Page 67 of Captive Souls
But in that moment, when it was personal, I understood the need for retribution. Vengeance. Death.
Knox tilted his head. “Good?”
I nodded. “I hate that he stole even more of your innocence by you taking a life.” I was genuinely mourning for the boy who was forced on that path. “But I am glad that he doesn’t walk this earth. I’m glad you took him off this planet.”
Knox didn’t speak for a long time, as if mulling over my words, deciding if he was going to share more.
I was hungry for more, even if the horrid truth of his past stung my insides like a nest of hornets.
“I started by killing those who deserved it,” he finally spoke. “You may agree with those early deaths too. They were truly sick. It was black and white. Clean.”
When he stepped forward, I quivered. He was Knox, but he was something else inside of his skin too. The killer he’d turned himself into.
“But things never stay in black and white for long,” he continued, prowling closer.
I kept shaking at his advance, but I didn’t retreat. This was a test, I knew that. He wanted to scare me, he wanted me to run. I wouldn’t give him that. I’d show him I was strong enough to handle this. Handle him.
“But then it became clear that Ineededto kill.” The ground crunched as he stopped in front of me, completely in my face. He consumed me, his harsh expression, the danger radiating off him. My body thrummed with fear and need and sadness.
“I need it to breathe, Piper,” he murmured. “There’s nothing romantic or redemptive about it. I’m not some fucked-up kind of Robin Hood killing predators. You can’t make this pretty in your mind. You can’t makemepretty in your mind. What he took from me is what I am. Ruined. Disfigured.”
The weight of his words settled inside of me like lead. He truly believed that he was wrong, damaged. The hatred he felt for himself was palpable.
“You’re not ruined or disfigured to me,” I whispered, my words broken, tears wanting to escape my eyes.
His brow hardened as I saw his determination to disgust me. To terrify me.
“You still think you want me after this?” he spat. “Want my blood-stained hands on your body? Want me to fuck you with tastes formed by years of abuse?”
I nodded slowly. His words were brutal and ugly, unveiling the attraction we’d been dancing around, but doing it so he tainted it. Made it wrong. And he did that on purpose. Because, I suspected, he’d never had an intimate relationship that felt right in any kind of way. I mourned that for him. I also felt kindred. Although I had been spared the horror of sexual abuse, all of my intimate liaisons were tarnished by fear and feigned attraction to men who wouldn’t hurt me.
“I don’t fuck like any man you’ve been with, Piper.” His rasped whisper was more powerful than any roar could’ve been. “I haven’t … enjoyed any sexual touch with a woman. Or a man.”
There was a slight difference to the cadence of his last sentence. Almost a tremor in it.
He was still trying to unsettle me. Trying to put me off as if him exploring his sexual identity and agency were something to be ashamed of.
“You haven’t found the right person, then.” I was breathing heavily.
His eyes flickered over me, purposefully brutal, assessing, unimpressed.
“You think that’s you? Because you have a tragic backstory? You’re chipped in places, Piper, but you’re not broken. Not shattered. And those chips only make you more stunning. I lay a hand on you and it would all evaporate.”
I stepped forward, purposefully pressing our bodies flush together. Knox went statue still.
Forcing my hand not to shake, I reached out to cup his jaw. My palms exploded with electricity when I made contact. The skin was smooth, warm, unlike the cold façade he wore.
“You’re not the one who gets to decide how broken I am,” I cupped his cheek. “And you’re also not going to stand here in front of me, trying to scare me with your trauma, with your sexual history or your biased view of your soul.”
“I’m not trying to scare you with my trauma, Piper.” Knox took hold of my wrist. Although he didn’t yank my hand away, he squeezed my bone. I loved the pressure, the pain on my flesh. I’d thought I didn’t want a possessive man, but it turned out I wanted this man to possess all of me.
“I’m trying to scare you with how I dealt with it,” he bit out. “Plenty of people who get abused process it in healthy ways,become normal members of society. Or if you’re my brother, they become famous by defying death for a living.”
I filed away that tidbit about his brother. The tone in which he said it showed scorn on the surface, but I detected other things too. Worry. Reverence. Pride. Love. He was capable of all of the human emotions he thought himself immune to.
“As for my soul.” His grip tightened. “You’re deluding yourself if you think I have one of those worthy of you.”
“I’m aware of the road you’ve walked down,” I replied in a low voice, careful with my words, tasting them before putting them into the air. “Since it brought you to me by way of kidnapping preceding a forced marriage. I’m under no illusions as to who you are and what you’ve done.” I stroked my finger down his neck then rested it lightly against the bullet wound I’d all but forgotten about.