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Yeah, no shit.
“For what it’s worth,” he goes on, “that’s just one of about a million secrets inside my head, any one of which could be very dangerous to various people, that I don’teverplan on sharing with anyone. So, you can relax.”
He coughs.
“Give me a week or two. I’ll see what I can dig up connecting Kir to the Lindqvist family, or what happened to yours.”
I nod slowly. “Thanks, Oren.”
“Be well, Mal.”
I hang up, my pulse racing. I’m walking a dangerous tightrope here. Investigating someone as powerful as Kir could get me killed. That’s partly why I didn’t do it before.
But now, I have an even bigger reason.
The truth is clawing its way to the surface. And once I uncover it, there’s no going back.
27
FREYA
The distancebetween us is unbearable, but I’m trying not to admit that.
It’s been days since I’ve seen Mal, and his absence feels like a slow, creeping ache. It’s ridiculous, really. But no matter how I try to push him out of my mind, the memory of the other night keeps pulling me back.
Or rather,dragging me back, by the hair, and then fucking me into oblivion.
Whatever that was with him that last time was fuckinginsane. I’ve been sore and covered in bruises for days. My wardrobe suddenly exclusively features turtlenecks, hoodies with the hoods bunched up around my neck and scarves, to cover the marks from what looks like a fucking chain and tire iron attack to my neck.
I had to tell Hana I fell awkwardly getting out of the bathtub. For fuck’s sake, I’ve been wearingpantylinersbecause of how fucking raw my poor pussy still is.
And yet?
…Worth it. All. Fucking. Worth. It. Best sex of my life. Okay, that’s a low-to-non-existent bar. But I’d venture to say best sex ofanyone’slife.
Ifyou’re into playing rough, that is. Really,reallyfucking rough.
Like, the sort of rough I shouldmaybebe a little more scared of, given how unhinged Mal is.
I could lie to myself and say that’s why I’ve kept my distance since that night. But that’s not even the littlest bit true. It’s not because I’m scared ofhim.
I’m scared ofme. I’m scared of what this all means to me.
I’m the one who left the other night. After the sex, and after he’d given me a hoodie and gone to get water, I ran. Or more like staggered, wincing, back to the main house.
I had to.
Mal made it perfectly clear before any of that happened that what we had wasn’t going to be anything serious. No strings, no complications. No emotions. He’s “not capable of that”, I believe his words were.
And I told myself I was fine with that. Iamfine with that. I’m not some lovesick girl pining for more, not from a dangerous, emotionally screwed-up man who’s possibly—or probably—a psychopath.
I mean…whycan’tit just be fun? Why can’t I just enjoy him and the frankly life-altering sex without wanting more? He makes me feel incredible, and fucks like agodwith the Devil’s cock.
I refuse to be “that girl.” The one who gets attached. I’m smarter than that. Stronger than that.
Besides, I should be staying a continent away from someone like Mal. So the fact that the opportunity here is to be able to sleep with him without any strings binding me to him?
That’s arguably for the best. No mess, no heartbreak, just...whatever this is.
