Page 38 of Truth Revealed

“I didn’t mean…” She trailed off, embarrassment flooding her and color rushing to her cheeks to match.

Why is he making this so hard?

As the answer dawned on her, she narrowed her eyes.

“So you’re telling me if it was one of the other guys who’d been on the same end of the blade you were, that it would be no big deal?”

His gaze darkened. Bingo.

“You don’t have to act like the big tough guy around me, you know. You’re allowed to have emotions. You’re allowed to feel things.”

A single brow arched. “I’m allowed to… feel things, huh?”

Cocking her head in confusion, Daria nodded. “Well… yeah.” She was about to say you’re human, but they weren’t really. What did that make them?

“I feel things, alright,” he remarked with a grunt, and his hand reached out, snatched her wrist, and pulled her down. She couldn’t move fast enough to catch herself, not with one wrist still in his grip, so she gracefully sprawled out across his chest. Her knees naturally parted to straddle his hips, the motion grinding her on top of his erection, which instantly thickened beneath her.

“Stop trying to distract me with sex,” she complained… in a voice that didn’t sound very convincing.

“Who’s distracting you with sex? I thought you wanted to cuddle,” he replied innocently.

Narrowing her eyes, she planted her palms on either side of his torso to lift herself up and pull one knee to the other side. Then, she wrapped an arm around his torso and laid down on the bed beside him. For a moment, she was distracted by the contrast of his dark, inked skin against her smooth, pale flesh. She shook herself back to the present.

“You’re right. I do want to cuddle. It’s the least you can do since you won’t talk to me.”

Honesty was the best defense, right? It was more like offense though, with the way he kept trying to throw her off his trail.

His arm cradled her against his side. “I’m okay,” he finally admitted.

“Okay. But if you’re ever not, I’m here,” she promised.

Not wanting to overwhelm Betrayal with too many emotions, she changed the subject to something she thought he might find more… bearable.

“Why would other demons be helping Pandora?” Daria wondered aloud. “Do you think she’s holding someone against them the way she held Sofia against Wrath?”

“That does seem to be her modus operandi. However, Daria, I think it’s time to accept that some people are just… not worth redemption. Some are just inherently… bad.” Betrayal’s voice was quiet, solemn, serious.

“You better not be talking about yourself,” she whispered with conviction, her fingers flexing where they rested over his abs.

A long pause seemed to take up all the space in the room. “And what if I am?”

Daria shoved a palm into his chest and pushed herself up until she leaned over him. “Are we back to this, really?” Exasperation was evident in her tone as she rolled her eyes at him. “You’ve got to forgive yourself. That was thousands of years ago.”

“Are you telling me you’ve forgiven yourself for the chaopados fiasco?”

Daria paused at that, tracing every inch of his face with her gaze. Those dark chocolate eyes, the knot between his brows, the firm set to his lips belying the casual tone he used.

“No, I haven’t forgiven myself,” Daria conceded, dropping her gaze to his chest, to her palm resting against his pec. “I killed people too, Betrayal. But eventually, I’ve got to move past it, right? Control my powers, curse, whatever you want to call it, and make sure it never happens again. Right?” He didn’t answer, not even when she flicked her blue eyes back up to his. They were clouded with something, some emotion she couldn’t quite read. So she continued, the words pouring out like an overdue confession. “But if you can’t forgive yourself after so long, what the hell does that mean for me? Am I still going to feel this…” She patted her chest while searching for the words. “This… soul-crushing guilt forever?”

Betrayal groaned as his arms came around her, pulling her down to his chest. Propping her chin right in the center, she stared up at him and in that moment, she was bare. Every emotion that fluttered through her was evident on her face. Her guilt and vulnerability, her anxiety and shame, and finally, fear.

“You make it really fucking hard to hate myself,” Betrayal grumbled.

“Then don’t,” she responded. “I don’t.”

“Don’t hate me?” His lips twisted into a forlorn smile as he stared at the ceiling.

“No. And you shouldn’t either. Think of this like your second chance,” Daria offered, a pleading note in her voice as she recalled the swatch of scarlet on his neck. “What if you… died tonight?” she challenged, forcing the words out. “You would have died with all that guilt weighing you down. And what good does it do?”