“Reed Spencer.”
Her mouth drops open. “Reed? But how do you—Where? When?”
I look for signs that it bothers her, but all I see is confusion. “I learned everything about him the moment I knew you were involved with him.”
“Why?”
“You know why, Camryn.”She steps closer, and I shiver when she touches my chest. Sighing, I hang my head, and I tell her more of my secrets. “Because he touched you, Camryn. Because from the second I saw you across that fucking pool, I’ve wanted to kill any man who was near you. The fact that his cock was inside you was enough of a death sentence, but when he dared to put his hands on you, his time was at an end.”
She tilts up my chin, and I grit my teeth from her touch. “The day at the apartment. When he and I got in a fight?” The realization is in her eyes. She’s finally seeing the breadth of my fixation on her.
“Yes,” I confirm.
“What did you do to Reed?”
“What he deserved.” Agitated at seeing her, at wanting her, I dig into my pocket for a cigarette, needing something to touch other than her. “Any transgressions against you won’t be tolerated.”
“I want the details, Stone. No more secrets.”
I blow the smoke out of my nose, savoring the burn in my nostrils. “I cut off both his hands.” I let the statement rest there, figuratively standing between us. Another drag on the cigarette fills my lungs; I blow it into the sky, and some of my nerves settle. I head to my desk and stub the half-finished cigarette into the ashtray.
Her voice quavers. “Is that all?”
“No. I burned his fingers until they became charcoal. I watched them smoke and char until they were nothing more than ash. Then I took the dust from his burned bones and mixed it in paint. I used the ash so I could ink it into my skin.” I start unbuttoning my shirt, watching her face as I shrug it down over my arms, until my chest is bared to her. She moves forward, and her fingers tentatively touch my skin. I want her hands all over my body. The only hands touching me. “I gave the leftovers to you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, Countess. I wantedto watch you open the gift. The night you sketched me, sketched us fucking, you used his severed fingers to do it.”
I expect each confession to change her reaction. To change the way she looks at me, but she keeps steadily staring.
“The gift. The set of charcoal and paints. Those were from you?”
“Yes.”
Her nail outlines the new tattoo on my chest. Onyx finished it last week. It’s still tender; the protective covering has been removed. I watch as she slowly moves her finger down the dagger with my name on the blade. The blade is embedded in the skull. An owl stands, perched on the hilt, and underneath are 47 tally marks. The newest line is still pink around the edges.
“When did you get it?”
“After I finished with him.”
“Reed?”
“No. The man who took you.”
I take her hand, knowing she may look at me in disgust when she knows the extent of who I am, what I am. I hold it over my heart. I don’t lie or skirt around the truth. “I disemboweled him and cut out his heart, tongue, and eyes. I removed his genitals and scrotum.”
She sucks in a breath, her fingers pause, lifting off my skin. Her eyes meet mine, and she stares at me, those gorgeous green eyes looking deep into mine.
“I burned them and consumed them.”
“What does that mean, Stone?”
“I ate his ashes.”
I wait for her horror, her rejection. She doesn’t say a word, and I keep going, needing her to know. “Then I skinned him, removing his skin. I dragged his body out into my forest and left the rest for the scavengers to eat. There are countless bodies?—”
“On the property.”
