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Fuck, how much had this woman told him?
Henri stepped into me, our chests almost touching. “Don’t send me away. I’m not here for your money. I know you can’t cure me. I know you’d probably rather kill me than accept me. And I know you have no reason to trust me but…I need to belong somewhere. I need…someone. Just a single person to hold me accountable. To keep me human.”
Taking a step back, he tried to tame the urgency in him but failed. “I don’t even know what I’m asking for just…I can’t go back. I can’t keep doing this—living like this. My own mother hated me. My own brother can’t stand me. I’ve tried to be good. I obey the rules. I pretend to be like others. I do whatever it takes to fit in but…I’m done. I don’t have the strength to dream such sickening things anymore. I barely exist because I’m fucking petrified I’m going to slip and hurt someone. I hate myself. I hate what I am, and I hate that I’m so fucking alone.”
Breathing hard, he went to the fireplace and ran a finger over one of the very few pictures of Tess and me. It’d been taken outside in full summer with the sun shining and Tess sprawled over my front and me on my back. We’d both fallen asleep because the night before I’d proposed to her, put my ring on her finger, and then seared my brand into her flesh.
She’d branded me in return.
We’d fucked like absolute deviants.
And then, we’d passed out like teenagers on the lawn.
I smothered my snarl as he ran his finger over Tess’s perfect face. Hanging his head, he murmured, “I-I want what you have. I came here to ask if you suffer the way I do. If you fight every damn day not to hurt those you desire but…I don’t need to ask. I know.”
Turning to face me, he shrugged. “I saw it in the way you spoke to her. The way you looked at her. The way she looked at you. You walk a fine line of disrespect and devotion and I…I want that. I need that. I want someone to call my own so I can stay a man, not a monster.”
I bared my teeth, protective instincts surging through me. If he knew who else existed in this house—a beloved son I’d killed for many times over—he wouldn’t be so quick to ask such fantastical things of me. “You think I can snap my fingers and conjure you a wife?” I laughed coldly. “You’d be better off asking me for money.”
Crossing his arms, all his grief and loneliness vanished beneath a mask of ferocity.
It was like looking in a fucking mirror.
I hated it.
“I don’t want money and I don’t expect you to find me a wife. Despite everything I want, I know I’ll most likely never be blessed in that way. I’ll exist alone and I’ll die alone but…in the small window of time I have left, I would very much like to know what it feels like to belong, even if it’s to someone who can’t stand me.” He chuckled blackly. “After all, I’m used to that.”
“Belong to what exactly?” I crossed my arms, matching him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I want my brother. I want at least one person to know who I truly am without being afraid of getting arrested for being honest—”
“I’d do worst than just arrest you.” My eyes flickered to my hidden gun. “If you’d killed that girl, you wouldn’t be breathing right now.”
He froze. He studied me to see if I lied. When he found no such evidence, he braced his shoulders. “So…you didn’t just stop murdering with our father? You kill other men like him? Other men like…us?”
Jesus Christ, how did he jump to that conclusion so quickly and why did I like it?
Why did my interest in him creep from intolerance to mild curiosity?
“I’d be careful if I were you.” I stalked around the library, moving toward the window. The very window where Tess had made me swear a blood oath to try loving her. She’d returned to me after I’d set her free. She’d become my air, my reason, my gravity and—
“Q?” The doors banged wide. “I’m sorry, but I really must interrupt.” The object of my affection and annoyance came bounding into the library, heading straight toward Henri.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fucking hell, Tess. You try my patience.”
She flipped me the bird as she stopped in front of my unknown brother. She gasped as she studied his face. I growled as she cupped his cheek and traced his cheekbones that weren’t mine on a face that clearly shared my genes.
Henri didn’t say a damn word, shocked into silence, blinking as if an angel touched him.
Primal possession roared through me. “Esclave, enlève tes mains de lui.” (Get your hands off him).
Spinning to face me, she didn’t flinch as I crossed the room and grabbed her wrist, tugging her away from Henri.
Her eyes widened, brimming with joy. “Oh my God, it’s real. He’s really related to you.” She looked back at Henri. “I-I have no idea how this is possible—”
“It’s possible because my father was a raping bastard who sowed seeds that shouldn’t be sowed. You’ve met him and now he’s leaving. Say goodbye—”
“Goodbye?” Her nose wrinkled. “But he just got here.”
