Moth to a Flame

21. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Landon

Regan is beautiful when she’s awake.

When she’s leaning over any electronic device, creases forming on her smooth forehead as she considers how to fix it.

She’s stunning when she gets out of the shower and even more so when she checks her naked body out in the mirror and strokes the new tattoo above her navel.

She’s just as gorgeous when she sleeps.

We finished dinner about two hours ago, showered, fucked, and read the next book for her club, Stalk, Thwack and Everything In Between . It’s about, you guessed it, stalking and murdering. A group of college seniors torture random freshmen kids as a part of their tradition by either stalking or murdering them. One day, this girl finds out what they’ve been up to and the tables turn.

Interesting stuff. I’ve been taking notes from that girl, Keira. Methods I could use on my future victims for Regan’s eyeball collection.

Or should I say, was taking notes. Ten minutes into our reading time, I heard Regan gasp. She fell asleep and dropped the book on her face. So fucking adorable, and also thank fuck it was only two-hundred-and-fifty pages long, or it would’ve hurt her.

Then I’d have had to kill the book.

The thought, as strange as it is, doesn’t feel like it belongs to an unhinged man. As I run my fingers through her hair, I consider whether it should scare me or not. Me, seriously considering the murder of a book.

No more of that nonsense. Regan. My focus is on her and nothing else. Her warm, naked body draped over mine. Her soft breaths on my chest. Her hair that smells of my shampoo.

I won’t keep reading without her. Won’t wake her to my cock in her mouth. She looks so peaceful. So breathtaking and dark and rested.

There’s no sign of the nightmares. No quickening breaths, screams, or shuddering body.

I want her to have more of that. A good night’s sleep.

Until she wakes up, I have things to take care of.

Ever since that fucker Tripp, I’ve been working with our legal team and one of Beverly’s development team on solutions for making sure our users are safe.

Nothing I ever do will be foolproof. There will always be the one subscriber who’ll go unnoticed, who’ll have his record expunged for whatever reason. Who’ll claim he’s into X when in fact he has a hard-on for shoving bleach into women’s mouths. He might not even be as bold as Tripp to state it. He’ll just do it.

Doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying to protect the safe space I created.

This won’t be an easy fix. Until we have a protocol set in place and a new security feature up and running, I do random checks like I had the night I stumbled onto Regan’s profile.

Deep inside, I’m not too thrilled about it. The first couple of times I browsed through messages and profiles, I ordered Regan to sit next to me. She didn’t need this proof that I wouldn’t betray her, but I did. I had to show her I was not searching for something better. That I have the best thing right here with me.

She said she trusted me before I went through that first search. She hasn’t stopped.

But it’s time I let other people do it.

The women’s profiles are now vetted by two rising stars on one of Beverly’s teams. They both signed new NDAs. Both heard the underlying threat in my voice over our video conference telling them they’d be really fucking sorry if any of our users’ information leaked out.

They’ve been doing a great job since, targeting the predators who abuse this safe space.

An attack as brutal and as violent as the one that Regan went through should never, ever happen to anyone else—unless his name is Lester Burkes.

I’ll do everything in my power so that my platform rejects these monsters.

Without disturbing her, I climb out of bed, pull on my sweats, and head to the den. Take a seat in one of the armchairs where I search for any users who raise red flags.

Three hours have gone by and thank fuck, nothing.

Problem is, I’m still no closer to being tired. Don’t even yawn.

I have Lester on my mind. His parole hearing is weighing down on me more than I’d like to admit. Just the mention of his name in my head, and my pulse rages between my ears. My muscles flex, and my blood runs hot in my veins.

He caught her. He violated her. He took from her.

So much.

The urge to abuse him in every vile way known to man festers beneath my skin.

Murder. Murder. Murder.

I need him to be pardoned. I need this fucker out of prison. Have his heart in my fist and squeeze slowly until I bleed him dry.

“Fuck this.” I’m out of the chair, heading to the doors leading to the beach.

Sitting in my comfortable home while he’s not here clearly isn’t helping. Doing something I hate, that could be a short-term fix for me.

The repulsive texture of the sand, knowing is ruins my sweatpants, that could lift this heavy weight off my chest.

This time, unlike the others though, I don’t resent my obsession.

There’s nothing wrong with my feelings for Regan.

What’s wrong is I can’t do anything about it at the moment, and it’s killing me from the inside.

Maybe if I turned down the intensity a notch, I could breathe again. Be a better man for her.

It might. Then I’d go back to bed, shove myself all the way into Regan’s sweet pussy, balls fucking deep. Fall asleep like that.

Inside my woman. My one and only me.

Fuck, I love her.

Too goddamn much.

I have to find a way to unleash my anger without hurting her.

Out.

I don’t bother with closing the doors leading to the private beach. A shirt isn’t necessary, either. This has to be uncomfortable. I have to hate something, and this is all I have.

