Page 47 of The Price Of Possession

“No,” I reply honestly. It was the only way to protect her. She may not see it that way but so be it. Her eyes snap open. Hatred fills her system, but it's gone in an instant, replaced with a probing gaze. She slides her hand over my scars. My breathing stops. I shut down. She doesn't need to know the depths of my depravity, or how deep it runs in my veins. Maybe that shit is obvious. Her eyes are a warning, taunting my beast like a tempting disaster I cannot refuse. She's the best high. A thrilling pleasure queen. If this is what it takes to bring down Mortensen, while keeping her at my side, I’ll do it no matter the cost.

Her body molds to mine as if she's meant to be at my side, and fuck, she is. We're gonna be the death of each other, and I accept it knowing nothing could bring us closer than the inevitable moments of our systematic downfall. I'll do everything in my power to prevent it. Though if we are destined to die, our last breaths will be together.

“I'd be a shit father,” I announce, hoping that gives her some semblance of understanding as to why I allow my sick ideations to control me. She remains unreadable. I chuff. “You know, he wanted a perfect son. Someone to carry on his legacy. He commands respect and power. Always has. I don't do well being controlled as you know, Nightshade. He hates my disobedience. These scars are reminders of my defiance. I'm a fighter sweetheart, not a lover.” I click my tongue, unease filtering through me because opening up isn't what I do.

I keep my struggles to myself. No need to air out my shit. I already knew from a young age my contumacy will be the death of me. I'll never be a man worthy of her either, but no one else will have her but me. Her eyes soften. It's almost refreshing if I were more sentimental. “You two are more alike than you realize.”

Her words make me grimace. I can't tell if it's an insult or observation. She's right. My distaste doesn't make it any less true. I guess my old man somewhat succeeded in molding me into his minion. She's worried about being destroyed by me as she should be. I'm cruel, callous, and vicious. She's hardly scratched the surface of my ruthless malevolence, but I always get what I want and, in the end, I'll embrace my inner beast to rise to the top in this fucked world.

“Yeah,” I shake out.

She turns to me. She wets her pouty lips. My eyes fall to the swell of her cupid's bow. My cock swells. The guy has a mind of his own when it comes to her. The fact I almost lost her is enough to break me. “But you're also different,” she murmurs. A deep husky laugh reverberates from my throat. “Is that so, Nightshade?” My eyes skim over her features openly. No reason to hide my desire toward her. She's a goddess and I intend to indulge her endlessly like a king.

Her eyes return the same feverish desire. Her state of mind is being altered. Could be the medicine still in her system. Could be my charm, either way I'll use every bit to my advantage. My insides coil into self-satisfaction. “For someone who doesn't like darkness and danger, you sure like mine, sweetheart.” I tease my tongue along the shell of her ear. She lets out the most delicious gasp. I almost rip at her loose shirt. I want her bruised body to sink onto my cock. Anything to drown out the reality of the chain of events that has unfolded. No way her body is healed from me.

Her sweet voice fills my ears. “I'm fucked up and broken. I shouldn't want you. I shouldn't crave this—” she shakes her head over and over like it'll get the idea of us out of her pretty little head. Not a chance, Nightshade. I'll be your darkest bestial desire until we die.

And again, I find myself drawn to her mouth. So, I silence her useless ramble with a biting kiss.

My mind is an endless labyrinth of mazes. My heart is being pulled one direction, my mind another. His presence is suffocating. His love is a drug I undoubtedly need to function. The longer I allow this to go on, the more I grow addicted. Like my little pills, he sends me into a spiraling madness I never want to escape. Only the reality he offers seems obtainable, but not sustainable. Sure, I can find a sense of closure and a new chapter, but the idea of us is absurd. I worry for my stability. I worry about my ability to walk away unscathed because the reality of the situation is that we are like oil and water. It will never work even if it was something we both wanted.

He knows I'm fragile, easily manipulated, and breakable. His words are just that. Empty and filled with false promises. The illusion will shatter around me in a million pieces once he has gotten what he wants. Vengeance. He can spin it anyway he chooses but the fact of the matter is this is for him, not me as he's stated. I see right through his illusion.

Being the stupid bitch I am, I melt into his touch. His lips taste like regret and desperation wrapped into a messy fucked up bow. He swallows my soft cries. Before he can undress me the door swings open. Kieran rips himself away from me. A man I've never seen before strolls through the room, unfazed by our actions. Zain and Vesper trail behind him. Their eyes fall to Kieran and I.

