Page 68 of Captive Souls

Shit. We had been traipsing through the forest, having this heavy conversation, and he’d beenshotan hour ago.

I scanned over his face. He was pale, but that was his norm. Somehow, despite sitting in the sun for hours on end watching me garden, that hadn’t added so much as a smidge of color to his face. Not a reliable marker for his overall health.

Though it was incredibly difficult, I swallowed my need to speak more, uncover more of him, share more with him.

“We need to shelve this discussion,” I said with a heavy breath.

“Shelve it?” His brow barely rose. It was little more than a twitch, really, but I noted it.

I nodded. “You were shot.”

“Not in the throat. I can still speak.” His hands were at my rib cage suddenly, a ghost over my torso for how lightly they skimmed me, as if he were afraid to touch me. “I can still take you.” He grasped my chin roughly, much rougher than his barely-there touch on my torso. “If I want to.”

There was a cruel undertone in his voice, in his gaze. He was implying that this was all teetering onhisdecision. Thathewas in control. But I knew that he was trying to convince himself more than anything.

I knew that there was no controlling this. Us. Whatever this was. If I was able to control it, I would’ve left with Daisy, risks be damned.

“We need to go back,” I protested. “You need to sleep. In the bed. Not on the couch.”

His eyes skimmed over my face. Slowly over every inch of it. “No way in fuck you’re sleeping on the couch.”

I swallowed my nerves. “I won’t be.”

It was time to be rid of this illusion that we were captor and captive.

We were both captives to each other.

Fourteen

Knox

Something had changed with Piper.

She’d let go of all pretenses she’d been trying to hold up, crossed the distance between us and made it clear of her feelings. Of her wants.

For me.

Even after I’d told her the truth. Exposed my ugly, rotting insides to revolt her.

But there was no revulsion. I should’ve expected that. Piper wasn’t capable of the cruelty it took to hear someone’s greatest sins and secrets and then shatter them while they’re most exposed.

That was my job.

If not that then surely me laying a hand on her sister, then laying my hands on her, especially after learning what a piece of shit her father was, should’ve swayed her. My fingers itched for my knife. I needed to release more blood to sate my need for punishment of that act.

I rarely regretted violence. Killing. The second you began regretting the souls you took was the second you were walking your own way to the grave. Regret was weakness. Too human.

But touching her sister—the five-foot-fucking-nothing ballerina Piper loved most in this world—was a sin I shouldn’t have committed. I wasn’t in control then. I’d seen red. I’d seen Piper lying lifeless on the floor.

And then I was across the room, choking the life out of her sister. To punish her for endangering what I held most precious.

It was dangerous. Deadly, even, that I didn’t have a hold on the beast inside me during those moments. It was another path to the grave. Piper was my greatest weakness. I was only just coming to terms with that.

My thoughts fractured as the door to the bathroom opened. Piper had been in there, cleaning up, getting ready for bed.

With me.

We hadn’t spoken on the walk back to the cabin. Hadn’t touched. But I still felt her all over my fucking insides. Her gentle tone like one an animal trainer might use to speak with a tiger that had gone feral.