Page 22 of My Violent Valentine

And the most horrifying thing about it? I’m not still upset. I don’t understand. I was so upset when it happened. I had a complete fucking meltdown. But it’s almost like all the feelings I released were captured, put inside a bottle, and then placed on a shelf out of my reach. This can’t be normal. Even for a killer.

I want to stay mad at Brian. I want to hate him, but I don’t think it crossed his mind for even a moment that he should do anything other than shoot her. When he did the original recon he knew Cole’s daughter was a senior about to graduate this spring, so as far as Brian was concerned she was pretty much an adult. Of course I couldn’t use the same reasoning I’d used to save a five year old.

He was thinking about us. Protecting me. But should we really be protected? I don’t know anymore. All I know is that I’m slipping farther and farther down a path that I won’t be able to come back from. It’s a one-way ticket. As each little piece of my soul is chiseled away, I won’t be able to find it again to put it back where it belongs. I run my fingertips over the handle of the carved ivory on my newest knife and just breathe.

I wonder if I’ll have a bruise on my throat tomorrow from that one guy. I wonder if Brian will.

Watching that girl bleed out should have lingering effects on me. It should create trauma. What is wrong with me that it doesn’t? Am I just so well practiced at being human, I’ve convinced myself I still am? What if I’m more like Brian than I want to admit? What then? Can I allow myself to fall back into the decadent blackness and let go of conscience forever? It would certainly be easier that way.

I remember the first time I felt this eerie calm. It was when Brian brought me back from Japan after he rescued me from Matsumoto. I remember calmly eating my dinner while screams from the woman Brian was torturing for putting me in danger drifted to our dungeon room.

I felt like a duck floating along a clear peaceful lake, not a care in the world. I remember feeling a little itchy. And that was all. I feel like that now. Why is Brian so on edge when I am so calm all of a sudden? Am I crazy? Am I in shock? Have I lost my mind? Is Brian picking up the shards of soul I’m losing? Will he become the good one while I become the bad one?

I know he doesn’t feel bad about the girl. He’s shaken about that last fight and what a close call it was for both of us.

We may or may not have left any evidence behind but there is definitely physical evidence in this car because we are covered in blood. Not our own. I’m finding myself grateful for all the plastic. We don’t talk as Brian parks in front of the motel room. Our room is on the isolated back end of the property where no one will see our comings and goings. It’s the only reason we aren’t still at the Biltmore.

Nice places have cameras. Nice places have people who notice things and like to be helpful. Places like this, nobody sees anything, and if they do, they aren’t getting paid enough to speak.

I take the key from him and unlock the door. We stand inside the room, quietly staring at each other. There is so much fucking blood.

“We should shower this off,” I say.

But Brian is still staring at me. He takes a step closer, and instinctively I take a step back. This dance continues until my back hits the wall, and there’s nowhere left to go.

“Do you want to shower first or should I…” I don’t know why I’m still babbling right now.

He presses a finger to my lips, silencing me.

My eyes shut involuntarily as the back of his hand strokes my face. I lean into him. I don’t even know if he’s getting more blood on me. And I don’t care. He’s touching me. We’re here together in this room, both of us alive. And he’s touching me.

He pushes my hair out of my face, then he takes my chin in his grip and pulls me closer. I gasp against his invading tongue. His kisses are slow, languid, touching me like gentle rain pattering against a tin roof.

It takes everything in me not to start crying again because the terrifying cold loss of emotion that was beginning to creep over me like icy vines has receded again. When his mouth is on mine, I feel briefly like I’m still human. I wonder if he feels the same.

“Brian…” I whisper when he pulls back enough for me to speak.

“Shhhhh.”

He turns me to face the wall and places my hands flat against it.

“Brian! Bloody fingerprints!”

His mouth is suddenly at my ear. “Shhhh, we’ll strip the wallpaper and take it with us.”

Does he mean as a trophy? I can’t think right now.

He pulls my hair to the side and licks the back of my neck and then starts to kiss and gently bite me there. A moan escapes my mouth as I arch back, hungry for more of him in spite of everything. He wraps my soul around his finger and just drags me along for the ride.

Then he starts to unhook my corset. After the last hook, it hits the ground, submitting to Brian’s insistent desire far more quickly than I do. The Kevlar follows the corset.

From behind me he unbuttons and unzips my leather pants, dragging them partly down my thighs. I can feel his erection against my lower back as he presses into me.

My breath catches in my throat when he pulls out a knife and holds it where I can see it.

“Brian…” I whisper. “What are you doing?”

“Shhhh,” he says again. He drags the tip of the blade lightly down my back, causing an involuntary shiver, and I’m not sure if it’s from fear or desire. He stops and cuts my thong off, then he tosses the shredded red silk on the floor.

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