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“No one died,” I point out dryly. “You couldn’t even do that right. Maybe you might get lucky this time.”
The devil has truly risen as Beckett’s pupils dilate, taking away the blue hues and drawing on the blackness of his incarnation.
“Don’t even tempt me, darling girl.”
I don’t think twice about taking on the grim reaper. It’d be so much harder for me if he wasn’t in the form of Beckett.
“Do it,” I dare him, not even scared he might well follow through. “Fucking do it.”
“Don’t test me.”
“Why not? Not man enough?”
“Natalia, I’m warning you.”
“And I’m daring you.” I meet his gaze with a fierceness I thought I’d lost. “Just do it, Beck, and make this easier for everyone.”
What Beckett doesn’t know is that, a long time ago, I tempted death. I teased him to take me, offering my soul to him for just a moment’s peace, but he didn’t want me. Not on my say, anyway, but maybe if the choice was left to someone else, he’d take me now.
“You’d have it all without the threat or temptation of me close by.”
I knew my weak spot is him, and likewise, I’m his. His hesitation is testament to that.
“Why can’t you do it, Beckett? Can’t possibly be because you love me, and it can’t be because you don’t hate me. We both know you do. Especially now.”
He fights with himself for a moment. I feel it in the tiny shake that ricochets through the gun still pressed to my temple. There’s something more than love and hate here. Something carnal and binding. Something he wants to live without but knows he can’t.
And death is pretty fucking final.
We both know that.
Which is why he won’t ever pull the trigger.
Withdrawing from his spot, he pushes distance between us as he goes back to the other side of the room, pacing in fury before he heads for the door.
“Yeah, just what I thought. Maybe your dad will pull the trigger if you can’t.”
I’m not surprised he doesn’t reply or stop to look back.
Taking a jab at Beckett while using his father as ammunition wasn’t solely for effect. I have no doubt in my mind that when Alistair is done making this hell for me, he’ll kill me soon after. I just have to suffer for the mercy first.
Crossing the space from where Beckett left me against the wall to the bathroom, I run a sink full of water. Splashing the lukewarm water into my face is refreshing enough until I catch sight of myself, and the truth really shines.
My make-up washes away, but the marks Alistair left don’t.
Taking in my reflection, I think over everything that’s happened since that night in my own home. Since then, I’ve allowed Beckett to take little pieces of me without my knowledge and without my permission. In turn, I allowed others their opportunity, and look where that’s got us.
Washing away the rest, I leave the bathroom, moving through the room absentmindedly. I could spew every emotion I feel, but honestly, I’m numb. I felt everything until I burnt out.
I allowed Alistair close to something I refused to ever allow him, and I hated myself for it. But I won’t allow it again. As stupid as that sounds, I am never going to let a man have a right to me without my permission, and even then, I’ll rip it right away if I want to.
Somewhere inside, I’m laughing at myself.
Taking a good look at what I’ve become, I realise I’m a husk of a person who has no power or standing to do anything when surrounded by the men in this building.
Knowing I should hate the head of it all, I can’t. Every time I try, Alistair comes to my mind, laughing maniacally at me. Bitterly, I swallow hard, knowing I should have gotten rid of Alistair when I had a chance.
Looking back, I wish I had listened to my instinct and stayed away from the coronation. Hindsight is brutal, and I hate that I came back expecting everything to go my way. I may have remembered London, but the city forgot me. For that, I’m going to set so many fires that I plan to draw in all of the right people like moths to the flame.
