by Cora Reilly
“I’ll order pizza. What do you want?” came his matter-of-fact question as he grabbed the phone.
I felt like someone had plunged me into water. Now that the pleasure was fading, guilt and shame and loneliness reared their ugly heads again. The brief moments of passion had made me forget what kind of arrangement this was, what kind of man Growl was. I was nothing more than his whore, cheaper than the ones he usually used in Falcone’s whore houses and unlike them I hadn’t even pretended to enjoy what he was doing. Stop it. You’re doing what’s necessary, I reminded myself.
I sank back down on the sofa. My legs were shaky and I felt drained, emotionally and physically. I needed to make a decision. Either I was going through with this and try to make Growl trust me that way, or I’d have to figure out a way to get out of this situation without him. No. I needed him.
“Cara?” Growl repeated. Hearing my name from his mouth always sent a shiver down my back,. That voice, so deep and rough. “What should I order for you?”
I shrugged. I didn’t care. Pizza was the last thing on my mind right now. It was obvious that Growl enjoyed being with me physically but on an emotional level I wasn’t getting anywhere. He always withdrew after sex. As if he couldn’t bear physical closeness after the actual act. I wasn’t sure how to change that. The worst was that I actually wanted to be close to him. The physical closeness of sex made me long for more closeness afterward.
Growl sighed. “I’ll get you tuna,” he said. “You need to eat enough or you’ll get sick.”
At least he was concerned about my physical wellbeing in a way. Though he was probably only looking after his possession. “I don’t think food will be the reason why I’ll get sick,” I muttered.
Growl didn’t say anything but I thought perhaps he’d caught the hint. It was difficult to say since his eyes were always blank or guarded, and his expression just the same. He picked up his phone and ordered two pizzas, still stark naked. I couldn’t stop myself from admiring his muscled butt. When he turned around, I could read the inked text over his breast for the first time. So far I’d always been too busy with other things. The huge black letters read ‘I shall bathe in the blood of my enemies and feast on their fear.’
Martial words that crossed Growl’s entire broad chest. Why had he chosen them? To remind himself of who he was? Perhaps it had something to do with how he’d gotten his scar, but I still wasn’t sure how to breach the subject without making him close up completely. It was obvious that he didn’t like to talk about the topic or people would know the facts. Growl grabbed his pants from the floor and put them on. My own shirt was ripped and I wasn’t really in the mood to put on my tight-fitting jeans. “Do you have a shirt for me?”
For a moment Growl seemed stunned by the request but then he went to his room and returned with a black t-shirt. He held it out to me with an almost hesitant expression. I stood and took the shirt from him, then pulled it over my head. It reached my knees but it was very comfortable. I could feel Growl’s eyes on me the entire time. If I wasn’t mistaken, there was wistfulness on his face. Why? What was he thinking?
His expression turned blank. I stifled a sigh and sank down on the sofa. Growl sat down beside me. Close enough that I could smell his musky scent mixed with sex but without touching me.
“Why don’t you buy kitchen furniture so we can eat there?” I asked when it became clear that he didn’t mind sitting in absolute silence. His head had to be an incredibly exciting place considering how much time he spent there.
“I never needed it. I don’t eat breakfast and I can drink coffee while standing. And we can sit in the living room,” Growl said, pointing at the table in front of us.
“I know, but it would be more cozy to sit in the kitchen than in front of a TV with a table that’s barely reaching our knees.”
Growl shrugged. “I don’t need much.”
That was true.
“Don’t you ever have guests?”
“I don’t have guests.”
“What about family?” I was treading risky ground but it was time to find out more about the man who controlled my body in a scary way.
“I don’t have a family.”
His words reminded me that my own family was at risk. I couldn’t imagine being without family. The mere thought stung in my chest. I would do anything to save the family I had left. I moved a bit closer to Growl and pressed my hand against his chest.
Growl peered at me, then at my hand. He seemed unsure how to react. I could see that he was uncomfortable, but he didn’t push me away.
“You never had a family?” I asked to distract myself from my worry over my own family and the way my own body was springing back to life just from touching Growl’s chest.
My fingers traced the many rigs on Growl’s chest, always finding new paths across his body. Tracing his muscles and scars was a good way to quiet my nervous mind. As long as my fingers remained in motion, my brain seemed to slow down a tad.
“I had a mother,” he said in a low voice.
My fingers froze over his collarbone, surprised by his words. I would have thought he’d avoid the topic. Did that mean he began to trust me?
My gaze went up to his face but he was looking up at the ceiling with an unreadable expression. He didn’t want me to see his eyes, and that only made me more curious to see them. “What happened to her?”
Silence reigned between us for a very long time and I began to worry that I’d messed up my chance to gain Growl’s trust, when he finally said, “She’s dead.”
“How?” I asked. Growl’s hand went up to his throat but he didn’t touch himself there. He seemed to avoid touching his throat altogether, not just the scar.
“The person who slit your throat killed her?” I risked a guess.
For a moment, Growl was silent, and he even seemed to have stopped breathing. “He did. He killed her right in front of me. Made me watch her bleed out. He cut her throat too. But first mine to punish her. He thought I’d die quickly, but my mother was dead within a minute and I kept living.” He sounded almost sorry, as if he wished he’d died that day.
