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“It’s different because I’m nurturing her madness, not creating it. In the end, she’ll need me, but I’ll need her too.”
“Wow. what an extremely fucked up way of getting to I love you.”
I hoisted Amber over my shoulder with a laugh, letting her blonde hair dangle aimlessly. “But worth it.”
I balanced the glass of Macallan on the piano’s hood and sat down. I’d saved someone’s life in exchange for taking two others. I didn’t feel guilt or sorrow for those women. I never did. Not for the men either. They were all worth more dead than they’d ever be alive.
But this wasn’t about the money.
I had plenty of cash through the legitimate operations at Dream Garden as well as investing. Organ harvesting was a pandora’s box. My grandfather had handed it down to my father and he was passing it to me.
We were saviors in a sense, angels of death that gave back with every life we took. The ones receiving these parts would live on in place of their donors, getting a real chance to thrive. We were doing a good thing. I felt compelled to ensure the cycle continued for a bit longer. At least until I reclaimed what my father should have never given away.
In other respects, the trail of broken women was nothing more than a hobby turned addiction—a need to see how far I could warp a mind before it caved in on itself. Perhaps, searching for someone a little like me too. No one wants to be all alone.
Catalina was similar in that regard. She was lonely too. She didn’t fit in with the rest of the world. Now she wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.
I took a sip of my drink, the way it burned going down was a welcome sensation. Placing it back on the hood, I relaxed into my seat, lightly brushing my fingers over the keys before me. It was nearing one in the morning. I could’ve gone straight to bed. I’d found my way in here instead. How long had it been since I sat in the dark and unwound like this?
After discarding bodies and cleaning up blood, a little Midnight Sonata did the mind wonders.
It was a classic.
A piece even those unknowledgeable of piano music should know. Not as grand or moving as Sociopath or Duet, but still beautiful.
My love for the piano began when I was just a boy. I think it was around eleven my parents knew I was gifted, albeit different from other kids my age. It was a blessing and a curse. The inside of my mind could get to be too overwhelming sometimes.
My mother suggested an outlet.
I wasn’t one for sports or clubs, so my grandfather sat me down and taught me to use one of these beautiful creations to express myself. Each time I sat down I was accepting an invitation for my soul to tell its tale with something that predated any other language and words. An invitation that never expired and lacked the necessity to give something in return.
I began to play almost hesitantly, the music becoming more vivid and fluid as the melody cleared everything away from my mind, but the story it wanted to tell of tonight.
CHAPTER FIVE
The heat pressing my back woke me up.
My brain told my eyes to open, the action delayed by the heaviness of my lids. Thick darkness greeted me. I blinked to try and get a better idea of where I was. I pushed myself into a sitting position as the memory of my sister’s death rose to the forefront of my mind.
Belatedly realizing I was nearly naked and in Alaric’s bed, I looked over and saw he was the culprit of the heat.
My eyes further adjusted, revealing he was sleeping soundlessly. He was shirtless, hands braced behind his head. How could he climb into this bed after drugging me? How bold was he to lay right here?
Then again, I suspected he knew I would never hurt him. It was hard for me to understand myself, adding him to the equation made everything that much more complicated. Not only did I not want to harm him. I couldn’t. Hurting him physically was the furthest thing from my mind or list of agendas.
I only wanted to be free of him before I became forever trapped in his world of madness or completely lost myself to my dark dreams. Even that, the thought of leaving him behind caused an ache in my chest.
What other choice did I have?
This wasn’t a normal situation.
He may have been the only person to see through the veil I was cloaked in, who made my heart pound erratically, but I couldn’t live this way.
I was scared.
He was taking it too far. I didn’t want to live in a prison, let alone one where the warden played games with my mind.
