Page 33 of Marked By Him

“I think it’s deeper than you need to go right now.” The authority in his voice made the atmosphere more intense.

“I think it’s exactly where I need to go right now.”

For a moment, I’d escaped reality.Or maybe I’d been reminded of it.I’d been immersed in a world much like the community he called home. Love was forbidden. Touch was a sin. And survival was the end game. Maybe it wasn’t fiction at all. Perhaps that was why I chose it.

Or maybe it chose me.

“What’s wrong withThe Scarlet Letter?” I grabbed the book and brought it to my lap as though it needed protection.

“Nothing if you enjoy reading about a man who was chosen by God to guide his flock and failed miserably.”

I knew nothing about God or what gave him the authority to appoint people.

If he was talking about Dimmesdale, I didn’t see failure. I saw torment. I saw regret. I saw a man who wanted a woman but didn’twantto want her.

I saw Roman.Every damaged, broken piece of him.

“How did he fail?”

His eyes narrowed. “Do you even understand what you’re reading?” The question was drenched in annoyance.

“I understand it perfectly. He made a mistake. They both did.” I glared at him. “Do you have a problem with forgiveness?”

Was that what this was about? Was that why he wouldn’t stay with me last night? He thought he was better than me. I was a tainted abomination in his flawless world. I’d dirtied up his immaculate little paradise.

My parents were my flock. I was outside the building. I should have seen the vampire coming. I was supposed to keep them safe.

I failed.

I jumped up, unable to sit still any longer. “Answer me. Do you think mistakes should be forgiven?”

“It depends.”

“On what?” I stood on one side of the couch, holding myself steady with a hand on the back cushion. My knees felt weak, my bones brittle, like they were fighting to hold me up.

He gritted his teeth, his voice darkening. “When the price of that mistake is someone’s life, then no.”

What did he just say?

He couldn’t possibly have known about my parents. He had to be talking about the book. Maybe Dimmesdale failed, and that failure cost someone their life. That life had to be the mother of his child or the child herself.

Or both.

“So, they died?”

He froze. His face paled. His head whipped around to face me. “What?”

“Hester and Pearl. You’re saying they die in the book.”Please, say that’s what you meant.

“No.”

I swallowed past the thickness in my throat. I clenched the book until my knuckles turned white. “Then, what the fuck are you talking about?”Tell me what you know and how you know it.

Did I talk in my sleep?

“Nothing. Finish the story. I’m done with this conversation.” He stood up.

“Not until you tell me what you meant.” Tears burned my eyes but I blinked them back. I was hanging off the ledge of a cliff, clinging to the roots of self-control.

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