behind me. “I won’t ask again. Final warning. Get the fuck out and leave me alone.”
I’d pushed hard, but I didn’t win. I’d done my best. Backing away, I narrowed my eyes. “You want me gone, fine. But you owe me. You owe me for whatever connection sprang between us last night. You felt it—same as me. You forced me to agree to your terms as you couldn’t ignore the call. What if that connection was the one thing that could help you? What if I’m the one person you’ve been searching for?”
I hadn’t meant to say that. It was presumptuous. It reeked of high-handed righteousness. I didn’t know if he felt the same draw. The same strange pull.
He reared back, knuckles going white from clenching his fists so hard. “Who the fuck are you to think you know me? You know nothing. Nothing! I don’t need your help. I don’t need your cure!” His voice changed from unrepentant anger to a slight thread of confusion. He stressed the word ‘cure’, slipping from Australian accent to something guttural, foreign, something that suited him far more than the falseness of his Australian twang.
I saw the truth. Clear as day. Everything I’d said had been real. Everything he tried to keep hidden came to light. “I’m not the only one lying. You are.” I tilted my head, eyeing him closely. It was as if answers came to me from nowhere. Seeing through his shadows and secrets, latching onto small snippets of truth. “I think you’re hiding from something and live in fear every day.”
Fox bristled and seethed and stewed.
All the caring, stupid instincts swelled, hoping he’d crack, wishing he’d let his walls down. This man didn’t need a woman to warm his bed. He needed a psychiatrist. I didn’t want to be near someone so toxic, but I couldn’t walk away either. “You owe me to let me help you.”
Fear suffocated my throat as he seemed to grow larger, adopting an icy exterior that gave no hint of remorse or humanity.
I froze, locked in his ferocious stare. Trouble was I couldn’t read him in that moment. He’d shut down, so all I saw was a cold man with a vicious streak amplified by the wicked scar.
He shuddered as his entire body went into lockdown. Muscles bunched beneath his clothing, his aura trembled with aggression and rebellion. “I owe you nothing,” he spit.
My heart raced. Truth screamed loud and clear. Somehow he earned the facial scar thanks to a debt gone wrong. He wasn’t a free man. He was owned by someone who either kept him on a tight leash, or abused him so much it wouldn’t take much more for him to snap.
Hardly breathing, I dropped my eyes to his trembling body. I wanted to figure out the dark damage lurking in his eyes.
My God. What happened to him?
My gaze zeroed in on his as if I was a compass needle and he was my north. I’d never suffered a phenomenon such as this. Never been so tuned to another. Perhaps we were kindred souls—linked by something past the realm of understanding. Kismet.
It’s too much. Too intense. Too dangerous.
I had Clara to protect and save—I had no reserves left for someone so deeply broken. It was time to cut him loose and forget—not just for my sanity, but my future as well. I hated that for the first time in forever, I felt weak. Weak because no matter how much I wanted to help him, I wouldn’t be able to. He was unsaveable.
Exhaling heavily, I let it out—forcing all my questions and curiosity out of my mind. My life was already complicated enough. I didn’t need to think about adopting a lost stray with a bite that would undoubtedly leave me in pieces.
“Forget it.” Dropping my voice to a whisper, I said, “I’ll go. But you should know I came back to give you a piece of my mind, but also to continue our agreement. I refuse to stay here for a month, but I was willing to spend my days with you. To give you what you wanted. Despite what I said—I did want you. I felt the same pull.”
His back rippled with tension. The air seemed to crackle and weep around him with a mixture of regret and self-loathing. For a moment, I thought he would throttle me. Reach out and grab my throat in his large hands and wring the air from my body. But then his anger diminished, flickering out to be replaced with utter coldness. “I don’t care. I never wish to see you again.”
Fuck him. I was done.
Whirling around, I stalked to the door. My anger crashed over me in a wave. I gave him my passion and offered a lifeline, and he threw it in my face.
The moment I walked out the door I never wanted to see him again. I wouldn’t be able to stand it. I needed to make sure the goodbye was final.
“Don’t ever come near me again, Fox. If I see, or hear, or find out you’ve come near, I won’t just hurt you.
“I’ll kill you.”
Chapter Ten
Roan
The day I completed the final phase of training, two things happened. They tattooed me with the mark of the highest operative, and I was informed of my inheritance. For years I’d lived in a cell inside a giant manor; I’d been told what to eat, told who to kill, and when to speak. I lived in the same black clothes all the recruits lived in. I followed the code.
Then they told me who I’d been before they stole me on my sixth birthday.
I wasn’t a pauper or a bum off the street like some of the other kids. I wasn’t middle class from a generic family.
Oh, no.
Turned out, I was twenty-fourth in line to the throne. My ancestors had been kings and queens; my family God-fearing and respected.
They told me I was to inherit a multi-million dollar fortune of property, jewellery, and cash.
My real name was Roan Averin, but none of that mattered.
It didn’t matter as I was a royal heir to a succession that no longer existed because I’d killed every last person from my bloodline. No one knew I was alive. No one knew I existed.
There was no one left.
Just me.
And I belonged to them.
* * *
“I’ll kill you.”
“Do it or I’ll kill you.”
“Obey or I’ll kill you.”
“Slaughter them or I’ll kill you.”
“Kill and sever and decapitate or I’ll kill you.”
The threat resonated in my head over and over and over.
Zel’s parting comment threaded with my past. “I’ll kill you.”
The small hold I had on my conditioning disintegrated, hurling me head first into darkness. My brain swam with memories of my faceless handlers. All I saw were waterfalls of red and slicing blades through flesh.
The urges sucked me deep and dark until I forgot I no longer lived that life. I was theirs. A nobody with no feelings or hopes or dreams. Worthless.
I’d been able
to control myself while arguing with Zel thanks to the pain in my joints. The beating Poison Oaks gave me kept me sane—barely. I’d kept my distance—hating her perception, her correct guesses all the while saving her from myself.
Her passion turned my cock stiff as a fucking pole. My blood raced to take her again—to make promises—to swear I could do better. To promise the next time I took her I’d be strong enough to touch her sweetly. But the pain wasn’t enough and every lash of her voice made me tremble, fighting my past.
I screamed and cursed for her own protection. I wanted her gone forever so I never had to worry about harming her.
But then she used the one sentence guaranteed to hurl me back in time.
“I’ll kill you.”
I groaned as the room swirled like a black hurricane, propelling me from safety to horror. The aliveness in my blood switched from wanting to protect Zel to wanting to kill her, and I could no longer ignore the call. The conditioning was too strong, too ingrained, too deep to reject.
The rules I’d been made to live by compounded in my skull, pounding with an insane headache. She was a weakness. She was an enemy. She knew too much.
She has to die.
My jaw ached from clenching so hard, and I howled like the wolves who’d kept me company all those lonely nights. The last of my humanity filtered away. I was about to kill the only person who might’ve had a chance at saving me.
And I couldn’t stop it.
Icy cold obedience flowed in my veins.
I launched at the woman intent on ruining me—intent on ripping my past and secrets from my broken corpse. She had the audacity to say she could fix me. There was nothing left to fix. I was a highly trained Ghost. She had to go.
Soon, she wouldn’t be a threat. Soon, she’d be dead.
She screamed as I grabbed her from the door and shoved her face first into the carpet.
My knees slammed against the floor on either side of her body; my hands wrapped around her throat. The unprotected muscles of her neck were an aphrodisiac to my need to obey. My need to kill.
