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“It’ll determine how painful his death will be.”
I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t form any words at all.
“Tell me,” he pushed. “Fucking. Tell. Me.”
Cold tears ran from me. “He would rape me,” I stuttered, and something like understanding brushed over me with Mercer’s fingers.
“You said you were a virgin. I was sure you were.”
In a low voice laced with shame, I told him, “He didn’t use that hole.” My eyes finally moved back to his, and I didn’t like what I saw. It scared me because it was so hateful and full of desire, the desire...to kill.
I tried to shift away, my hands pushing his soggy chest. He stopped me from moving, one hand wrapping around both of my wrists tightly.
“Since you were little?”
I shook my head. “Since the transplant. Practically as soon as I got home, I was abused. I fought and fell from the bed, but he didn’t care. He forced himself on me. I remember panicking, thinking I could catch an infection as my bandages frayed against the floor.” I tensed, penetrative phantoms haunting me. “My father wasn’t there anymore to protect me, and my uncle always had a dark side.”
“The man at the house isn’t your father?” Mercer was surprised, but of course, the voice didn’t indicate that.
I shook my head, finally ready to tell him more about my personal life. “My father was killed when I had the transplant. My uncle said it was something to do with a late payment with some dodgy people.”
“The traffickers?”
The heart in my chest sank, guilt pulling it down. “He died because of me. That’s why I can’t talk about him.” Tears welled in my eyes, desperate to get out and escape the pain inside me. “He tried to save me, and I never got to see him again.” My hand brushed my chest, coaxing a steady beat. “It’s all my fault.”
“You’re the only innocent party in this. You and Chandelle.”
Chandelle...it always came back to her. It always would.
The light from the foyer highlighted her shrine. She had decorated this place. I knew that much. I knew it because all the colors in the house matched those she wore in the videos I saw of her. And not a fucking thing had been changed.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“You asked me to.”
I nodded. “I told you, you could kill me instead.”
A smile hiked up the right side of his mouth, making him look more dangerous and beautiful at the same time.
“Why would I want to do that?”
I didn’t answer, sitting in silence for a minute that felt more like an hour.
“I’m never gonna be her. Her heart keeps me alive, but it’s not hers anymore.”
“I know.”
“And I know I’m not what you want.”
“Am I what you want?” His eyebrow raised again, and his gaze trapped my soul, asking the question before the voice caught up.
My lack of reply said enough. His tender touch manipulated me into talking.
“You shouldn’t be. You kidnapped me. You tricked me. You led me in under a false pretense, fed me a lie, and I liked the taste. Of you. But when I kiss you, you long for someone else. Wishing for the taste of another.
“I hate that. I hate that you made me love you before I even knew you. And I know how stupid that sounds.” Especially when what I did know were all horrible things. But spending time with only one person, day in, day out, made it feel like you’ve been with them so much longer.
“You’re in love with another woman. And for everything I feel for you, you can’t give me anything back.”
