Page 61 of Prey for Me

My father.

His crimes against humanity are well known, with not justice. No peace.

He may be the monster who imprisoned you, but I grew up in his prison. I know what type of monster he is.Intimately.

He face twitches, distorts, cycling through fear, loathing, and anguish. And then, understanding washes over them all until his expression is empty.

Such odd reactions.

“And I’m sorry. I really am. But I was fourteen, and my sister was only twelve. We just lost our mom. What was I supposed to do—“

Stop making excuses.

I’m not—

Raphael slams his fist against the wall right beside my head, crouching down until we’re eye level, his broad back and mane of hair blocking the light.

“Then that means you were his first,” Raphael says so softly I have to strain to hear his usually gruff voice.

His first what?

Victim.

The word hangs in the air like a noose, and I struggle not to step into it and hang myself. The pain is immense, so much so my body quakes. It wants to break free, my trauma, my terror, and my tears. But I won’t let him win.

I’m not, I choke out.

I’m a survivor. I survived. I’ll…

You don’t have to apologize for that bastard. Never apologize for being born to a monster.

I wasn’t his only victim.

He nods in confusion.

I reach for him and frown, intimately…

instead of some snarky comment or anger about the fact that I saw him in a moment of weakness, as if trauma is weakness Raphael just freezes

Then his face crumbles and for the first time since we met since that fleeting moment and the force, I feel like he’s truly seeing me

Does he pity me? fear me? I can’t really tell all I can do is hold my breath as he strokes my arms. It’s only when my shaking subsides that I realize he’s keeping me warm.

He was once a sinfully sexy sworn enemy, holding a grudge against my family. Holding hate in his heart for me that metastasized like a cancer in mine. And we fed off that violent urge to destory each other. But now, we are conntect but this brutal bond. One so sick and twisted I refuse to put it into words.

His kisses, gentle lips moving against my forehead and a ritualistic motion as he mutters something in the language I can’t understand. A language I should understand…

The Kingdom of Erewon, the island and name under which I was born.

“Raphael…”

“What?” I urge as he looks at me.

“Raphael Foxcroft, of the Noble House Foxcroft.”

I still. Foxcroft. How the hell had I been that far away from the truth.

He runs his tongue against the throbbing pulse in my neck, moaning as his teeth sink ever so slightly into the mark at the base. Raw heat floods my entire body overwhelmingly my fear and confusion and rage. Like a puzzle piece fitting into place. So close–

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