Page 69 of A Drop of Anguish
I nod. “I hate that I’m weak. I hate that I’m meaningless. I hate that I wasn’t there to stop Mr. Vandozer from hurting my sister. I hate that I’m stupid enough to be jealous of a dead girl. I hate that—I hate that you’d rather have her here than me.”
Jarron’s eyes turn completely black in an instant. Horns sprout from his head.
I stand and stumble a few steps back until I can feel the heat of the fireplace licking at my legs.
The hair on my arms rises as he stalks forward. I reroute my retreat with careful steps backward. His movements are smooth and strange.
My back hits brick. He presses his hands to either side of my head. “Say that last one again?” he growls.
“I-I…” My voice trembles, his powerful presence looms over me. “I hate that you’d rather have her here than me?” I whisper uncertainly.
His canines elongate as he closes his eyes against some wave of emotion I can’t identify. He winces, his muscles tense, but when he opens his eyes, it’s very clearly Jarron staring at me, and he is not pleased.
“Why in fucking hell would you think that?” He forces the words out, jaw clenched.
My lips part, but no words come, only quick breaths. My thoughts are confused and scattered. His body is so close I can feel his warmth. I want to press into him, but I won’t let myself. I’m not even sure where he’s at now. Is this Jarron or his demon? Maybe it doesn’t matter. His demon once told me they were the same, he is simply part of him. But his demon is battling him. How does that work? Is that what’s happening now?
His jaw clenches so tightly I’m concerned he’ll break a tooth. Is he in pain now?
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
“Everything is wrong,” he says, leaning forward until his forehead is against the wall next to my ear.
Without permission, my hands find their way up to his chest. His chest stops moving. The whole world stops, I think, at that first touch. Finally, he releases a breath, tension slipping from his body like a cloak that drops to the floor.
“I don’t know what’s going on in your head, Candice, but let me be perfectly clear about this.” He pulls back, fingers gripping my chin forcefully.
I stare into his black eyes, trying not to tremble.
Is the shaking from terror or desperate desire? Because I’m feeling a whole lot of both right now.
He speaks slowly, gaze so intensely pinned to me I couldn’t move if I wanted to. “I want you. Not her.”
Could he really mean that? I don’t know if I believe him. Maybe when Liz died his connection to her died too? Or maybe Jarron truly, desperately desires me the way I desire him, and it’s only his demon that feels differently? That instinctual, beastly part of him.
Maybe… Is that why he’s battling his demon so hard? Is that what’s causing him such pain?
That’s what Trevor was implying, right? Their demon souls don’t always agree with their conscious minds. Who wins the battle? The human part of Jarron desires me. Maybe he always did.
“Do you?” I ask uncertainly.
A soft growl reverberates from his chest.
“Because you said I was your duty, not your desire.”
His nostrils flare. “That didn’t come out how I’d intended it,” he says breathlessly. “You are everything I want.”
That’s not new information but somehow seems so significant.
It still hurts that I don’t know who would win that battle if Liz were around. But Liz is gone. There is no more battle.
“The difference is the how,” he continues, searching for the right words to explain. “My demon has different intentions than I do, and sometimes, it’s—sometimes, we are warring. It takes a lot of effort to stop him from taking over, but I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“Would he? Hurt people?”
I recall his violent speech about killing wolves in my honor, and I realize I already know that answer.
“Yes. But not you. He will not hurt you. But I cannot promise the safety of your friends—especially Thompson—if he were to take control in the wrong circumstance.”
