Page 56 of The Devil’s Lair

“Of course.”

“Do you want children of your own one day? And if so, how will that work?” It’s probably a discussion we should have had before I said my vows. There’s no chance of conceiving naturally. The idea of intimacy makes me physically sick, and I know he feels the same.

“I would, yes, but only if you’re willing. As for how, there’s IVF, or even adoption if you don’t want to carry another child. It’s completely up to you. It could be nice for Isla to have a little brother or sister one day, though.”

Yeah, it would. Marcus despised being a father. He made it clear a couple of months after Isla was born that he didn’t want anymore kids, which, in hindsight, was a good thing. The poor soul would’ve been one more person for Marcus to torture.

“I think I’d like that. One day.”

“Only when you’re ready. We’re both young. There’s plenty of time.”

I peer up at him.

“What?” he asks.

“Why are you so nice to me?”

His eyes briefly close, and when they open, they’re swimming with an emotion I can’t place. He rubs a hand over his lips and gives a small shake of his head, then glances at Isla. She’s out for the count.

“If your husband wasn’t dead, I’d kill him with my bare hands. You deserve kindness, compassion, and so much more, Rebecca. You are worthy of all those things.”

I don’t feel worthy. I feel like an empty husk.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, ducking my head. “I don’t mean to keep asking the same question over and over. You’re probably fed up with me.”

He scrapes a hand through his hair. “Please listen to me and truly hear me. I’m not fed up with you. I won’t get fed up with you. You don’t need to apologize to me. Ask as many questions as you need to, even if you’ve asked them before. I know trust will take time to build, but I hope that one day, you can trust me not to hurt you, because I won’t. Ever. You’re safe with me. Safe from harm, from abuse, from fear. I promise I’ll show you that every day until you believe it in your heart.”

He smiles, lips closed. “You and I are such similar souls, Rebecca. The only difference is you know why you’re the way you are. I’m not there yet. Not sure I ever will be.” He shrugs.

“You mean the touching thing?”

His lips clamp shut, like he’s realized he’s shared too much.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

His nostrils flare as he draws a deep breath. “The idea of intimate skin-to-skin contact is”—he shudders—“abhorrent. Nauseating. The worst thing that could ever happen to me.”

“Was it always like that?”

“For as long as I can remember, yeah.” He takes another look at Isla, then jerks his chin at her door. “Let’s leave her to sleep. I don’t want our chatter waking her up.”

I look at her one last time, brush a thick curl off her forehead, then follow Tobias into the living room.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asks.

“I’m good. I’m all champagned out.” I kick off my shoes and sit on the couch.

“Would you prefer it if I left you alone?”

“No, I’d like you to stay. If you want to.”

“I want to.” He sits next to me on the couch. “I wish I could explain my situation more, except I don’t understand it myself.”

He stands up, takes off his jacket, and tosses it over the back of the sofa. “Over the years, I’ve tried dating men and women, but the intimacy problems remained the same no matter who I was with. Eventually, I just stopped trying. That’s when the idea of The Lair came to me. That place saved my sanity in more ways than I can count.”

“So… you’re not gay?”

His thumb plays with a loose thread on his cuff. “I think sexuality is more fluid than the labels society puts on us.” He shrugs. “I could be gay. I could be straight. I could be bisexual or asexual. All I know is the person doesn’t matter. It’s the touch I can’t bear.”