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"What's the alternative?"
"They would all have been banned from the Heritage. They'd have lost business partners, friends, power."
That's literally insane. "She preferred becoming a slave to not being in the club?"
"If she isn't part of the Heritage, I can go after her. She knew she was safer this way. They all did."
I let that sink in. "I didn't think you'd find me in time. I thought…" I can't finish the sentence. I'm too busy sobbing like a weak fool.
Camden carefully curls his arms around me and kisses my head. "I'll always find you."
I only cry harder, and he slowly strokes my back, patiently soothing me as I get it all out.I don't know how long I cry. I wipe my face over the thick, luxurious comforter, and try to keep it together.
After I'm done, I lift my face back to Camden, looking into his beautiful gold eyes, so bright when they focus on me.
“You love me,” I tell him, with arrogant certitude.
“I do.” He grins at me. “I thought it would take you a while longer to get it.”
“Kidnapping is great for clearing the mind." I shift over the bed to sit up by his side. "Which brings me to something else I figured out. I trust you.”
That seems to surprise him. “You do?”
I nod earnestly. “I trusted, one hundred percent, that you’d get to me last night. That you’d want to. I mean, I figured you'd be too late, but I knew you'd find that guy, and kill him—painfully."
Camden's eyes flash. "And I would have. A single bullet was too good for him."
"He told me what you did to him," I hedge, mentioning my kidnapper. I don't know his name. "He said you made him drink your piss and beat him, then cut your name into him."
"I did." He's watching my reaction closely.
"He said you…wanked afterwards."
"I did that too."
I don't really know what I'm asking. "So, you like hurting people?"
He hesitates. "People in general, no, not really. But I do like to hurt those who wrong me. Most people do. I just have the resources to get away with it."
I don't tell him I wouldn't have done these things to another person even if I was categorically certain I'd get off scot-free. It'd sound judgmental, when in truth, I'm not judging Camden. Not over this. Not over anything that makes him, him. But I do have a reason to ask. "Is it a scene you’d like to play out?" I ask. "I could pretend I’m your victim. Someone who did something bad to you. You could pretend to take revenge."
Those changing, leonine eyes search mine. "I'm not asking you to do that, Morgan.I don’t want you to be uncomfortable."
I swallow, choosing my words. "I'm not. I think I might enjoy it.I like it when I’m not in charge. When I have no choice. Not for real, but when we play. And like I said, I trust you."Those three words mean a lot more to me than they to do most people."You probably don’t get it," I guess. "I don’t trust anyone. I love Willow, but I’ve always been in charge, taking care of everything.”
“Now you have me.”
"Now I have you. And you have me. If playing out scenes like that is something you'd like…"It's probably something heneeds."I'll do it with you." And love every minute of it.
Camden brings his lips to mine, soft and light.He starts to deepen the kiss, but I wince as I lean forward. Camden grunts, drawing back. "You have a lot of bruises. Dimitri's doctor checked you out—nothing's broken. You'll feel better in a few days. In the meantime, let's try not to break you, princess." He kisses my forehead again. "I'm just glad you finally trust me. I only regret I didn’t trust you sooner."
His arms close over me.
“I was so afraid when you disappeared, princess. Afraid you’d be taken from me before I’d even told you what you meant to me.” His mouth drops to my hair. “If you knew how I was raised, you’d understand. Addison taught me my feelings could be used to hurt me. My parent’s relationship is toxic, and it’s because Addison never loved my father, and never accepted his way of live. I wanted you to voluntarily join my world before I showed any vulnerability.” He shakes his head. “I realized how fucking stupid it was last night. I love you. Please don’t hurt me.”
I chuckle against his chest, although for some reason, I’m crying. I think my tears are for the little boy who believed loving was a weakness. We make a fine pair, he and I, both too afraid to show any feeling, too used to having them exploited or ignored.
“I already knew I loved you. I had to repeat to myself I didn’t every day just to convince myself, when I’d smile at your text or want to murder Kim. But I had to ignore it, because I didn’t trust you.”
