Page 21 of Freaks
“Is that supposed to be your ironic attempt at looking out for me, after you came here to kill me?”
Zeth huffed—maybe the suggestion of laughter. “No, not even close. If I cared, I’d probably be warninghimaway fromyou.”
My cheeks burned with…with…I didn’t knowwhatI was feeling as Zeth Mayfair walked away. After Fix untied me and we went back up to the penthouse, I stood at the window, leaning my forehead against the glass, looking out over the sprawling city while my mind raced.
Fix hovered behind me, close enough for his scent and the warmth of his body to affect me in the most dizzying of ways, but not close enough to touch. He was a looming presence, intense and ominous, just like the storm that still warred over the skyscrapers and the flashing gunmetal grey of the river that wound like a serpent across the vista before me.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, Sera.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. If anyone else had demanded information from me so bluntly, I would have told them to go fuck themselves. Fix had certain privileges, though. He could command anything he liked of me, because I could do the same to him. We’d reached an equilibrium. For everything he took, I took something. For everything he gave, I gave something. Without even trying, we’d reached this perfect balance of submission and dominance that I knew I’d never achieve with another human being.
I turned around, leaning my back against the window. “What’s to stop him? Zeth? What’s to stop him from telling his boss he didn’t complete the job as soon as he gets back to Seattle? Or worse, what’s to say he’s not going to wait for us to leave tonight and blow up the damn truck?”
“He definitely isn’t going to blow up the truck.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I left it outside The Barrows. Oscar probably had it torched.”
“Jesus! Can you be any more infuriating? I’m looking for some reassurance here, you jerk.”
Fix ran his tongue over his bottom lip, which was split and a little swollen. I couldn’t tear my eyes from his mouth as he approached. The color of his eyes had darkened to oxidized silver. “He won’t say anything to Charlie,” he said. “He won’t turn back and kill either of us. Iknowhe won’t, because he and I…” He shook his head, his dark brows drawing together. “He and I might be like oil and water, but we’re also exactly the same. He gave me his word he wouldn’t touch a hair on your head, and I know he won’t. He won’t break his word, becauseIwouldn’t break mine.”
It made sense. Barely, but it made sense. If Fix felt strongly enough that Zeth would honor his promise, then I was willing to put my trust in that, at least.
“We’ll wait for the rain to stop, and then we’ll go,” Fix told me.
Was he as sad as I was to leave the penthouse? I’d hardly spent any real time here, to be fair, and I’d hardly had a peaceful, restful experience at that, but…this was Fix’s home. I read his personality in each and every little touch, every book that sat dog-eared on the shelves, and every piece of art that hung on the walls. I’d even gotten a kick out of opening the top drawer in his chest of drawers and seeing the numerous pairs of neatly folded socks and boxer shorts that lay within.
Every item inside the penthouse had been picked out, chosen and put there by Fix. This was his world. Until recently, I would have fought tooth and nail to avoid finding myself here, trapped amongst his things, everything smelling of him and reminding me of him, but things were changing rapidly, faster than I would have thought possible. I wanted to see his world, to explore it and lose myself amongst it. More than that, however, I wanted to be apartof it. What a terrifying thought. In a weird, unexpected way, I was optimistic. If things worked out the way I hoped—with meliving—then perhaps we could come back here, to New York. Go out for dinner in the evenings. Do touristy things. Go to museums. Visit the Empire State Building. Gawk at all the lights in Time Square. Go and see The Lion King on Broadway at Christmas.
But, shit. Christmas felt very far away. A life where we might enjoy the luxury of such simple things felt very,veryfar away. “Where are we going now?” I sighed.
“Somewhere we can breathe for a little while. Where we can figure out how all of these pieces fit together. That is…if that’s what you want, Sera. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
I considered it for a moment. Could I really just go back to Seattle and pick up where I left off? Aside from the most salient question—was it evensafeto go back?—was my old life something I evenwantedanymore? When I’d fled Montmorenci, I’d talked myself into studying business because it had seemed like a smart, safe, reliable thing to do. I enjoyed the security of my job, and I enjoyed being my own boss, but was I really bouncing out of my bed, raring to get to my office every morning, challenged and excited by what I was doing? Fuck no.
I could sell everything. I could give it all up. But then what?
“Sera.” Fix said my name quietly, but the word contained a well of emotion within it. “The fact that you’re having to think about this so hard says enough. Just decide where you want to be, and I’ll make it happen.” He about-faced and walked away, his back drawn straight, his shoulders stiff. I stood there, mouth open, not quite believing that he was bailing on the conversation. Stupid, idiotic, overly dramatic man.
“Hey! Where the hell are you going? I wasn’t deciding if I wanted to be withyou. I was trying to figure out if there was anything left for me back home, that’s all.”
He stopped. He wanted to turn around, I could tell, but for some reason he didn’t. The tension in his shoulders grew.
“Why does that make you mad?” Exasperation colored my voice. “I thought you wanted me. I thought you wantedus.”
“God,” he whispered. “I’m not mad. I’mrelieved, Sera. So fucking relieved. I feel like my chest is about to burst open. It’s not fair of me to want this, though. I’m not proud of how fucking selfish I’m being. Better men would pretend. They’d make sure you were safe, and they would leave you the fuck alone. I’m the very worst kind of creature, the fucking worst, because I can’t do that. I can’t fucking let you go. I’m in love with you, Angel. And it will be the death of us both.”
Oh.
Well.
Shit.
I swallowed. Hard.
If emotions could have been identified by color, I’d have been swimming in a rainbow of confusion right now. Shock. Surprise. Panic. Excitement. Elation. But mostly, I was angry. “Don’t you dare tell me you love me for the first time with your back turned to me, Felix Marcosa. Don’t you fuckingdaredo that to me.”
