Chapter 13
Xavier
Delilah pulls her hand from mine, and my stomach twists.
“This place is mostly weapons,” she says. “I’m assuming you know how to use them all?”
I nod.
“Did your father teach you?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Her green eyes flit over my face before dropping to my hands. Is she envisioning blood on them? Or me using them to kill someone? I’ve done all of that and more.
A deep line appears between her brows, her conflicted thoughts flashing in her gaze. I break eye contact by walking over to the shelves, trailing my fingers over the items, the familiarity of each one bringing back memories of how I’ve become the man I am today.
The one that wants her love more than anything else in this world.
I guess I’m like her in wanting something money can’t buy. How fucking ironic.
She comes over to stand by me, but not close enough for me to touch her. The small distance between us is more telling than words could ever be. I’m such a fucking idiot for showing her the darkest part of my life.
“Do these have a story or some type of significance?” she asks, her gaze skimming the pistols.
“Yes.”
“And these?” She traces the rim of the bowl, her head bowed, gaze locked on the bullet casings. “Are they from killing someone?”
“That wasn’t my doing. Anyone who crosses Edward Donovan better expect retribution. I was ten at the time, and my father made sure to instill that lesson in me. I didn’t have the stomach for it, but he made sure I did before we left.”
Delilah picks up the end of the rope. The fibers are rough and worn, but I can still remember the pain from them digging into my skin, the way my blood coated the material, staining it red.
She stares at the now-dark brown splotches, her gaze darting between me and the rope. “Do I want to know the story behind this?”
I shrug. “I’ve been tied up many times in order to master the art of escapism, although it’s not possible in every situation. It’s a good skill to have, even though it wasn’t easy to learn.”
“Xavier . . .” She sets down the item and turns to face me. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. You wanted to know me, and I’m showing you the parts no one else has ever seen.”
“Did your training happen here?”
I shake my head. “The fraternity has a reunion every five years—a quinquennial—for the members of the Order. My father would attend, but first he’d leave me down here in the tunnels.
I had until the event ended to find my way back to the dungeon or else I was severely punished.
I was six the first time. However, I didn’t discover this place until I was sixteen.
No one, except whoever built it, and us, knows about it. ”
She remains silent but hugs her middle and shivers. Is that from fear or revulsion?
“I know this doesn’t look like much,” I say, “but it started off as a horrific time in my childhood and eventually became a sanctuary.” I gesture to the items around us. “This is the only place in the world I’ve ever felt safe.”
“Xavier, I’m so sorry.”
The tenderness in her voice and the tears gathering in her eyes has me curling my hands into fists. “I didn’t bring you here for your pity,” I snap.
Delilah flinches but doesn’t retreat. Instead, she takes a step toward me and covers my fists with her hands, her touch gentle.
“It’s not pity, it’s compassion. There’s a difference,” she says, her voice firm yet soft with emotion. “Compassion is understanding someone’s pain and empathizing with them, experiencing their feelings like they’re their own. My heart aches for you, Xavier.”
“That’s not why I brought you here. I wanted you to understand, to see—” I break physical contact with her by yanking back my arms, unable to bear her touch. Not when she’s looking at me like I’m fucking weak.
A tear escapes and rolls down her cheek. “What do you want me to see?”
If you could love me despite everything I am and everything I’ve done.
“To see all of me and not run,” I say.
She doesn’t respond, her silence cutting me deeper than any knife ever could. I turn away from her, ready to get the hell out of here, my body so full of tension my muscles ache from the strain of me being still.
“Showing you this place wasn’t the actual gift I was planning on giving you,” I say. “But seeing how fucked up this turned out, I’m done.”
Before I can take a step, Delilah rushes to me and throws her arms around my torso, pressing her forehead against my spine. “Xavier, please stop trying to push me away.”
“You should run.” I blow out a breath of frustration. And defeat. “But I’m so fucking selfish I won’t let you.”
I wait for her disgust or anger to appear, but all I hear is a soft sigh and the brokenness of her voice as her whisper grazes my ears.
“I’m here, and I’m not running. ‘Until death do us part.’ Isn’t that what you said to me during the Bride Hunt?
Don’t break your vow to me. It’s the only thing in this world that makes me feel—”
She buries her face in my back, her tears dampening my T-shirt. I grit my teeth in frustration, unsure of how to comfort her while knowing I need to.
“Fuck.”
I turn around and face Delilah. Then I grab the back of her neck to keep her still and use the other to clasp her chin, lifting it so I can see the truth lurking in her eyes. It’s always there, which is why she tries to hide it from me.
“What do you feel?” I ask her, my voice demanding and rough. My need to know, to understand, eclipses everything. If this woman has any tender emotion for me, I’ll use it, deepen it by any means necessary.
“When I’m with you, I feel seen,” she says. Her lips tremble with each word, her confession raw and broken. “I feel valued in a way I never have before. Don’t you get it? I’m so fucking scared because I don’t know how I’d live without it. I can’t go back to how I was before I met you.”
It’s as if she’s reached inside my body and ripped out my heart, exposing it to the cold air. It struggles to beat, the cadence uneven and rapid. Is this what love is? To care for someone so deeply that they can empower you or destroy you with one sentence?
This is love. Or my fucked-up version of it.
The vulnerability rushing through me is reflected in her eyes, the green irises bright with fresh tears.
I stare down at her, and a pang streaks through my chest, piercing my soul that I didn’t know existed until the day I met my little raptor.
She tore through my defenses and uncovered the humanity in me, the very thing my father set out to eliminate.
This girl has no idea how much I need her, how my very existence is dependent on her being alive and well.
My fingers tremble against her skin as I fight the urge to crush her against me, to feel her body pressed against mine so tightly that there’s no space between us. This is why fucking her brings me peace. It’s the one time we are whole, unified like my possessive nature demands.
“Fuck!” I briefly close my eyes, as if that’ll stop me from lusting after her. “I want to kiss you so badly right now. Like I’ll fucking die if I don’t.”
She stares up at me, her lips parting in invitation. “Then do it.”
I groan and take a step back, letting my arms fall to my sides, hands fisted.
Doesn’t she understand that my obsession with her is the reason I’m rough when I fuck her, the reason I can’t get enough of her?
Doesn’t she recognize the fact that her body is still healing, and if I hurt her, the guilt from that would ruin me?
I’m trying hard to be the man she deserves, not the one I am.
“You don’t get it,” I say, my voice harsh, my restraint fading.
“If I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop myself from touching you everywhere.
The very thought of you suffering because of me and my lust for you is the only thing keeping me in check.
It’s the only thing preventing me from fucking the shit out of you like I want. ”