by Dee Garcia
I'm not sure how much time passes but at some point, a menacing laugh grows louder and louder, and from one moment to the next, the spinning ceases. My eyes snap open and I'm greeted by a dark room I recognize as one of the cells deep in the basement of my family’s compound. It's Alessio’s so-called office, his chamber if you will, but I remember him allowing me to take out a difficult mark here.
That laugh, echoing abruptly within the room, grapples every last bit of my attention. I realize I'm no longer seated, but standing mere feet away from the sound. Turning to the source, I find Francisco Bellini—a rapist and crooked real estate broker—restrained in a chair, his arms bound behind his back, ankles shackled to thick concrete rings in the ground. It's an exact recreation of the day I killed him, down to his cheap and very wrinkled pinstripe suit. His beady black eyes hone in on my form and he laughs again.
“Are we going for round two, Miss Scarsi?” he asks, far more candidly than I care for.
“Looks like it. Ready to go back to hell?” I snarl, already agitated beyond belief just from the sight of him.
“Only if you can kill me.”
“I did it once, Bellini, and I'll do it again.”
“Oh yeah,” he chuckles. “How? With what weapon?”
I glance downward and sure enough, I'm unarmed. The only weapon I recall having was left behind before stepping through the door. My eyes meet his and he shines me a cheeky, satisfied grin.
“Seems you'll have to literally rip me apart if you want me dead, pet.”
“And what makes you think I won't?” I grit out.
“Your inexperienced tactics. You couldn't even torture me properly the last time. Had to take the easy way out and use a few bullets.”
Oh hell no, he did not just...
“You're doubting the wrong woman.” I shake my head and circle his chair. “If you don't think I'll mangle you alive, you've got another thing coming.”
“I'll believe it when I see it. I will say though, smart move on keeping me restrained.”
One of my brows cocks curiously as I saunter away from him. “And why is that?”
“Because… you grew up to be quite the stunner. I wouldn't mind pressing you up to that wall against your will and devouring you at my leisure.”
I still in place, my stomach roiling in distaste, and pivot toward him slowly.
“You're disgusting,” I growl, and Francisco chuckles almost inaudibly.
“I've been called worse, little girl. A few bad names won't break my bones.”
“No, but my fist will.”
“Oooh, so feisty.” His voice drips with arousal, rattling a shudder down my spine. “C’mon, baby. Untie me. Let me show you how a real man can blow your mind.”
“You're seriously sick, and if you had any common sense left, you'd shut your mouth.”
He throws his dark head back and barks out a laugh that almost shakes the ground. “Why don't you come shut me up, pet? My tongue works wonders.” My face screwing up in repulsion only eggs him on, his lips curling in satisfaction. “I'm surprised a whore’s daughter like yourself isn't chomping at the bit to have her cunt stroked,” he purrs.
I try breathing through the rage that starts at my feet and works its way up, hoping that counting to ten might help too…
One…
Two…
Three…
Four…
Five…
I don't even make it to ten before I snap, the flip inside my mind, the one that subdues or awakens The Silent Reaper, switches on and suddenly everything is blanketed by a cloud of red.
Behind you, the ax, that little voice in my head says and, without hesitation, I spin around, heading for the back of the room. Hanging on the wall with the rest of Alessio’s arsenal—an arsenal that wasn't there moments ago—is a shiny, lethally sharp ax. Grabbing it in one hand, it clunks to the floor under its weight and I start back toward Bellini, dragging my weapon behind me. The metal scraping against the concrete heightens the moment, acting like a one-instrument symphony made for the kill. His laughter erupts again, and I can see he thinks my efforts are comical, which in turn only makes me all the more feverish. The sound provokes my instincts and as I step closer, my heels clicking against the ground, my breathing quickens with a need that won't be sated until he's dead.
