I’ll succumb.
And we’ll share.
Then he’ll destroy.
I know it. I know it like I know the triangle of freckles that dot my left shoulder. And I know myself well enough to know that this forced seclusion will seal my fate with him. Part of me looks forward to it—to his kiss, to his touch, to having time to delve as far into his life as he’ll let me—but part of me dreads the end. Because it will come. And it will be brutal.
Dad cups my cheeks and leans forward to kiss my forehead. He lingers for a few seconds too long, causing me to wonder if he’s more afraid than he’s letting on. And, if so, what he’s afraid of.
EIGHTEEN
Jasper
I’ve had to do a lot of unsavory things in my life. I was in the military for years, working missions that required some . . . questionable things. I never got into the morality of it. I never trusted my moral compass, not when I grew up the way I did, with a monster for a father. No, I always trusted the judgment of those I work for, those who gave me orders. I trusted that the missions were justified and that they’re what kept people safe in the long run. When I took this job, I had my own reasons for wanting to find the Colonel. I don’t particularly like that there was the collateral damage of a woman—his daughter—but those are details that I can’t afford to get too hung up on. I need answers.
But this . . . this takes it to a whole new level. What kind of person would agree to something like this? What kind of person would use a woman to find her father, knowing what I have to do, and then agree to this? I’m keeping her safe until the Colonel gets me the proof I need, but even then, my orders won’t change.
I know what’s going to happen. We will end up sleeping together. I can practically smell the want on her. Don’t get me wrong, I want it, too. I want it bad. I want her bad. But even when that happens, it will be with the knowledge of what’s to come, of how I’ll betray her. What kind of person could do that?
A monster, that’s who.
And I’m that monster.
I came to terms with it a long time ago. My father was a monster. According to him, my brother was a monster. I guess I always knew I had it in me, too. It’s why I did what I did, so that my mother wouldn’t have to suffer through knowing how I turned out. It’s just never felt quite like this, though. This . . . bitter. This sick. This dirty.
But will that stop me? Will that stop me from sinking into her delicious, willing body?
No.
Because I’m the monster.
—
Muse hasn’t said a single word since we left. I could understand her reticence on the trip here, but now . . . I assumed she’d pommel me with questions. Yet she hasn’t opened her mouth. She’s just stared out the window, into the night.
“My mother used to do that when she was worrying about something,” I tell Muse when I see her playing with the charm of a necklace I’ve noticed she keeps hidden under her shirt.
Muse glances down at the small, silver disk she’s been rubbing against her lip for the last hour.
“This was my mother’s. I found it under the edge of her bed after she left.”
“What is it?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Some sort of charm. The back side is missing, so I can’t really tell what it’s supposed to be.”
“I’m surprised you kept it.”
At this she turns to look questioningly at me. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You said you wouldn’t look for her because she didn’t want you and your dad. I just assumed . . .”
“What? That I didn’t love her? That I haven’t missed her every day for the last twenty years?”
“I guess.”
She turns away. From the corner of my eye, I see her chest rise and fall with her sigh. “Unfortunately, that’s not how love works. No matter what she did, she was my mother. Nothing will change that.”
“How do you think love is supposed to work? How does it work for you?”
“It holds you captive, whether you want it to or not. It never lets you go, no matter how much you want to be set free.”
“Yet you were upset because Matt didn’t love you like you wanted to be loved. Is that what you’d want for him?”
Glassy emerald eyes slide onto mine and stop. “Yes. But I want love to be wanted. I want to be wanted.”
“I feel sure that wasn’t the problem between you two.”
“And why is that?”
“I can’t imagine a man not wanting you.”
At this, she turns in her seat to face me. She looks all too eager to talk now. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to pull her out of her shell. Damn guilt.