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“Always, Bree.”
I allowed his words to soothe me as I took every single one of them in—and they did.
I pulled myself from the memories, no longer able to digest what had happened. If John was really so bad, then why did he act like he cared? All those years he pretended to be something he wasn’t.
Picking up soap, I vigorously scrubbed my body, trying to rid myself of the emotions swirling within me. I wanted every memory of who he was scrubbed from my mind. I wanted Zerro gone. I wanted the pain to go away. It was completely consuming me. I should’ve known it was all too good to be true.
Four days had passed since I even uttered a word to Jared or Zerro. I refused to talk to the very people who told me the things that had ripped my world apart. It was bad enough both of them played a part in the mix somehow. Zerro had killed my father, and I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to handle it.
I had just walked into the bedroom we were supposed to be sharing though we weren’t. I made him sleep on the couch, too afraid I might slit his throat at night while he was sleeping.
Stripping off my shirt and shorts, I stood before him in my bra and panties. I turned around narrowing my eyes, ready to head into the bathroom. Was I ready to talk about this? Ready to let it go? All I had done for the past four days was to think. Think about all the fucked up things in my life. I was being pulled in five different directions. Part of me said it was okay to love Zerro and that he had been the good guy in killing John, but there was another part of me. Part saying it was wrong, and even though he wasn’t my father, I should love him regardless simply because he was there for me when no one else was.
“Bree, we should talk. Talk about everything,” Zerro said. His voice was full of pain, and I’m sure if I looked at him, he would be pained by everything I was going through. It wasn’t the point though. He was the cause of the pain. It didn’t matter if John wasn’t my dad. He had still killed someone who had raised me my entire life. He had still killed the last breathing person who loved and cared about me as much as my mother had. I had lost so much, and for what?
Turning on my heels, I looked at him. Really looked at him. “There is nothing to talk about. The pain I see in your eyes is for yourself. For once in your life, you did something you might actually regret. You did something that broke me and ripped me from you.”
I had been nothing but understanding of his need for vengeance, but somewhere inside of me, I hoped and prayed he could let it go and hoped his need for love was more than his need to shed blood. I was wrong.
Removing my bra and panties, I watched them fall to the floor, and his eyes grew wide with unknown desires. The man I had loved was standing before me… and I was bare to him as I was. Yet I still knew I would never be enough.
“We can fix this, Bree. We can be whole.” His voice was pleading with me. Was he trying to save us after he had shoved us head first into this world of blood? Once something was broken, it would never be as strong as it once was. I turned the faucet on to scolding hot and jumped into the shower ignoring him.
The water burned me, it burned my skin, turning my skin red, and though it was painful, it covered everything else for a moment.
“I will not give you the fuck up, Bree. You knew my need for revenge was important. You knew if it came down to it, I would have to kill him. Look at what he did to you. Look at what he did to us— to me.” Zerro practically yelled as he slipped into the shower behind me.
As much as I hated him and wanted nothing to do with him, I needed him. I needed his touch, his words, and his anger.
Turning around, I smacked him. Hard. Straight across the face. It took him by surprise and it caused my blood to pump. Some of my anger had been unveiled, and I felt the need to do it again, and again. To beat him to the bloody mess he had left my heart in.
His eyes grew wide for a moment in pure shock and then he was on me, his lips devouring mine as he picked me up and slammed my back against the shower wall. Hot water sprayed down on us as I made him bleed in the most sensual ways. My teeth bit into his lips until I tasted blood, and my nails scraped against his back.
“Hurt me, Bree. Make me feel whatever it is you want me to feel. I’m bared to you. I know I hurt you, I know I fucked up, but it had to be done. It had to happen—and while you hate me, you’ll move on and learn to deal with it. Death is the only thing promised in this life.”
“I do hate you,” I growled, pulling at his hair as he laid kisses against my neck. My body tingled in unimaginable ways, washing away all the anger and sadness. I would never admit it right now, but I needed him. I needed him like I needed water to drink or the air to breathe.
“Then show me. Show me how much you hate me,” he whispered. His teeth grazed my ear as his cock pressed against my hot core.
With hands wrapped under my ass, he pressed into me. His cock and body promised me millions of ways to forget, and I wanted to forget. I wanted to so badly. Letting the walls fall, I reached up, gripping his face as I stared into a pair of warm eyes.