Closing in the distance between us, I bring the ax up behind my back like a bat, and with one last look at his now terrified expression—funny how that works, right?—I swing out and drive the blade right through his neck, his ragged scream echoing far past the walls of this room.
And then there's nothing but silence, followed by the thud of his head splattering to the ground. I take a deep cleansing breath as a sense of peace washes over me. That peace, however, is short-lived because when I steal a glance at the decapitated head on the floor, I realize it's no longer Francisco’s head…
But Xander’s...
The sound of Eden’s bloodcurdling scream jolted me awake sometime around 3 a.m. Shooting out of my bed, I rushed through the dark to her side and turned on the table lamp, shocked by the image unraveling before me. She wasn't just screaming at the top of her lungs, she was crying; kicking, too.
What the hell?
Unsure of what to do in my half-asleep state, I called her name, but it did nothing to waken her. Did nothing to pull her away from whatever was haunting her. Again I tried, a little louder this time, and the result was the same. Useless. Her scream dominated everything, and quite frankly, it was terrifying as hell. I'd never seen or experienced anything like it. What was I supposed to do? Didn't they say not to touch people who suffered from night terrors? Or was that sleepwalkers? Was this even a night terror or was it just a plain nightmare that had taken the obvious gruesome turn? Not knowing how else to help, I managed to blanket her body with my own, preventing her from hurting me or herself for that matter, and in the loudest voice possible, I yelled her name.
That did it.
Blue eyes snapped open, horror wallowing within them, pouring heavy streams of tears down her cheeks. She gasped for air, breathless from whatever had assaulted her in the depths of her mind.
“Xander?” Her question was laced with disbelief.
“I’m here, you’re okay, it was just a—”
Shaky arms came around my neck, knocking the words from my mouth as she yanked me down flush against her body. Rattling beneath me, she sobbed quietly in my ear, harrowed droplets of undeniable fear trickling down my shoulder.
What the hell just happened?
Brushing sweat-damped strands of hair away from her face, I shushed her quietly until she began to settle. “You're okay, I've got you.”
“God, I thought you were…” She trailed off, cupping my face in her hand, her thumb brushing softly along my cheek.
Idly, I thought about how I never expected to feel this again; the gentleness of her touch, the silkiness of her skin, the way my body thrummed in only her presence. I’d missed it more than I’d realized.
“You thought I was what?”
“Dead…”
“Is that”—I swallowed—“is that what happened?”
Eden nodded, her eyes skipping back and forth between mine. “It didn't start out that way, no, but then suddenly everything was spinning, and when it finally stopped, I recognized bits and pieces of different memories… And then you were… Then you were dead...”
Tears rolled down her cheeks anew, her arms tightening around my neck all the more. My heart ached for her, for the despair she felt, something that had made me happy, just hours ago. Truth is, after I’d worked out the rage that had swiftly consumed me, I regretted feeling so pleased in a time when she was hurting. And now, here we were, her pain latching on to me, tethering us together by some invisible cord.
Rolling onto my back, I pulled her with me, my arms nearly swallowing her whole in my embrace. She melted into me, breathing a sigh of relief I felt through to my very core.
“I’ve never be
en so scared before, Xander. Never in my life.”
“No need to be scared, Angel,” I said, the last bit purely out of habit. “I’m right here, in one piece. It was just a nightmare, that’s all.”
She turned her head and rested her chin on my chest. “A nightmare that was too real, though.”
“The worst ones always feel that way. Take a deep breath and relax. It’s all over now.”
“Will you…” She hesitated, and I hated it, hated what fear and all the bullshit lies had done to us.
“Will I what?” I hedged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Will you hold me until I fall back asleep?”
Yes, I thought immediately, because in the end, regardless of how angry I'd been, it's the very least I could do...
“I can do that.”
“Thank you, Xander,” she whispered, snuggling against me.
