Page 62 of Reckoning

My eyes snap open. My awkwardness turns to anger. “I will do no such thing.”

He shakes his head, moving closer. “Do you not get it? How close you were to danger?”

“Oh, I knew.” I retort. “But it was worth it, after what they did I had to do something, I had to…”

“Stop.” He murmurs placing his hand on mine and I stare at where we’re suddenly making contact. Skin on skin. Sure, he’s touched me before but this feels so different. Right now I’m not in the middle of some pre-orgasm haze. I’m not begging him to make me come. Nor am I clinging to him for dear life.

“Sofia, I won’t have you putting yourself in danger.”

“Like you can stop me.”

He narrows his eyes and for the first time I see it, that ruthless man that everyone else in this city is so petrified of. Maybe I should consider my words better. Just because he enjoys playing with me doesn’t mean he’s going to always be kind.

“Why do you care?” I ask.

He blinks, looking as though he’s weighing up the wisdom of his next words. “I know what it is to want revenge, I know how it feels to be wronged, to need to do something…”

“You have no idea what it feels like to be me.” I hiss. Christ, does he see me as just a victim too? Is that it? Besides, whatever this man has experienced, I know it doesn’t come close to the horror of what Otto put me through.

“Perhaps not. But I do know what happened to you.”

My heart suddenly thumps so loudly. I jerk away, as though I’ve been shocked. “Whatever you think you know…” I begin but he cuts across me.

“Who do you think is responsible for Christian Moran’s death? For Danny Campball’s too?”

My breath catches. I hate the fear that rushes through me at the sound of just their names.

“I killed them.” He states. “I killed your husband too. I strung him up like the pig he was and I have hunted every man I can find who touched you.”

My eyes widen. I know I must look afraid of him but I’m not. I just don’t understand why he would feel compelled to do such a thing when he doesn’t even know me.

And yet that answers it, I’m not being set up for murder. Apparently this was some sort of justice I was being delivered instead.

“I killed them for you, Little Devil. That’s why I can’t have you risking your life, because if you’re gone, there’s no point to any of it.”

“Whatisthe point?” I whisper.

He frowns confused and part of me wants to smile at the way he looks. He doesn’t seem the kind of man that would ever feel something as human as confusion.

“The point,” He says, “Is that you get justice.”

“Why?”

“Why are you questioning it?”

“I’m not questioning why I deserve it, I’m questioning why you feel so compelled to give me it?” I state.

I expect him to deflect. I expect him to give some half-assed answer about how it’s the right thing. Instead his lips curl. “You know why, Sofia. Deep down, you know exactly why.”

I stare back at him, waiting for the fear to hit. Waiting for the panic because it’s obvious what this is. What he wants. What, in so many ways, he’s already taken.

“I’m…” I trail off, dropping my gaze. I don’t know how to answer. I don’t know how to respond in a way that doesn’t make me sound like a child, or worse, a victim.

He puts his hand back on mine. “Let me give you the justice you deserve. Let me do this for you.”

“While I what?” I reply, “Just stay here in your bed?”

His lips curl while my face heats worse than ever. “In my bed if that’s where you choose to be. But I will not keep you here. If you stay it’s because you want to, not because you feel like you have some obligation to me.”

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