Page 94 of Dark Flame
HARLOW
As I’m slidinginto a bed owned by a practical stranger—Carina—Morgan knocks on the door before poking her head in.
“Hey, wanted to make sure all is good.”
I’m not even sure what “good” is anymore, but I force my mouth into somewhat of a smile, even if it ends up more as a grimace. “I appreciate the bed. Carina’s okay with it?”
“She’s sleeping in Jasper’s spare room, which isn’t anything new. She uses the place to get away from me. You’ll see her in the morning, because I doubt she’ll be able to stay away much longer.”
“Looking forward to it,” I say, and it doesn’t feel like a lie. “Is he…?”
“He’s down in the basement. It’s windowless, so he’ll be safe.”
“Thank you.” I shouldn’t care about the vampire who would have sold pieces of me for his own amusement, but a part of me does. There’s no name for it other than Stockholm syndrome. It’s the part of me that isn’t sure whether to hate him or not. The side of me that latched onto him outside, craved more,wantedto believe his claims.
“Have a good sleep.” Morgan’s yawn tapers into a sleepy chuckle. “We’ve all been awake too long. Night.”
“Night,” I reply to the partially shut door. A second later, her feet tread down the hallway towards her bedroom, and I recline against unfamiliar pillows, settling into Carina’s bed.
For weeks now, all I’ve done is sleep in unfamiliar beds. Ever since Alec took me, it’s been cells, a spare room, his bed, and now Carina’s. At some point, I’ll need to return home to clear it out and sell it; Morgan will eventually expect me to move back into my family home, where the last bed I had would have been a child’s.
My teeth press into the side of my cheek, biting down on the emotions threatening to take over. It won’t do me good stressing about any of that, especially with how tired I am. The bed is comfortable, and sleep is but a moment away.
It’s sweet of you to care about my well-being,his sarcastic voice echoes around the chambers of my mind, and like that, I’m awake again. I completely forgot about this nifty (irritating) development.
“I don’t,” I whisper into the room, since I can’t reply in his head, assuming his hearing can catch it.
Liar. It’s okay. Your resistance was always one of the things I enjoyed about our time together. Breaking you down, getting you to realize.
“Realize what? How much I hated you?”
How much you tried your damndest not to see a man beneath the monster.
“You are a monster.”
Yes. You know, even before our bond, I could pick up a sense of your emotions. Your heartbeat is quite telling, and mortals often release scents of fear and desire, so I had an idea. There was more than one time you looked beyond my revenge.
Maybe. Like when he told me about his family and, for the briefest moment, I felt bad for him. Before he ruined it with more truths.
Or when he took me from the cell after it got too suffocating. Although, that one was all his fault, because if he never put me down there to begin with, it wouldn’t have been a problem.
Or when he climbed on top of me in bed and for a second, I forgot I hated him. Forgot anything but how much my body craved his.
Sitting in a witch’s basement isn’t how I pictured this day going. Then again, everything with you has been unexpected.
“If you’re looking for an apology?—”
I’m not,he interrupts, the sharpness of his mental voice as cutting as his real one.I’m stating this isn’tanythinglike I ever pictured happening. Sitting in the basement of a witch’s home, not as a captive, while my Bride is in someone else’s bed. You should be in mine.
The possessive growl attached to his words makes my stomach tingle. Stupid body.
I know you hate me, Harlow, and truthfully, I hate myself too. Outside, you were right about the bond pulling me to you. But that wasn’t only it, and what I said was also the truth. From the moment we met, there was something different about you. Something alluring that sparked a feeling besides hate. But you were wrong about something as well. When we met, my obsession with you began. Prior to that, I was obsessed with revenge. Nothing more, nothing less. I didn’t view the Sinclairs as people, but tools towards my goal. But you…the moment you ran through your neighbourhood, I couldn’t get enough. You think I would have visited just any prisoner? No, I never intended on dropping by your cell until the party. You think I would have cared about your claustrophobia? No, but you’ve been casting a spell on me since that moment, long before your powers returned. It’s a different kind of magick; I feel it. You screamed my name, and I didn’t even think, I just knew I had to get to you. Had to ease your agony. I couldn’t—can’t—stay away, Hellion, bond aside. I don’t understand the connection between us, but it’s solidified the fight I was having with myself every fucking day. The side of me that demanded revenge versus the other half, becoming so addicted to you, not wanting to see you harmed, even by me. I couldn’t see you broken—can’tsee you break. It's why I hated you more when the cure didn’t work. You wouldn’t fit in the little box I had prepared for you. Instead, you couldn’t suit my revenge, but I also couldn’t dispose of you like I would have anyone else.
My heart pounds wildly, my eyes unfocused as I try to imprint every syllable from his speech into my head permanently.
“Why are you telling me all this?”
Vampires are known predators, and no matter what he claims, I’ll always be the prey. That speech…it’s simply one more example of the hunt he’s putting on. It’s a method to lure me in, nothing more.