Mission accomplished. I’m on the shoreline, freezing my ass off. Water and sand mix together, sticking to the hem of my sweats, which, in turn, sticks to my ankles.

Repulsive.

Repulsive is good.

Except I don’t feel half as disgusted as I used to.

The love muscle in me flexes, the bastard. With every step I take into the ocean, every grain of sand clinging to my feet, I’m reminded of her.

The look in her eyes whenever I tell her I love her.

The tremors racking through her body when I trail my knuckles along her cheek.

Her sweet, kind voice. How she doesn’t just talk to me with infinite compassion. Everyone gets that side of Regan. Her sister, her parents, her customers. The delivery men and women who drop by supplies at the store.

Sand. Mud. Salty water.

I focus on that. Stay in place, digging my toes into the ground. Walk a foot further into the ocean.

I’m cold out here. The water won’t stop curling around my shins.

The urge to slaughter a man for her is stronger than anything, no matter what I do.

The mind games I play with my own damn self aren’t working.

I’m failing myself.

Worse still, I’m failing her.

Focus. Focus. You won’t do her any goodor if you’ll buy an armored vehicle and drive it through Brinestone’s gates. Lester won’t die if they lock you up. If they shoot you on sight.

A warm hand on my bare shoulder and my destructive thoughts come to a screeching halt.

“Landon.” Her fingers dig into my skin. Her voice is soft. Like she’s talking to a wild animal.

A wounded animal.

She’s not wrong. I slam my eyes shut against the emotions pummeling into me, against their brutal assault.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

What are you doing with me?

As if she’s ever had a say in that.

“My dad texted in our group chat. The phone went off. They’re all very excited and that woke me up.” More caution in her voice. She hopes her words will settle me, will bring me back to her. I want to give it to her. I should give it to her. “That’s how we are when he has a new idea. This one is very new. His first horror romance, if you can believe it.”

“Good. Good. Go back inside, Regan.” I love you too much. I need to own you. I need you shackled to my wrist and never leaving my side. I have to—I can’t breathe another second without decimating this thing that hurt you. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You shouldn’t be out here like this.” She’s becoming a pro at ignoring my snappish answers. I don’t know if I like it or hate it. No, damn it. I love that just as much as I love everything about her. “You don’t have a shirt on, and the water is cold. You’ll catch something if you stay out here like this.”

“So will you. Back. Inside.”

“I’ll tell you what.” Persistent little thing. A terribly sweet one. “I’ll do that, then return with sweaters for both of us. That way, we’ll stay out here together.”

Lap, lap, lap. The water is as incessant as Regan is.

Neither makes me suffer. Not at all.

And I need to suffer. For her. So I can be patient. So my bones don’t burn.

So I don’t do something that’ll land me in prison and away from Regan.

I have to wait. Have to force myself to do it.

To do fucking nothing until Lester gets out.

No, not nothing.

I’ll be here for her. I’ll be here with her.

“Please, don’t disappear into the waves while I’m gone.” She presses her lips to my shoulder blade. How she’s able to be so sweet is beyond me. After everything that she’s gone through. “I’ll be right back. Promise.”

Movement in the water. It splashes as she turns to walk away.

She’ll do no such thing.

“No sweaters.” I turn faster than she can take another step. My hand is a manacle on her wrist. The other one grips her hip, pulling her to me. “I need to…I have to love less. Not you. This world.”

Darkness looks so good on her. The shadows of the night are a silk fabric caressing her skin. The silver moonbeams highlight just enough of her features, her hair, the twinkle in her eyes. Just enough to make sense of the parts the darkness hides.

Sending her back inside is no longer an option.

I have to have her. This slice of happiness. This gift I’m not worthy of, but I’m accepting anyway.

Where it’s dark. Where no one can see us since the lights are off in the houses to our left and right.

I’ll strip Regan of her soft T-shirt and lounge pants. And only I will have a view of her beautiful body.

No. Fucking no. She deserves better.

“You’re going to be a good girl, Regan.” Her pulse rages beneath my thumb as she stands there, brave. Tall. “Go inside, tuck yourself in. Wait for me there. I’ll get back to you when it’s safe. When I’m safe.”

Her hand floats—yes, floats—in the space between us. She lets it rest on my stubbled cheek.

“What did they do to you?”

My chest rises and falls with every harsh breath.

There’s no reason for her to hear about what being my parents’ child was actually like.

What for? She’s been through enough. She’ll have to go through more when her monster gets out of prison, whether it’s next week or in ten or twenty years.

Anything I tell her will only be another burden. I will not burden her.

“We’ve been through this,” I deadpan. “I told you everything.”

“You never told me how living with them made you feel. What really hurt you.”

I grip her tighter.

And despite myself, I tell her.

“Obsessive, jealous woman married the man who loved her more than anything. They had a son. She celebrated when she ended up miscarrying her second pregnancy. Ate cake and drank champagne and laughed. She hated the girl in her womb. She was happy when her competition was gone. Fast forward a few years later, the woman loses her goddamn mind and kills the man she loved, then herself. The end.”

