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He sent another message from the small keypad in his hands to the speakers, and they delivered it. “I don’t want to hear any more from you.”
I almost felt sorry for him. He had a weakness, too, and the look on his face, hidden beneath all the agitation I caused, told me he hated that. Hated that he had no voice.
He headed for the door, his ass looking too good in his gym shorts. His naked back looked just as hot, with the sweat glistening between his shoulder blades.
I cursed myself for thinking such things, turning away with tears in my eyes. Because while I lusted over him, he was wishing I was dead. Wishing for another woman to breathe the air he believed I was stealing. For this heart in my chest to pump her blood. Blood that would heat under his touch, just like mine did.
I felt sick. Another tear rolled down my cheek as the door clicked shut. The back of my hand wiped it away. How I had any tears left to cry was beyond me.
But at least I waited until he left the room to do it.
I fingered the button to turn on the TV, needing a distraction from the noise in my head and the arguments between one animal and another still going on.
Happy smiles filled the screen as a home video portraying love started playing. Long blonde waves blowing in the breeze of early autumn. She ran through leaves, chased by love...by the man who gifted that emotion with his whole heart. By Mercer.
My heart cracked, and pain shot through my chest. I rubbed it away and turned the channel to another recording...another season. Winter. Snow fell from above, and a large pond iced over. She skated, her forward spin, perfect, her hair, face, and smile, all perfect. She didn’t deserve to die...
And watching her, I started to feel like Mercer was right. I didn’t deserve to live.
Chapter 13
Mercer
Guilt clung to me like sweat, making my gym shorts feel heavier as they clung to my body. I walked with heavy feet around my room. I stomped back to apologize for launching the remote at her.
I froze with my hand on my doorknob as a migraine formed behind my wide eyes. It had been a long fucking day, one that I had been happy to burn off in my gym before my ears alerted me that she had fallen from the fucking bed.
Her anger had ignited mine. It didn’t take much after the deal I wanted fell through this evening. I was so close to detouring to Feebee’s house on my way home. So tempted to slit her father’s throat and wash away my stress in his blood.
Yeah…I was that angry. And he was still on my kill list. So many others had gone before him in recent months, all in painful ways. All destroyed completely so no one would find any trace of them. Stefan Serrano was the last person on my kill list—the man who had started this nightmare by requesting a heart for his daughter from someone living and breathing.
Guilt flooded my stomach again. Feebee’s face flashed in my mind, her innocence and beauty calling to my darkness, wanting to ruin her...in so many ways.
I pushed her from my mind, guiding thoughts back to the man who created her. The man who hadn’t gone to the papers with an appeal to find his missing daughter because I’d been checking daily.
He deserved to die...for being a shitty parent, which made no sense, as he had hunted the globe for a fast-track heart transplant for the same daughter he had stopped caring for the second she was out of sight.
Something wasn’t right there.
My nostrils flared in anger, only returning to their natural shape when I saw him in blood, a slice across his throat, and gashes around his untoned stomach, where my blade protruded from.
My bloodstained dreams were interrupted by the sound of night. Owls threatened the smaller birds, who fretted and screamed over the fear of being eaten. I closed the heavy drapes, shutting them out.
I was on my bed, crumpled sheets gathered beneath me. I couldn’t say how the fuck I got here. The memory was gone, along with so many others.
Again, I thought of her. Her and her shiny blunt-cut hair, her fucking fingers and how they had touched me, nails dragging over tattoos and muscle. Her eyes and how they looked when I brought the light back into them down in the cell...and how they looked yesterday when I took it away again.
She fucking hated me.
And I couldn’t blame her.
But it felt so much better when she didn’t.
It muted my pain. Made the tension causing pains in my neck lessen. Amplified the ache in my cock, but I could deal with that.
I needed to see her. I needed to see her now, without the anger we brought out in each other every time we existed in the same room.
And I could.
