“And?” Malcolm soothes, tone low and inviting. Practiced, really. It’s a practiced tone. A coercing one. A lull. A lure. I’m positive he uses it to get his way with…well, with everyone.
But it still works.
“And I don’t know who I think I’m trying to fool.” I look at him. “I don’t understand what’s going on. I’ve never liked you. Not even a little bit. I’ve wanted to hurt you. But I don’t have the nerve to commit. I’ve always been like this. Confused and confusing. I’m either too much, and hurt myself, or I’m nothing. Not eventoo little. Just plainnothing. As nothing as a blank slate. A white page. Or…emptiness.”
“I don’t think you’re nothing.”
“And I don’t trust you, so what you think doesn’t matter much to me. There’s no reason for you to really want anything to do with me at all. I keep…coming back to that. I’m a lot. And yet I’m nothing. There is no reason for you to actually want to deal with me when I bring nothing good to the table, which means this must be another one of your stupid games.” And, here I am, the idiot falling for it. Yet again.
“Ouch. What a mean opinion you harbor about me.”
“What do you expect with the way you’ve treated me?” I mutter. “If I’m wrong about you, make me believe it. Convince me you’re not what I think.”
His fingertips graze the scarf he’s been wearing to cover the bruises I left on him, and he lowers his attention to the sidewalk. “I suppose I’ve felt a kinship with you. We taste the same.”
Every atom in me revolts at such an accusation, and—yet—I’m horrified by the potential.
He’s a monster who toys with his food. I’m one who feels nothing until it’s too late, and my prey winds up shredded between my teeth.
I am, after all, trying to kill him.
And only monsters are capable of such cold-blooded murder.
I guess I really am what I’ve always thought:bad. And wrong. And worthless.
While that understanding chills me, he continues, “You think you’re nothing, but to me, you’re everything. I don’t treat everyone the way I treat you, you know.”
“Because not everyone is your subordinate,” I croak into the dimming rays around us. “You know you can get away with it with me.”
The flickering streetlights cast an inhuman gleam across Malcolm’s profile. “I have loads of subordinates. I don’t care to ‘get away with it’ with any of them. You’re special.”
“Your favorite toy,” I hiss.
“Myfavorite, dove.” He looks at me. Smiles. It’s soft and gentle. Not monstrous at all. “You’re my favorite. And if you’re all or nothing, I want the all. No matter how it shows up. No matter what it looks like or how it hurts. I wanttoo muchof you.” He cups his hand to the back of his neck, and his smile tilts, almost shy. “I don’t think I’m as good at manipulation as you think I am. Because if I were, I’d know how to fill you with joy until you burst.”
I face him, squarely, teeth gritted. “Don’t you dare try and convince me now that you want mehappy. After everything you’ve done, all the stunts you’ve pulled, all the things you’ve said. You’re messed up. You want to control me.”
He reaches, lifting a lock of my hair to his filthy lips. “I do. But that’s certainly not the only thing I want.”
Darkness swallows us when the streetlight above flickers off.
Malcolm doesn’t lift his attention off me, and my eyes slowly adjust—to pinpoint the figure of a large man in black holding a knife behind Malcolm.
My eyes widen, but I remain perfectly still as Malcolm’s gloved hand frames my cheek. “I love you,” he says. “Whatever you are—good or bad—be it with me.”
Whatever I am…is a woman who sees a man about to be murdered…andsmiles.
Chapter Fifteen
?
Maybe someday I’ll unpack being attracted to a woman willing to stab me. But not today.
Malcolm
So. Azalea still hates me, I guess. In a very big way. She said absolutely nothing as Anthony came up behind me. Worse, shesmiled. I’ve only seen that precious, perfect little smile of hers once before. Through the camera I planted on Anthony when I sent him to “recruit her to kill me.” The idea of me being deadreallymakes her happy, doesn’t it?
That stings. A bit.
