Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
When it’s over, we’re both left panting. I pull out of Blue as her grip on me loosens and I lay her down. Our eyes are locked and the way she looks at me is different. Is it fear? Fear at what she saw. The violence she knows me to be capable of. After witnessing the bloody mayhem I left behind with her own two eyes, how does she see me? Me, this killer she just begged to make love to her.
To make love.
Not fuck.
I did not miss her word choice.
And I made love to her the only way I know how. Hard and deep and painful. Pain plays along the knife edge of pleasure always with me. Does she understand this now?
Blue’s eyes never leave mine as I straighten to stand. I glance down to see come spill from between her legs before I pull the blanket over her. From the closet, I grab the first things I see, a pair of jeans and a shirt and pull them on. I walk into the bathroom where I left the shower running and switch it off. I wet a washcloth and carry that along with the first-aid kit beneath the sink back into the bedroom.
Blue hasn’t moved. She watches me return in that strange, new way.
She has seen the man beneath the mask. The beast. The killer.
Killing Wyatt the way I did, it was brutal. And, as sick as it sounds, my hands flex now at the memory of driving that nail into his eye. At gutting the animal like the pig he was.
Is this what she sees now? Why isn’t she repelled? And how can I talk of making love? I know what I am and now she knows it too. A furious, murdering monster. How can I utter the word love? How can I make love when none exists inside me? And to someone like her? She is innocent. She is desperate. She is alone. She is a stranger in a world of money and power and men willing and capable of murder.
This is my world. Not hers. My world where the stakes are life and death. What right have I to touch her with blood-stained hands?
“Zeke?”
I blink, pupils focusing on Blue.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I sit down beside her and place the washcloth between her legs to clean her.
She touches my cheek. I look at her. “Zeke. Where did you go just now?”
“Nowhere.” I drop the washcloth to the floor and get to work on her cuts, letting this other side of me take over. The boy who once wanted to be a surgeon. The one who wanted to do good. To care. To help.
“Zeke?” she asks as I clean a cut before bandaging it.
I glance at her, raise my eyebrows to signal for her to continue but turn my attention to the next cut.
“What is it?” she asks again, touching my face to make me look at her.
“Nothing. Just thinking. Turn on your stomach. The damage to your back was the worst.”
I work in silence and Blue lies still. Only when I’m finished do I realize she’s fallen asleep. I stand, look down at her face. She’s peaceful like this. Innocent. And young. Nineteen. What am I doing with her? What the hell am I doing making love to her? I have no business touching her. When I started this, wait, no, she started it sending that letter, but when I took her from The Cat House that first night, it was to confront my blackmailer. To handle the situation however I needed to. I wasn’t expecting Blue to be, well, Blue.
We’ve come a long way since that night.
I exhale, switch out the light. I need a drink. But when I turn to go, Blue’s hand closes around mine.
“Stay with me.”
“Sleep, Blue.”
I see her shake her head in the light coming in from the windows. “Stay with me. Just for a little while.”
“I need to talk to Robbie. Figure out—”
“I’m scared. I don’t want to be alone right now.” Her voice is quieter than I’ve ever heard it, her eyes red and wet. “Please, stay with me just until I fall asleep.”
I nod because hearing that she’s scared, well, there’s no way I can say no.
Not bothering to undress, I climb into the bed beside her and when she curls into me, I hold her. She lays her warm cheek against my chest. I feel the damp of her tears. I stare up at the ceiling, but I don’t say a word.
“Thank you for coming for me. Thank you for not forgetting me.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and listen to her soft, even breaths as she drifts off, exhausted, back to the oblivion of sleep.
To my surprise, I sleep. I’d only expected to stay until she was settled, but I sleep until I’m awakened by the sun and a glance at my phone tells me it’s a little after eight in the morning. It also shows me all the missed calls from my brother. I’ll deal with those soon enough.