Zain releases a heavy snort. “Never took you for the type to make out like a sloppy teenager.”

Kieran scowls as he rises to his feet. He discreetly adjusts his jeans. “Fuck you, man.”

Zain shoots him a teasing glance but doesn't press him further. I scoot up higher on the bed pulling the blankets over my exposed skin. Vesper nestles on the edge of the bed while Kieran joins the guys on the other side of the room. Her glassy eyed stare falls on me. It's clear she has been crying. “You ok?” she asks. I should be asking her the same.

Am I ok?

No, not really, but neither is she. Having Mortensen as a father would make me physically ill, and yet somehow she is holding it together. I envy how strong she has become with the help of Zain. I'm selfish. I frown, feeling like a disappointment. So much so she can't bear to look at me.

I purse my lips and swipe a stray section of hair behind my ear. “I'm a lot, Vesp. I know it. I never wanted to open up on how truly messed up I am. I don't like unloading my problems on others. I'm sorry if I'm adding to your life, especially right now.” She shakes her head vehemently, shutting my rambling down. “No, don't you dare downplay what happened or your emotional state. This isn't your fault. This is Kieran's. He is destructive, destroying anyone and anything in his path. He's on a warpath with Mortensen, and unfortunately you're the one in the crossfire.”

I pick at a loose thread on the blanket. My eyes fall back to Kieran. His eyes hold a sinister terror that has me on edge.

“I love him.” I confess under my breath, but loud enough for Vesper to hear me. “Clara. You've been through a lot. We both have. It's okay to be confused,” she rushes out, probably assuming I'm making hasty unsafe choices again. God knows I'm known for it. “I am still coming to terms with who I am, too. The daughter of a monster. I mean I'm in love with my brother . . .” she huffs.

All of this has been so much to take in. I choose my words carefully.

“It doesn't define you. You two are meant for each other in this fucked up world. No one else could show him love the way you do, Vesp. But I know none of what I said makes sense. Nothing in my life ever has, but after probing through his iron walls and slowly piecing Kieran together, I think he's also had a fucked up life. Just like Zain.”

She blinks and releases a breath, probably trying to gather if I'm still high on sedatives. This is the first time I've defended his psychotic behavior. “He's different. He sterilized you, Clara,” she scoots closer. “Kieran's past is . . .” she motions with her hands, “ . . . complicated to say the least. Maybe more so than Zain's. He may never let you in. He will always be this way. I know Mortensen terrorized him as a child, but I'm sure it runs deeper than he will ever let on. I mean that's gotta fuck with a person. You need to understand what you're getting into if you choose this path,” she explains carefully like I've lost my marbles. Hell, maybe I have. I reflect on her words a little longer.

“I've gathered he never had a mother figure. Mortensen made sure of that. He spent all those years fucking women in the Void thinking there would be no repercussions for his actions. The fact he could toss his wife away like garbage, he could father multiple children while secretly killing them all. It's abhorrent. He expects Kieran to follow in the same footsteps. Mortensen's mistakes are going to cost him everything. He will pay for what he's done to you, Kieran, his mother, and his other sister.” I promise. I know I have no business getting involved, but a part of me feels sympathy.

“You're just as much a victim of Mortensen and the Void as we are,” she points out.

Maybe I am, but as always I put myself last.

Time goes by quickly. Vesper and I have the meaningful conversation we've always needed. Kieran shoots me the occasional glance across the room, urgency in his eyes. After a few more minutes he slinks back over to my bedside while everyone shuffles out. His eyes instantly fall to me, transfixed by every breath I take. He pulls at the collar of his Henley, sliding it over his head. The intensity of his gaze makes my heart pound. My eyes scan the intricate artwork etched into his skin, dragging over every scar. Part of me wonders what the stories are of each one. Goosebumps break out over my body.

“Relax. I'm not going to fuck you. You're too prone to infection. The doctor has you on pills. I needed you to see me,” he rumbles, his voice cracks with vulnerability. My strength has returned. I slide off the bed and into his waiting arms. He accepts me into his embrace. “I want you to know you've got all of me.” He whispers along my skin making the hairs prickles. This softness to his tone is unnerving. I've grown accustomed to his asshole nature.

“You're beautiful,” I murmur against his bare chest. He lets out a growly rumble making his sternum vibrate. “Nah, Nightshade. I'm far from beautiful. I'm a killer. I'm destructive. A deadly sinner.” His shaking fingers weave into my mussed hair. He may be those things, but I know like me, who he is isn't his fault. I've watched him fall.