Sifting my fingers through her hair, I felt her begin to drift off, her body falling slack as sleep took her away once more. I prayed with everything in me that the nightmares would remain at bay and let her rest peacefully before the start of another trying day, a day that could bring us closer to heading home, or a day that could bring death one step closer to my door.
“You’re welcome,” I whispered back, as I too began to drift off, a gnawing sense of impending doom the last thing I remember feeling before everything went dark.
But the darkness didn’t last long.
A couple of hours later, I found myself sneaking out from under Eden’s grasp to head to the pool for a few laps. I'd barely slept after waking her from that horrid nightmare, dread creeping through every corner of my mind, and somehow, I needed to exhaust it before it burned me alive. I swam lap after lap, from one end of the pool to the other, over and over again, until I could barely breathe. But I still felt it, chipping away at my subconscious like an ax to a tree, the threat of death more vivid than ever. And it only got worse once I returned to the room.
Eden wasn't asleep, but she was curled up in a ball on her bed, her body wracking through sob after quiet sob. She wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't look at me, nothing. My attempts to comfort her were feeble and after an hour of listening to her in self-contained despair, I couldn't take it anymore.
Stalking into the bathroom, I turned on the shower and set two clean towels on the counter before walking right back into the room and scooping Eden off the bed. She didn't protest when I set her on her feet and peeled off her pajamas, first her tank top and then the teeny little scrap of material she called shorts. Even in her disquieted state, the charge between us was there. Expected, inevitable, heart-racing, her body calling to me. But none of what I was doing was sexual. It wasn't meant to be. I was comforting her, using the one thing she identified with to soothe her.
Touch.
Taking her face in my hands, I forced our eyes to connect, my thumbs brushing her tear-stained cheeks as she'd done to me in the middle of the night. “Get in the shower. I'll be just a minute, okay?”
Eden nodded, the tears finally at bay, and stepped around me while I stripped down, discarding my still-damp pool trunks with the small pile of clothes now strewn on the bathroom floor. Joining her under the spray, I wasted no time and pressed her back to my front, the tips of my fingers gliding up the sides of her body.
“Shhh. Just relax,” I cooed in her ear when I felt her suck in a breath at the feel of my hands on her skin.
Pouring a dollop of shampoo in my palm, I massaged it into her hair slowly, working small circles from her scalp to the very tips. She stood perfectly still, but her appreciative little moans of relief did not go unnoticed, prompting me to go back in with conditioner and do it all over again.
Then I soaped up a small rag and ran it over the curves of her body, starting at her back and working my way down, soft kisses peppered in a trail as I crouched to my feet. In no hurry whatsoever, I washed slowly, taking care to scrub everywhere, my teeth instinctively nipping her ass as I turned her around to wash the other side.
I'd seen Eden naked many times before, but I wasn't prepared for the view that awaited me when my gaze shot up to hers. Eye level with her most intimate area, droplets of water clinging to her skin, I had to breathe through the rush of sudden desire that washed over me on my ascent.
“Turn around,” I instructed, dropping the rag onto the shower floor.
She obliged without hesitation, pivoting away from me, her back to my front once more. Draping her hair to one side, I lathered my hands with soap and brought them to her shoulders, kneading away the tension, my lips paying special attention to her neck. She shivered beneath my caress, her head falling to one side, granting me better access to my favorite spot. That delicious curve. Gently nipping its length, my hands moved of their own accord, keeping her firmly pressed against me as the water cascaded over us.
“Talk to me,” I murmured. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t think I can,” she whispered.
“Try. Take a deep breath and start from the beginning.”
“It’s too much, Xander. Too many feelings, too many emotions, boiling at the surface.”
“Like what?”
“Sadness, guilt, grief, fear…”
“Fear of what?” I hedged, draping her hair to the opposite side.
“That I've lost you forever, that my father will never forgive me.”
“That's impossible.”
“What part?” she asked quietly.
“All of it,” I admitted.
