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That got him to laugh. To really, truly laugh. “Oh, you are a fun one. My uncle chose well. Life will never be boring as long as you’re around.”
I didn’t know what pushed me to ask this next question. “And how long will that be? How long will you keep me around?” Eventually he’d get tired of me. Rich, spoiled, bratty kids always got tired of their new toys—and Gareth had said it himself: I was his newest toy. He’d throw me away the moment he grew tired of me, and my mom sure as shit wouldn’t lift a finger to stop him.
Hell, maybe Alistair would throw her out at the same time, too. It didn’t seem like a marriage full of love, not on his part.
“What makes you think I’m going to ever throw you away?” Gareth’s answer startled me, and I had to turn my head to look at him. He stared straight ahead at the road, completely serious, his expression telling me nothing beyond the fact that he meant it.
But that was insane. I was a realist, and there was no possible way Gareth would want to keep me forever.
“I’m not stupid,” I whispered. “The moment I give you what you want, the chase will be over and you’ll have no reason to keep me around.”
“I might’ve agreed with you in the beginning, but now… it’s fun having someone else in the house.” Gareth shot me a smug, sly look. “You’re my sister now, Brianna. I could never throw away family. Hurt them, torture them, mentally break them… yes, but throw them out? No.”
There was no way I’d believe a single word that came out of his mouth. No way. “Is that what you told your mom before you killed her?”
His voice came out low and dangerous after that, “I gave that woman exactly what she deserved. She was weak. She wasn’t like me. She wasn’t like you. My uncle told you about her… what else did he say about it?”
I slumped over in my seat, refusing to answer.
Gareth let out a strange sound. Not quite a chuckle, but not quite a growl, either. Something smack dab in the middle of the two, a dangerous sound if I’d ever heard one. “My uncle got so chatty with you, didn’t he?”
Heat threatened to creep up my cheeks and reveal my true thoughts about Alistair Montgomery, so I turned my face away from Gareth and once more stared out the window. “He said if I played nice with you, I could become part of the family. He said he could protect me from the world… and keep you from hurting me.”
That got him to laugh. “Did he, now? Interesting. I had no idea your welfare was so important to him.” The edge in his voice told me he suspected there was more to it I wasn’t saying. “What else have you two talked about?” He made a hard turn into the driveway of the manor.
As we pulled up to the garage, I managed to ask, “Why do you care?” I knew the question would set him off, so I didn’t know why I said it.
Gareth hit the button to open the garage door, and then he pulled us inside, parking the car and turning it off. He unbuckled his seatbelt and hit the button on the vizor again, slow to turn his body toward me.
I didn’t look at him. I could feel the fury radiating off him in waves, and I knew I’d struck a chord by asking that question.
One of his hands grabbed me by the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him, as much as my seatbelt would allow. “I care,” Gareth whispered, leaning his nose against the side of my cheek, “because you were supposed to be mine. He told me he got you forme, but now I’m starting to wonder if perhaps my uncle chose you for a more selfish reason.”
“What are you talking about?” The fingers curled around the back of my neck gripped harder, and I bit back the whimper that threatened to escape me. His nose still against my cheek, both of us leaning over the center console. His breath was warm on my skin, and I fought the way his closeness made certain parts of me come alive.
“Are you really mine, or are you Alistair’s?”
All I could do was swallow hard and wish I was anywhere but here. When I refused to give him an answer, the hand on the back of my neck moved to my jaw, curling around the side of my face and forcing me to turn towards him, my nose now against his.
“By the time this is over,” Gareth promised, “I will make you and my uncle see that you’re mine.”
I wanted to argue with him, tell him that Alistair didn’t view me as his, that him offering to protect me was more a threat than anything else—the threat of withholding his protection—but I didn’t get a chance to speak.
Gareth’s mouth came crashing down upon mine after that, swallowing up anything I might’ve said. His lips were firm and commanding, fierce and violent, just like every other part of him. When he kissed you, the only thing you could do was surrender.
“Tell me you’re mine,” Gareth murmured against my lips. “Tell me you’re mine and mine alone and I won’t hurt you or your friends.”
Now it wasn’t just proclaiming I belonged to him he wanted to hear. Now he wanted to hear that I was his alone, no one else’s. Now that the thought, the possibility of me being chosen by Alistair wasn’t purely selfless had seeded itself in his head, it would only grow.
So, when he finally realized I wasn’t going to answer him, that I wasn’t going to give him the reassurance he so desperately craved, he pulled away from me, letting me go with a scowl. He could kiss me, he could touch me, he could fuck me however he liked, but what he wanted the most was to hear those words.
He got out of the car after that, storming out and leaving me without so much as another word. I watched him go, my lips a little sore from the kiss, and I couldn’t help but wonder, now that he was gone, if he wasn’t wrong.
Did Alistair choose me for Gareth, or did he choose me for himself? It was obvious he didn’t give a shit about my mom, and my mom was too smitten by the money and his last name to notice. He’d married her to get me in this house, and prior to now, I thought it was strictly for Gareth’s benefit, so I could keep him in line and distract him enough that he’d stop killing.
Alistair had certainly seemed like a whole different person that day, when he’d taken me out of that pitch-black room and helped me in the shower. He’d actually expressed some emotion and not the blank look he always wore.
No. There was no way. I wasn’t catnip for serial killers.