My mouth became dry. “What about your father? Where was he?”
“He’s not dead.” Why wasn’t he answering my second question?
“I can’t believe anyone would do this to an innocent boy.” I traced the letters on his chest. These words, all the scary tattoos, everything began to make sense.
“I wasn’t innocent, not even back then.” His words rumbled in his chest, I could feel it against my palm.
“Why would you say that? How old were you back then?”
“Five.”
God, how could anyone hurt a five-year-old like that? People called Growl a monster, even I thought of him like that, but whoever had almost killed Growl as a small boy was so much worse. “Everyone’s innocent at that age. Nobody’s born bad. You were so small. Why didn’t you try to hunt the person down who did this to you? You’re not the small boy of the past, you have connections and power now. I’m sure Falcone wouldn’t have cared if you’d gone and avenged your mother.”
A short laugh vibrated in his chest. It made the little hairs on my arms stand on end. “Falcone would care.”
“Why? Is it someone he does business with?”
Growl met my gaze square on and the look in his eyes made a horrid suspicion settle in my mind. But I couldn’t be right…
“Falcone was the man who did all this,” Growl said, motioning toward his throat.
I pulled my hand away from his chest. “So,” I said slowly. It was difficult finding the right words, or any words, really. “Falcone killed your own mother and wanted to kill you too and you decide to work for him?” I wanted to understand him but how could I possibly understand something like that? This was so far from normal. It blew my mind.
Growl gave an almost imperceptible nod. His face was unmoved, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes I wouldn’t have noticed a few days ago. I was beco
ming more perceptive and growing used to the small changes in his facial expressions.
“Why?” I whispered. Why would anyone want to work for such a man? Maybe something had been irrevocably damaged when Growl had to watch all that at such a young age. Part of me wanted to reach out to that damaged little boy and squeeze him into a tight hug and tell him everything would be okay. But for one, I wasn’t sure if that boy was still hidden away somewhere in Growl or if he’d shriveled with time and the horrors he’d witnessed. And second, I knew I would be lying to that boy. Few things would be okay in Growl’s life. That boy would be molded into a monster through abuse and cruelty. Perhaps it would have been better if he hadn’t survived in the first place. Not only to spare him the horrors of his life but also to save the many he’d tortured and killed for Falcone.
I’d given up on an answer from Growl when he said, “Because he’s my father.”
I sucked in a deep breath. “Falcone?” I asked because it seemed impossible. I didn’t doubt Falcone had many mistresses beside his wife. A man like him couldn’t be faithful. But it simply seemed impossible that word hadn’t gotten out. That people didn’t mention Falcone’s name in one breath with Growl, the bastard. My eyes searched Growl’s face, but if there was something of Falcone in his features, it remained hidden to me.
He nodded again. “That was one of the reasons why he wanted to get rid of me. And why he killed my mother. She threatened to tell people. Falcone doesn’t let anyone threaten him.”
“He killed your mother. The woman he had a child with,” I said slowly.
Growl didn’t react.
“How could he do that? What kind of monster would do something like that?” I winced, suddenly worried I’d gone too far. For some ridiculous reason, Growl was loyal to his cruel father.
“A monster like me,” he murmured.
“Like father, like son?”
Growl shrugged. I could tell that he was done with our conversation but I was way too agitated to let the topic drop so quickly. “Maybe you shouldn’t take your father’s horrible nature as an excuse to be a monster yourself. Maybe you should strive to be better.”
He let out a low breath, which might have been a laugh, I wasn’t sure.
“I’m not joking.”
He rose to his feet. “I’m not a monster because of my father. I’m a monster because I chose to be.”
I doubted that was the truth. He’d been a young boy when he’d experienced horrors even grown men could hardly imagine. “It’s never too late to change and to make up for your mistakes.”
Growl shook his head. “You’re naïve if you think that’s an option. I won’t change. I don’t want to. My life is good as it is.”
“You’re working for the man who killed your mother. I don’t believe you can live with that.”
“I have for a very long time.”
“If I were you, I’d want to get revenge.”
Growl smiled darkly. “But you aren’t me. And you don’t know me.”
He turned around and left the room. A second later I heard the backdoor open and close.
He was right. I didn’t know him. Yet. But today he’d handed me a few pieces of the puzzle that was him, and I was determined to get the remaining pieces as well.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Cara
I decided to not push Growl further regarding to Falcone and what happened. I had a feeling that he would close up completely if I tried too soon again. At least he didn’t seem too angry about my questions to stop sleeping with me.
When we lay next to each other in my bed after Growl had driven me to three orgasms, my mind was racing for a way to make him stay with me. He usually always left directly after we were done, giving me no chance to get to know him better. We didn’t even touch afterward. Or hadn’t so far at least.
Now Growl’s arm was lightly brushing mine. It wasn’t by accident. Perhaps deep down he longed for closeness beyond just sex?
His eyes were half closed and his breathing was already slowing. His muscled chest glistened with sweat. “What happened to my father after you took me to your house?” I asked.
