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“You call that love?” she asks.
“I wanted you to get to know me. I knew that if I asked you out, you would have turned me down.”
“Of course, I would have. You beat women,” she growls.
“But I could change,” he insists.
“I’ve heard that before. A man that hits will never change,” she says firmly.
“I would for you.”
She laughs with little humor. “You are insane.”
“Don’t say that,” he says, glaring.
“You aren’t in a position to tell me what to do.” She walks by the table. I have all my tools on. She drags her fingertips over the top of them on her way to him. “I have the power now.”
“Please, you could let me go.”
“You didn’t let me go.” She stops in front of him, tilting her head. I feel her demon pushing forward.
“I’m sorry, so sorry.”
“Are you?”
“I can’t take it back; I would if I could,” he claims.
“You’re lying. You just wish you didn’t get caught,” she guesses.
“No.” He shakes his head frantically.
“You thrive on the weakness of women. You think you are stronger than them.” She leans close. “If you were the stronger one, you wouldn’t have to tie them up.”
“No.”
“Yes,” she hisses.
“It’s not like that.”
“Judging from your life story, you are trying to replace your mother. She is the ultimate woman to you, but you deemed her weak because she didn’t want to be abused daily. In the end, you had to kill her; she took enjoyment out of your father's death. You couldn’t take that.” Sammy’s face is thunderous. “You try to find women that enjoy being tied up. Pleasure and pain are the same in your eyes.”
“Shut up!” He screams. “You can’t talk about my mother.”
“I can and will.” Marie goes back to the table and looks at him as she bends over it, her eyes wild. “You want your mother back.”
“No, no, no, no,” he denies.
“You do. But you killed her, Sammy.” She runs her finger over a knife. It’s one of my favorites.
“Stop,” he yells.
We watch her in fascination. She switches back and forth between herself and her demon; it’s seamless and turns me the fuck on. The guys are mesmerized by her. Instead of being jealous, I’m proud. River would kill himself before looking at another woman with anything but respect, and Bishop respects the bond.
“Nope.” She grins. “How did you kill your mom?”
“Shut up,” he says, his teeth grinding.
“You don’t like to think about it.” She tilts her head and holds the knife up. “Why not? Aren’t you proud of the sick things you’ve done?”