Spinning in my arms, Eden’s eyes darted to mine. “How? How could any of it be impossible? Don't you see? All of this was for nothing. All of it! I only agreed to LeRoux’s terms because I thought bringing my father back the money that was taken from him would make him happy. But that's the last thing he wants now. He's furious I lied about you, that I up and left town without a word.”
“But he’ll forgive you, Eden. Eventually. You're his daughter, and from what he told me, he loves you with every fiber of his being.”
She shook her head solemnly. “It's not enough.”
“Why not?”
“Because even if he forgives me, you'll still hate me…”
“Does it look like I hate you?” I asked, taking her face in my hands.
“No, but that's now, because I'm hurting. Tomorrow, you’ll remember all that's happened and you'll go right back to—”
“Listen to me,” I said, pushing her back into the shower wall. “I've tried to hate you, tried so fucking hard to loathe you, but even in my most furious moments, I can't.”
Her eyes widened. “Why not?”
“Because, despite all the lies and secrets, I can’t seem to forget the good you’ve done.”
“What good, Xander?”
“For starters, sparing my life. But you also, very generously I might add, helped me to pick up the pieces of that life. Even dragging me with you away from home, all to protect me.”
“How can any of that overshadow the bad? The fact that I’ve killed people, a lot of people?”
“It doesn't, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to accept that, but the point is, Angel, I can see the good in you begging to be freed.”
A tense silence fell between us then, the water splattering on the floor the only sound to be heard. Eden regarded me with a baffled expression, the wheels in her head clearly working on overdrive. Meanwhile, I stood there, trying my hardest to mask the shock unraveling within me. She finally admitted it. I wasn’t her first mark, not by a long shot, and I obviously wasn’t her last either. This whole thing with LeRoux made sense now. He was using her as a pawn, as his personal assassin, and she was going along with it because she wanted to help her father. I should’ve been running scared, but for some inexplicable reason, I couldn’t. I couldn’t move, couldn’t leave her, couldn’t find it in me to be terrified of her. Not when her intentions were in the right place.
“You're wrong,” she said after some time.
“How a
m I wrong?” I asked, caging her further into the wall.
“Because at the end of the day, through whatever light you may see in me, when I kill these people, I enjoy it.”
“Do you really, or are you just saying that in attempt to scare me away?”
“No, I do, I mean I used to…”
“I hear a key word in there—used to—so I'm obviously not wrong. What changed?”
“You.”
My head jerked back. “Me? What did I do?”
She shrugged. “You're just you. You changed it all. You changed me. After I spared you, I began to question everything. Getting through my list became harder and harder as years of repressed emotions surfaced, with the intention of breaking me. What got me through all that was you. You were my light when everything around me was shrouded in darkness.”
The conviction in her words flared my heart rate, my chest heaving as it all began to sink in. I'd questioned tirelessly after we left Manhattan if she'd ever cared for me at all, and in less than a minute, she'd answered it. This thing between us, this charge, this force, it was real. There was no stopping it and there was no escaping it. She might have been a killer, and at one point in time actually enjoyed it, but now that wasn’t the case. There was hope for her, for us, and if I was the light as she claimed, then I was going to drag her in here with me.
Overcome with emotion and determination, I smashed my lips against hers, my hands gripping her thighs to hitch her legs around my waist. I pressed her further into the wall, relishing the feel of her mouth on mine, her body in my grasp. She hesitated at first, but the more fervent my kisses became, the more she loosened up, her arms coming around my neck.
“God, I missed you,” I mumbled between kisses as I stepped out of the shower with her in my arms, the water still running.
I’d shut it off later. Right now, I needed to bury myself so far inside her, she’d forget where I started and she ended. Tossing her onto the bed, I spread her legs and climbed over her, the mattress sinking beneath my weight. She looked so confused but so relieved all in one shot. So beautiful too, and so mine. Dropping my head to the crook of her neck, I peppered soft kisses along the column, my hand snaking between us to find her cunt warm and wet.