My brows furrow. “What do you meanbroken?”
“I mean, I’m okay. I shouldn’t be. I just killed someone, and I…” Her mouth clamps shut, cutting off her words.
“You what?” I pry.
“I liked it,” she whispers.
“You liked it?”
“I liked that I killed him, Connor. I know it’s not right. I should feel remorse or something. But I just don’t.” Aurora stands and starts pacing the room. “My family has always thought I was crazy—insane—and I’m starting to think they’re right.”
I push to my feet and walk over to her, stopping her movements. I take her hands in mine and squeeze. “You are not crazy, Aurora. You are not insane either. You’re just…youand there is absolutely fucking nothing wrong with you.”
She smiles a little. “You’re just saying that because you want to get into my panties.”
“I’m saying it because it’s the fucking truth. There isn’t a single thing about you that I don’t like. And who cares if you enjoyed killing the asshole who shot your cousin? You were protecting yourself, Aurora. There is nothing wrong with that,” I tell her. “And I’m fucking glad you did.” I lean in and press my lips against her forehead. “I was scared. When I heard what happened, I thought… Well, I don’t want to lose you. Also, it’sthe first time you’ve killed someone. You could very well be in shock.”
Aurora drops my hands and looks away. “It’s not the first time.”
“It’s not? Okay, killing someone to protect yourself or your family still doesn’t make you a fucking serial killer. There is nothing wrong with you,” I assure her. “And I will keep saying it until you believe it because I can tell you don’t.”
“You don’t get it, Connor. I liked it,” she huffs.
“I heard you.”
“I liked seeing his blood spill onto my hands. I liked the fear I saw in his eyes and I liked when I felt his body go limp,” she explains. “I liked it all. I wanted to do it again.”
“Okay. You wanna go out now? I’m sure we can find some scumbags who deserve to die,” I offer her.
Aurora shakes her head. “Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop pretending that it’s normal. It’s not,” she says.
“You’re right. It’s not normal. But it’s you. And I love you regardless of if you want to become New York’s next serial killer. I’ll even help you, if it makes you happy. But I love you no matter what.” My heart races. I haven’t said those words out loud before.
Neither of us moves. A tear falls down Aurora’s face. “You love me?” she whispers.
“I love you,” I repeat.
“Even though I’m crazy?”
“You are not crazy. But I’d love you even if you were,” I tell her.
“I love you too,” she says, and her voice shakes with emotion.
I take two steps, closing the space between us. “Good, because I wasn’t really going to give you any other choice.” My arms wrap around her waist, pulling her against me.
“What are we going to do?”
“About what?”
“Us?”
“We’re going to sleep on it,” I tell her.
“No, you can’t sleep here.” She shakes her head. “We need to figure out how to sneak you out without anyone seeing you. Or shooting you.”