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“And me what?”
“Doyousee things? You have your mother’s eyes after all.”
“No,” I lie, shaking my head. “I don’t have any gifts.”
“That isn’t true,” he remarks, grazing his fingers under my chin, urging me to look at him.
“You mademesee, didn’t you?”
“Not much of a gift if it doesn’t work on all three of you,” I murmur, the ache in my chest becoming painful for reasons I’d rather not delve too deeply into right now.
“I wouldn’t be so certain about that.”
His hand falls away as he grabs the armrest either side of me and shifts closer. I should be fearful. I should be on the defence. Instead I’m fighting off a headache and a deep sense of unease. I rub at my temples, willing it to go away. “You can’t believe that, surely.”
“I think they’re fighting with everything they havenotto remember who they were. They’re lashing out, Jakub in particular.”
“I see…”
“I don’t think you do.”
“You honestly think they can change?”
“I have, haven’t I?”
My gaze snaps away as I contemplate that. Has he though? He isn’t trying to actively rape me, that’s true, and neither is he trying to kill me, but I still sense the darkness in him, the need to cause harm. To hurt. He gets a thrill out of that.Pleasure. I experienced it in the dungeon. That need isstillthere. It hasn’t gone away, he’s just able to suppress it better now that he has a little more control over his urges. But we all know that nothing good ever comes by suppressing who you truly are, it finds a way out eventually.
“Do you want to know what I honestly think?” I ask him.
“Yes,” he breathes, searching my face.
“I think you’re lying to yourself. I think that despite your ability to feel more, you still crave the same things you did before. You said as much yourself. You want to fuck me.Hurtme.”
“I—”
“You want to cut me, smother yourself in my blood,” I say, cutting him off. “There’s a need in you. One that won’t be satisfied no matter how much you try to pretend otherwise. So whilst you’re not trying to force yourself on me right now, you still want to, don’t you?”
Leon shifts closer, his firm abs pressing against my knees. The heat of his body seeping into mine. “Yes,” he admits, and my spine tingles. “I want to do all those things to you. I think about the time in the dungeon every second of every fucking day. I replay it over and over again. I see my cock covered in your blood and the look of ecstasy on your face, and I want it so fucking bad.So fucking bad.And yet...”
“And yet?” I swallow hard, my voice painfully quiet.
“I want you to want it, too. I want you to crave that part of me like I crave all of you.”
Caustic anger flares in my veins. “Ineverwanted that.” I shake my head, trying to compose myself, but as sick as it is, there’s this tiny, miniscule part of me that found pleasure in what happened. The balance between pleasure and pain was so carefully played between the two men that the orgasm I had was intense. Confusing. Mind-altering.
“Whatdoyou want then?” he asks me, capturing me in his gaze, his eyes begging for something,anything, to soothe his soul. As I look into them I’m reminded once again of the boy who saved me and my heart squeezes painfully at the memory.
No, I tell myself forcefully. I owe him nothing.
“I’m not playing this game anymore.”
“This isn’t a game. This is a man trying to claw his way back to humanity. You said you’d help me. Talk to me. Give me something to cling on to.”
“I didn’t agree to this…” I say, pressing myself back against the seat, hating the way my skin flushes at his nearness. My heart and soul might remember the damage he caused, the pain he inflicted, the life he took, but my body? My body only remembers how hefeltwhen he touched and caressed me in the library, how he kissed me after cutting me in the dungeons, how I kissedhimafter I beat him brutally. It doesn’t remember how it felt to be strangled, given I was so totally under the influence of the elixir I was forced to drink. My body can’t hold ontothatfeeling of violence because I simply didn’t feel it. Instead, it yearns for the softness I experienced after the pain and itsickensme.
“Don’t you feel that?” he asks, his fingers gently hovering over my forearm.
“No.” I lie, even when the hairs on my arms lift as his fingers pass over them. The energy between us practically crackles. Of course I feel it. That pull, that need, the connection. It’s dangerous.Wrong.
