Page 44 of Forbidden Harvest

“It wasn’t his absence that did it,” she murmurs, her fingers picking at a loose thread on her dress. “The darkness was there long before that.”

My brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

She lets out a shaky exhale, meeting my gaze. Her eyes are haunted like she’s reliving some long-buried trauma.

“I’ve never told anyone…”

The vulnerability in her voice cuts me to the core. “He hurt you.” It’s not a question.

She nods. “He used to touch me and come into my bedroom at night when I was about six.”

White-hot fury lances through me, my hands clenching into fists. That sick fuck better pray he’s dead for laying a hand on her. The thought of my Aria, so innocent and sweet, being violated like that.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” I snarl, every muscle in my body tensed like a coiled snake about to strike. “I’ll tear that twisted piece of shit apart with my bare hands for what he did to you.”

Aria’s eyes widen, and she quickly reaches out to grab my wrist as if sensing the violence simmering beneath the surface. “Didn’t your dad tell you that my dad died when I was eight?”

My brow furrows. “No, I always just assumed…” I trail off, realizing I’m an asshole for assuming her dad left her mom and her. Considering Aria and I were never close like that as kids, it just never came up.

“When I was eight years old, I...” Aria falters, swallowing hard. “There was an incident.”

“What kind of incident?” I demand, fighting to keep my rage in check.

Aria’s throat works as she struggles to find the words. “The night before he died, he told me I was ready to become a woman.” Her throat bobs. “He’d been making me pleasure him a lot and touching me more, and I knew he was going to do something far more terrible…”

My beautiful, innocent Aria, tainted by the sick depravities of a man who should have been her protector. A man she shouldhave trusted. Instead, she was preyed upon at such a young age. A crimson haze of pure, blinding rage clouds my vision, and I fight the urge to put my fist through the nearest wall.

“He got what he deserved a long time ago.” I search her gaze, seeing the truth reflected there.

“How?” I demand. “How did that depraved fuck meet his end?”

A dark, haunted look crosses Aria’s features.

“Because of me,” she whispers. “I made sure of it myself the next day.”

She’s confessing to taking the life of her dad, a sick excuse of a man who stained her innocence and dragged her into the darkness. And I feel an even deeper connection to her. My stepsister, my twisted counterpart.

“You killed him?” I confirm.

Aria holds my gaze, her chin tilted up defiantly. “He fell off his ladder while trying to fix the roof. A tragic accident.” There’s an undercurrent of pride in her voice like she’s daring me to judge her.

Instead, I cross the room in two long strides and pull her roughly into my arms. Our mouths collide in a passionate kiss, my tongue tangling with hers as I taste the dark confession on her lips.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” I whisper, cupping her cheeks. “You did what needed to be done. Took back the control he stole from you.”

Aria pulls back, her breath coming in short gasps. “You’re not disgusted by me? By what I did?”

I shake my head. “You’ve got no idea how much it turns me on knowing you have the capacity for such darkness. It’s a side of you I want to explore, to push even further.”

“Really?” she asks. “You’re not just saying that?”

Capturing her mouth in another mind-numbing kiss, I growl, “You’re mine, Aria. Every part of you, including the darkness. I want it all.”

“What about you? Have you ever taken a life?”

I smirk, remembering the night I’d pushed her boyfriend off the bleachers at school, sending him plummeting to his death. He’d touched her, and I had no choice but to silence him permanently.

“Once,” I admit, meeting her gaze unflinchingly. “Your first boyfriend. He got too close to you. I had to eliminate the threat.”

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