Page 39 of The Hellkeeper

“What happened?”

“I killed him,” I say. “And I escaped.”

She blanches. Fear.

No. Please, no.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I beg. “I would never hurt you. Never.”

Her eyes dart across my face, searching for truth.

“I worship you,” I whisper. “I would burn the world for you. Do you understand?”

She nods slowly, but it’s not enough.

I see the way her gaze flickers back to my scar.

“It disgusts you?” I murmur, and it kills me how raw my voice sounds.

“What?”

“I promise I’ll treat you so well, you won’t even notice the scar is there anymore. No man with perfect skin would ever treat you the way I treat you.”

That thing on my face is gnarly. It’s scared kids I’ve walked past on numerous occasions. I never cared. But the thought that it disgusts her makes me feel sick.

Is that why she won’t kiss me?

“I like it,” she whispers.

A slow, wicked grin spreads across my lips.

“You like it,” I echo.

She presses her lips together, refusing to repeat herself.

“Then you like me,” I tease.

For the first time, she doesn’t deny it.

Chapter Fourteen

Amelia

Isit in the passenger seat, hands resting over my too-full stomach, eyes heavy with the kind of sleep that creeps in after warmth, sugar, and laughter. That was the best date of my life. Not that I have anything to compare it to. Still, I don’t think anything could beat this.

The car slows to a stop. I reach for the handle, but a softtskpulls my hand back. Before I can blink, he’s already out. He opens my door, his hand extended. My monster is a gentleman in the light, but we both know we live in nothing but darkness. I take his hand.

I step out, wobbling slightly. His hand catches my waist.

“Careful,” he says.

We walk side by side. I don’t even bother pretending I think he’s leaving after this. He hasn’t missed a single night since I arrived. Not one.

Inside the restaurant, it’s quiet. Just us and the hum of the refrigerator compressors. I walk toward the back, and he follows. I kick off my heels, sighing in relief, and stretch my arms toward the ceiling.

“Full?” he asks behind me.

“Stuffed,” I say with a small laugh, turning to face him. “You didn’t need to order dessert too. You’re trying to kill me.”

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