Page 87 of Tempt Me

Fallon didn’t speak now. She put her clothing back into place and looked at me only through the reflection of the mirror. I turned my back to her.

I couldn’t stare at the hurt in her eyes. It was wrong to admit how I felt, knowing I was leaving her for good. She reached her hand out to me, and I stepped forward.

“No, Little Voyeur. I...can’t.”

Her hand fell, and she looked angry. “So you can fuck me, but you can’t love me?”

I deserve that.

“Yep,” I said with as much bite as I could throw at her. If she could hate me, she would be free. “Just go back to your rich fucking life and stay the fuck out of my way, okay? Go fuck adifferent professor. I am sure there are loads of options for your tight little body.”

That fiery anger concealed her hurt.

She raised her hand again, but this time she smacked the fuck out of my face. My head jerked back, and the baby in the other room awoke from the sound. I started to walk away, but Fallon gave me a look that held all her rage and pain.

“Why are you so cruel? There is not an ounce of love in your cold fucking heart.”

I wiped the blood off my lip. “Maybe you’re right, Little Voyeur. All the love I had to give was ripped out of my soul the minute I lost them. Now that’s all there is…anger and hate.”

She was shaking, her voice a broken whisper barely audible through the baby’s cries.

“I don’t deserve your hate. I didn’t take them from you. I was never your enemy.”

I walked out of the bathroom, and she followed me on my heels.

Keeping my back turned, I said, “I am only able to be who I am. I can’t fucking love you, okay? I can’t. I told you in the beginning that I couldn’t. Don’t act so surprised. I can’t protect you. I can’t give you some happy fucking life with picket fences and babies. I can’t be what you need. What you deserve.”

I walked to the door and threw it open ready to fucking retreat like the coward I was, but then her pained soft voice broke through to me, and I could see her beautiful broken reflection on the glass in front of me.

“Can’t…or won’t?”

Thirty Two

Love: Affection based on admiration, benevolence, or common interests.

Why did I have to love him?

That asshole fucking left.

He walked out of the door and, subsequently, my life without even the decency to look at me when he ran away. I rocked Xavier. His cries rivaled my own. I couldn’t pick up the pieces of this little guy any more than I could fix myself.

Pharaoh didn’t hurt his family.

He buried his soul when he buried them. He said himself that every ounce of love was snuffed out the moment their lives were extinguished. Maybe if I could just find who killed them, I could at least give him the peace he deserved, even if he rejected me.

He was never mine. I was betrothed to a monster, and would be forced to live the life of a broken housewife until death finally let me sleep.

No.

I had to find out what happened to Ariah and Xenia. Maybe in the process of saving my professor’s soul, I could save mine, too.

As if summoned by my thoughts, the door to the room was shoved open. I hoped it was Pharaoh coming to grovel for being a clueless asshole, but instead it was Ferdinand.

“What are you doing with that thing, Pet?” he said, walking up and grimacing at Xavier. “I had to cut my business trip short because of all this buzz of a serial killer. I mean, honestly, what kind of media gives such a talented killer a name like a funeral director?”

I sighed. “I don’t know, dear.”

“It is insulting to the cunning of this individual. They clearly take their time in presenting their kills in such a fashion. To be demeaned by such trivial civil service workers is blasphemy!”

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