Page 167 of Sins of a King
He reached out and grasped my arms, almost like he wanted to shake me, but held me steady instead. “Answer me.”
“You forgave me for Dolinsky, but you wouldn’t forgive me for Sasha, is that it? What kind of code is that?”
Flynn’s jaw clenched. “Love. We’re talking about love.”
“Are we?” My voice had come out breathless, and I wasn’t even aware that my hands had reached up to grip his suit lapels.
“Barrett,” he whispered, his breath teasing my face. “I don’t know what I’d do if you told me you were in love with another man.”
I watched him carefully; tension filled every line of his face. “I don’t sleep at night, Flynn. I have nightmares.”
His brow furrowed. “Nightmares? About what?”
“About the person I’m becoming. I’m scared.”
Flynn all but yanked me into his arms, pressing me against his hard body. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We don’t talk about my time with Dolinsky. And I know it’s because of what’s on that video. It’s still between us, Flynn. Don’t deny it.”
“I won’t. But I thought by you talking about it, you’d be reliving it. I didn’t want you to have to relive it.”
“Me? Or you?” I pressed. He didn’t answer and I told him, “Dolinsky wasn’t the first man I killed. There was another.” I finally told him about Vlad, about what I’d done.
“Fuck,” Flynn rasped. “You’ve been holding all this in?”
I shrugged.
“Sasha,” Flynn realized. “You can talk to Sasha.”
“Because he was there. He knows. He’s the one that stopped Vlad from killing me. He’s the one who…”
“What? Tell me, Barrett. No more secrets.”
“He filmed the video,” I confessed.
I felt the tension in Flynn’s body, hating it, hating that I’d put it there. But I couldn’t keep it all to myself anymore. It was too much.
I cried against him, pouring out my fear and anguish and all that I’d kept bottled up inside of me. He stroked my hair and held me, even went as far as to kiss my tear-stained cheeks. I tugged at his clothes, but he stopped me.
“Barrett. No.”
“What?”
“We have to talk,” he insisted. “If not, you’ll just lose yourself in me, and I’ll let you.”
“I don’t want to talk,” I muttered.
“You have no problem talking to Sasha,” he pointed out. His voice was no longer cold, just hurt.
My hands dropped, and I took a step away from him. My stomach rumbled, breaking some of the tension. “I’ll talk,” I said, “but can we eat first?”
Flynn smiled. “Yes.”
An hour later, I was pushing away an empty plate and drinking mineral water, feeling content and full. Flynn sat across from me, holding my hand and stroking my knuckles. “Never be afraid to tell me things.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said.
“You only hurt me by keeping things from me. Hurt us.”
