Page 130 of Knight’s Retribution

“I’m sorry you had to see that, my darling. I know that must have been painful, but you needed to see the truth. You needed to know that Rocco never really cared about you, not the way I do. I want to give you everything your heart desires, fulfill your wildest dreams and fantasies. His power doesn’t come close to mine, Kyler. He could never give you what I can.”

Diemos didn’t understand love. Or why he couldn’t just win her affection with promises of everything she could ever want. He didn’t understand why his power didn’t seem to impress her.

She made herself look into his eyes again. “I thought…I thought he cared. I’d obviously been wrong, and it…hurts.”

Diemos grabbed her jaw in a bruising hold and tilted her head back. “You still love him?”

Yes. And she always would, even if the images Taren showed her were real. Kyler didn’t say that, though. She shook her head instead. “How can I, after what I saw?”

No, an evil bastard like Diemos had no idea what love was, or how the heart worked. Watching the person you loved with everything in you betray you, real or not, didn’t automatically take those feelings away. “But knowing I meant so little to him, it does hurt, I won’t deny that.”

He slid his hand to the back of her head and pulled her against him. “I’m glad you told me the truth.” He looked down at her. “But you must push him from your mind. You have me now, and I would never do that to you.” Then he wrapped his arms around her in a bruising hold. So tight, always so tight, like he was afraid she’d slip away, or vanish.

She didn’t hug him back, because again, that was too much, too soon, but instead of trying to pull away, like she usually would, like she desperately wanted to now, she let him hold her.

Chapter 4

Rocco made it a point to avoid the compound. This was not somewhere he wanted to be, not anymore. It felt like a lifetime since he’d lived here, since he was the male who had helped with the demi they brought in, since he’d joked and fought and trained alongside his brothers.

And honestly, he didn’t want to be here now.

It was still early, quiet, as he made his way to his apartment and let himself in, shutting the door behind him. He stood there, unmoving, taking in the living room.

The changes he’d made to this place. He’d done his best to turn the apartment from the crash pad it had always been, to a home—a home for his mate.

The couch still had fucking plastic on it, the new cushions to go with it stacked beside it. The rug he’d bought to match still rolled up and leaning against the wall. He’d wanted to keep everything perfect and new for Kyler. For when he brought her home.

His gut tightened as he moved through to the bedroom. His new bed was unmade, he’d only slept in it a few times. The new sheets, duvet cover set, a stack of new pillows, and some fluffy fucking blanket that Mia had made him get sat on a chair to the side, unopened as well.

The male who’d bought all this shit had been so fucking excited, so filled with hope and happiness. That male didn’t exist anymore.

Rocco hadn’t been back here since they took Ky from him, and he didn’t know why the fuck he was here now. Maybe to torture himself a little more, to drive the knife in a little deeper and twist.

Because Kyler should be here now, walking out of the bathroom to greet him, smiling, wrapped in a towel after using some of the bath shit she loved. He’d stocked up on that for her as well.

On autopilot, he moved into the connecting room and opened the cupboard under the basin. Bottles filled with pastel-colored lotions and liquids were lined up where he left them, and he lifted one now, flicked it open, and breathed in deep.

Kyler’s favorite lotion. How many times had he lain in bed in her tiny apartment and watched her smooth it over her skin after her shower? How many times had he pulled her back into bed with him right after?

Images slammed into him, and he dropped the bottle, grabbing for the edge of the vanity.

His fracturing mind couldn’t deal with the loss and conjured up an image so real, so fucking real, of her standing in front of him, all he could do was stand there and soak it up, sink deeper into the madness. His subconscious was giving him what he wanted because the pain of living without her was too fucking much.

He stumbled forward a step, hand outstretched, and tried to touch her.

The image vanished, dissolving, falling through his fingers like tendrils of colored smoke.

Fuck, not yet. Not now.

Christ, everything in him wanted to go back to the alley now, to claw at the brick wall there until the portal opened by sheer will alone. So he could go to her, so he could bring her home.

His hand came up, and he clutched at his head, gritting his teeth as his demon writhed in agony. He had to keep a grip on his sanity. He couldn’t let go. He would never let go. He was going to get her back—he had to.

Which was the reason he’d forced himself to return here.

He strode through the living room and out the door again, pulling it shut behind him before he lost it completely, and carried on down the hall.

Christ, nerves actually churned in his stomach when he reached Gunner’s door.