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I stare down at our hands. His dwarfs mine as he drags the rough pads of his fingertips along the beads of the rosary. My skin tingles beneath his touch, but it’s probably how tightly the beads are wound around my fingers.
“Eve.”
I really should pull away from his touch, lower my head, and retreat back to the privacy of my room, but there’s something about the pained way he says my name that keeps me kneeling by his side.
His hand tightens around mine and he finally turns his head, his deep brown eyes are haunted, a reflection of the unrelenting pain I feel inside me day after day. “If I were a good man, I’d walk away from you and let you forget me, just like you said you would. I’m a bad person, Eve, I do bad things to bad people. I’m not good enough for you. I’m death and destruction and you… you’re perfect. But I can’t, I won’t.”
His words hang heavy between us, his fingers still drifting back and forth beside the beads.
There are so many things I should say, but I can’t. I’m weak.
Several minutes pass before he clears his throat, his voice softening when he asks, “Why did you choose this life for yourself?”
I pull my hand out from under his and shift, studying his face. I’m not sure if this is his idea of a joke, but his expression gives nothing away. “What makes you think I would have chosen this?”
He gestures to the barren altar in front of us. “You’re here.”
“Barely.”
Declan’s gaze snaps back to mine and his mask crumbles, revealing the hard man underneath. His lip curls up and a low growl rumbles at the back of his throat. His eyes narrow and hit me with the force of his anger. “Who? Give me a name, Eve.”
“I…” I rear back, twisting the rosary around another finger.
“A name is all I need, Eve. Is there someone making you miserable? Wreaking havoc on your existence? Making you feel like you don’t matter?”
“Me.”
His brows slam together and he reaches out for me, but I lean away from his touch. “What does that mean?”
I take a deep breath, scanning the small chapel, taking in the crumbling stone, the orange flicker from the candlelight close by, and finally the broken table that once made up the altar.
“I’m weak. I need to be punished,” I whisper, leaning down, afraid of looking into his penetrating gaze.
“Punished?” His voice is low, rough.
I nod, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a small retractable blade. I don’t meet his eyes as I lay it on the floor between us and hold out the arm closest to him.
CHAPTER SIX
DECLAN
“What is this?” I ask quietly, reaching for the small blade, turning it over in my hand, and running my nail along the sharp edge.
She doesn’t respond, only continues to hold out her arm, and there’s something about that simple gesture that twists my insides and lines my stomach with lead.
“Sometimes I needed the physical pain to override everything else, to turn off the world,” she whispers, her voice clogged with emotion. “Sometimes I think I’m broken beyond repair.”
Eve looks forward, her eyes on the broken altar in front of us. Her shaky fingers unwind the rosary digging into her skin and the beads fall to the floor with a clatter as she pushes up the sleeve to her jumper.
I stare at her skin for several breaths before I realize what I’m looking at. Thin white scars mar her skin, running the width of her arm from wrist to elbow. Some shallow, some deep, but all of them rooted in her pain, her suffering.
If I wasn’t already on my knees, I’d have fallen.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and for the first time in my Godforsaken life, I actually pray. I pray I could fix her suffering and take away any ounce of pain she’s ever felt, even if it comes from my own flesh and blood. I pray for her to find the strength she’s looking for, and more than anything, I pray for the impossible, that the girl I once knew and fell in love with would come back to me.
When I open my eyes, her green orbs are locked on mine, her expression forlorn, her heart breaking. Her sleeve is pulled back down and her hands are back in her lap. “What does the devil pray for?”
“You.” My voice is rough and my throat feels like it’s coated with sandpaper. “The devil prays for you, Eve.”