Regan stares me dead in the eye, listening to my story.

As if she can take it. As if she can take me.

Maybe she can.

“What were their names? Your family’s.”

“Why do you care?” As soon as I snap, I wish I could swallow the words back. I curse under my breath. “They’re not important. They were and then they weren’t.”

Her lips purse as she considers me a second time. “We’re equals, aren’t we?”

A punch to the gut. That’s what her question does to me.

I do control Regan. I do own her. But she’s not less than in any way.

“Have I given you a reason to think otherwise?”

“You haven’t.” Wickedness dances in her eyes. “Which is why I’m asking to have a free use card as well. No, demanding. I’m demanding it.”

My dick stands at attention. My head cocks to the side at the turn our conversation has taken. “You’re demanding to fuck me whenever and however you like?”

“Maybe someday in the future.” Her eyelashes flutter. “Tonight, this”—she pokes me in the chest—“is the free use I’m demanding. I’m cashing in. Tell me about yourself.”

Regan is sweet. Too sweet and it’s impossible for me to take another second of it. It’s even harder when the memories flash before my eyes.

“It’s only fair,” she says.

It is.

It is.

The more I repeat it in my head, the more this…peaceful sensation falls over me.

I can tell Regan. I can tell her, and it’ll be okay.

“Axton and Abigail. I wasn’t allowed to name my sister.” Our bodies are pressed together, her hands mashed between us. My voice turns into a harsh whisper. “I named her anyway. Lanny. So she’ll always be a part of me.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

The ocean water isn’t as maddening with Regan in my arms. I won’t push her away anymore. I’m keeping her.

“Mom wasn’t just happy about the miscarriage. She was over the moon when she started bleeding and then in the hospital. Dad was devastated. I didn’t see him for days. My guess is, he drank and cried by himself, after Mom went to bed, so she wouldn’t think he loved the unborn child more than he loved her. Had to be it.”

Regan shudders. I’m not sure if it’s the chill of the night or my story.

As if the answer matters.

What matters is she’s shivering. I fold her into my arms, pressing my forehead to hers.

“Next time anyone mentioned my sister around our home, it was me. Mom slapped me across the face that year for telling her my little sister had a name. After that, there was no more talk about her.”

“Did she do that a lot?” Anger. I see it swelling in her as if we were standing under clear blue skies. She’s angry on my behalf. “Hit you?”

“No. None of them did.”

The longer we’re here, talking, the easier it is for me to get the words out. Talking to Regan about it makes my story smaller. Less significant. Less painful. My past isn’t a monstrous beast anymore.

“Mom had been busy with Dad. Showing up unannounced at the accounting firm where he worked. Screaming at him for looking too hard at this or that actress on television. Getting down on her knees and begging him to promise he’d never, ever leave her. It was a shitshow. A trainwreck. I couldn’t wait to leave for college. I swore to myself I’d never ever be that person. I’d never love anything, just so I’d turn into…that.”

Those damn soulful brown eyes stare at me. She internalizes my stories. Turns them over inside her head.

I had no idea I appreciated the silence this much until I met her.

“I understand you so much better now.” She nudges one hand out from between us to cup my cheek. I wind a fist of her hair for the way she makes me feel. Normal. Accepted. “For you, the fear of killing me isn’t the worst of it. It’s what happened from the moment they met until they died that you can’t stand.”

“I’m not good for you.” I tug on her hair. “Yet I’ll never let go.”

“I’ll tell you what’s good for me.” The fire in her eyes shines brighter in the night. The desire to swallow her whole is incessant. “A fist in my hair. A kiss on every part of my body. A black gaze on me throughout my days and nights. Hands to ink my body. Someone to read with. To laugh with. To fuck me. An animal that only I get to calm down. Late-night talks, I need those too. Very much. All the time.”

When she drives her fingers through my hair and pulls me toward her, I go. I press my forehead to hers. She closes her eyes, pinching them shut. So do I.

“Someone who understands and sees me. Someone who trusts me with his brokenness and knows I will love it fiercely.” Her chest expands against mine. I’ve never felt this connected to a person in my life. “A man who’s as obsessed with me as I am with him. Who laughs when he’s being called out for being a jealous psycho.”

Her laugh is watery. I’ll kiss all her tears away as soon as she finishes. I have to have her words. I’ll die without them.

“Being loved , Landon, that’s what’s good for me. You don’t get to take that away. You don’t get to hide. It’s mine. You. Are. Mine.”

“And you are mine, little lamb.” I breathe in her air, holding her as tight as I can without breaking her. “You are right when my entire world is so wrong. You heal me. You nurture me. I have and I will kill for you. I will love you until the end of time, and I won’t stop. I won’t ever stop.”

“Please, don’t.”

I kiss her until we’re out of breath. Until the sun comes up.

For a few hours, there’s nothing more important than my lips on hers.

Rapists, dead parents, family. Nothing exists.

Just her and me.