Growl opened his eyes. “He was dead.”
“I know,” I whispered harshly. “That’s not what I meant. Where is his body? What did you do with it?”
Growl turned his head toward me, frowning. “What does it matter? He’s gone.”
“People bury their dead for a reason. Because they need a place to feel connected to them, a place where they can go to say goodbye or talk to what remains of the people they love. It’s what people do.”
Growl didn’t seem to understand. “Maybe. I can’t see how that helps.”
“You don’t have to understand,” I said quietly. “Just accept it. I really need to know where my father’s body is. I need to say goodbye to him to get peace.”
“He was buried outside the city borders.”
“Buried? So he wasn’t dumped somewhere or worse?”
“I wasn’t there when they buried him. But it’s what they told me.”
“Do you know where it is? Can you take me?”
Growl let out a sigh. He sat up like I’d expected and swung his legs out of bed, turning his back to me. That, too, was covered with tattoos, thorns and roses, skulls and snakes, and intricate black letters that read ‘Pain’, nothing else. There were more scars on his back, shoulders and neck.
“You have to move on.”
I stifled my frustration. He simply couldn’t understand. So many human emotions and habits were foreign to him. I pushed into a sitting position and scooted closer. I hoped it was a good sign that he hadn’t gotten up yet. Perhaps something in him wanted to say with me?
My fingertips grazed the strange round scars that littered his back and upper arms. They didn’t look like shot wounds, more like someone had burned Growl. After a moment of hesitation, I asked quietly. “What are those?”
Growl peered over his shoulder. “Cigarette burns.”
My fingers froze. He sounded so detached, as if we weren’t talking about his body. “Who did this to you?”
“Perhaps I asked someone to do it to me,” he said.
“Why would anyone ask for pain?”
“I like pain. Learned to like it over time.”
“You like it?” I repeated, dropping my hand from his skin. Did he ask someone to burn him? Was he that messed up? The idea didn’t sit well with me. Someone who did this to themselves would probably do much worse to others. Though why that surprised me was ridiculous. I knew what kind of man Growl was. More monster than man.
A corner of his mouth twitched in an almost smile. That small gesture managed to change his entire face, making him seem more approachable, less dangerous. But the usual hard line returned to his lips too quickly. “Not getting burned. I didn’t ask for those scars,” he said roughly. “When I was a kid, I wasn’t into pain yet.”
My eyes trailed over the many burn marks, counting almost a dozen. “Someone did this to you when you were a kid?” I paused, unsure about the next question. “Your mother?” That would at least explain why Growl didn’t want to avenge her.
Growl shook his head. “She wasn’t the best mother. She worked as a whore. Her addiction and job didn’t really help with raising a kid, but she never beat me or hurt me physically.”
I licked my lips. This was dangerous territory I was treading. My curiosity made me eager for more, but at the same time I was equally scared of the horrors I’d hear and what they would make me feel. With every piece of Growl’s past and his character that I uncovered it became more difficult to not feel compassion, and more. “Then who did?” I asked despite my worries.
“After my mother died and I was released from hospital, Falcone gave me to one of his henchman, Bud, who was responsible for one of the brothels. He was a pimp, really, and didn’t want a kid around. But he couldn’t give me away if he wanted to get in Falcone’s good graces, and so he kept me. But he was a sadistic bastard a
nd when he grew tired of beating the shit out of his whores he liked to torture me.”
“Why didn’t Falcone stop him?” I shook my head. “I don’t know why I’m even asking. The guy almost killed you. It’s not like he’s a decent human being, or anything close to that.”
“He didn’t kill me, though he could have. And he never actually touched me. He let one of his men cut my throat. And Bud always made sure that he beat and burnt me where nobody could see it.”
“So you think Falcone didn’t know what was going on?”
“The whores knew and they liked me. They could have told him about it.”
“But he didn’t do anything,” I concluded.
Growl shrugged. “The beatings made me stronger. After a while, you don’t experience pain like other people do. It becomes familiar, almost like a friend. You stop fearing it, and even like it.”
That explained the tattoo on his back.
I moved so I could see his face and was stunned by the almost serene expression on his face. I hoped it was a perfect mask because if he was really this calm about the whole thing, there was little hope for him. When his eyes met mine, I saw a flicker, a crack in the perfect mask he’d built over time and almost exhaled in relief. I put my chin down on his shoulder, bringing my face closer to his. “There are other things that make people strong, not just pain. It’s horrible what happened to you. Someone should have protected you. All the people who stood by while you were tortured, they should rot in hell.”
“You shouldn’t care,” Growl murmured.
“I know.” I didn’t say more. Did I really care? The man in front of me today didn’t deserve my pity or help. He wasn’t the helpless boy from long ago anymore. And yet part of me felt for him. I couldn’t help it.
For several heartbeats we stared at each other and unspoken words seemed to hang in the air between us. I was so close to breaking down Growl’s walls, so close to gaining his trust.
“Bud’s dead now. Got what he deserved,” Growl said eventually.
It took me a moment to free myself from the strange connection I’d felt before. “Did you kill him?”