34. Lilith
LILITH
“Lilith.” My name on his lips. I love that. That, and how adorably ridiculous we look in our matching gray sweatpants and T-shirts as we sit on his plush sofa. “Little devil.”
Life is perfect.
Almost.
Because I’m gagged with two new gags that replaced the old ones after the shower.
Because his palms cover mine to stop me from removing the silk scarf and tie from my mouth.
Because instead of eating breakfast like we used to, Alaric fed me earlier with little sips of a protein shake through my gags.
“Are you okay?” He tips his head, concern bleeding from him. I see how much this is tearing him up too. “Can you hear me?”
God. He makes it impossible to stay frustrated when he’s trying so hard. Washing me, tending to me, caring about my feelings. They’re all signs that I matter to him.
If only he could stop worrying that I might disappear at any moment because of what I witnessed in his storage unit.
I get where he’s coming from. When I was eighteen, and my thoughts about him shifted from gratitude to something else, I worried day and night that he might be seeing someone. That by the time I came back to New York, it’d be too late.
So, yeah, his fear is understandable.
And still, it’s upsetting.
Honestly, I don’t think I’m doing that great.
My heart is as raw as it’s ever been.
I’m scared, too. Less for myself than for him. For what this is doing to him.
For what it might do to us.
Oh, God, I need Alaric to be okay so badly.
“Would it help if you took a nap? I can wait.” His thumbs draw long, smoothing circles over the insides of my wrists. “Lilith.”
I’m here, I want to tell him. But I need a second.
Taking a deep breath, I turn my head and look out at the city skyline.
A sliver of sunlight cuts through the cloudy sky. Farther away, I catch a glimpse of red, orange, and golden treetops.
Fall is beautiful in New York.
I remind myself that soon, very, very soon, Alaric and I will experience it together.
In the afternoons, we’ll walk through Central Park while leaves crunch beneath our feet.
We’ll sit by café windows with coffee warming our hands and watch the city rush past outside.
And at night, we’ll cuddle on the couch while horror movies play on the screen, the first ones I’ll ever watch thanks to Alaric.
While I’m lost in thought, Alaric has shifted his hold on me so that both my hands are in one of his much larger ones.
“I’m sorry.” With a finger under my chin, he turns my face back to his. Those eyes, those deep-set blues, burrow into my soul. “For sedating you. For holding you captive.” His gaze flickers to my mouth. “For these goddamn gags.”
It’s torture to see him agonizing over this. Knowing he considers himself to be an undeserving monster is like being stabbed by a million knives.
The cutting ache doesn’t center in my chest, or anywhere in particular in my body. It spreads outward, clogging my throat, making my stomach sink.
A kidnapper doesn’t deserve mercy, love, or compassion.
Except Alaric isn’t just any kidnapper. He’s mine.
And he needs me to comfort him.
Since talking is out of the question, I twist one of my hands, stroke the inside of his palm with my thumb, and nod once.
It’s fine.
“It isn’t fine.” Heat blooms in my chest because, like always, he reads my mind.
Most of my thoughts anyway. The ones that matter the most are invisible to him. Either that, or he refuses to believe them.
Will it stay that way?
It can’t. He’s my angel. Our story doesn’t end with me bound for life and him as my agonized captor.
“But it doesn’t change the fact that I need to tell you everything.” He tips my chin up a little higher. Determination hardens his gaze. “I can’t take the chance of you running off before you hear me out.”
I don’t nod or try to talk. I don’t disagree or bargain.
I simply sit there, a silent, I’m listening.
“You went through my notebook. You saw that I do more than keep people captive.” His tone stays calm, the pad of his thumb steady as he wipes the spit from my chin. “You must’ve realized I kill them too.”
His eyes are steady on mine, studying me.
No, it’s more than that.
It dawns on me that he’s treating me like I’m his patient. Like we’re in a clinic, and he’s a doctor.
Like one of his ties isn’t stuffed in my mouth.
It’s not a good sign.
Not a bad one either, since this isn’t how he is with the people he’s kidnapped.
I’m different.
I won’t end up like them.
I. Won’t.
“Lilith?”
One blink is my answer. Yes.
“Good. Then I don’t need to go into detail about the storage unit either.” His palm slides to my cheek, his grip turning possessive. “Or the state Fraser was in.”
I want to hear him out, but there are more important things to tackle before I do. Like freeing my mouth.
“Mmm.” I cast my gaze to his palm, a pathetic attempt to communicate that if he only moved his fingers an inch or two, he could pull the gag off. He could let me explain. “Mmm.”
He gives me one decisive shake of his head. I’m only mildly comforted by the fact that he isn’t refusing me out of cruelty. He apologizes right away by caressing my cheek, as if he’s trying to soften the blow.
Then, slowly but surely, the repetitive movement of his fingertip disarms me, practically lulling me into a trance.
It takes me too long to realize why he’s doing it.
Alaric doesn’t want me to be too present for this. Too aware.
It’s clear he’s afraid that, even silenced, I’ll still tell him—if only with my eyes—that he’s no better than my mom.
To have him even consider it is worse than any punch or kick she ever hurled at me.
He isn’t like her. Not even a little. Not at all.
He can’t keep thinking like that. Somehow, someway, I’m determined to get through to him. For that to happen, I have to talk.
My gaze is locked on his as I keep twisting one of my hands in his hold. He’s quiet, watching me back. My pulse roars between my ears.
I’m terrified. I’m desperate.
I’m putting an end to his misery right fucking now.
When my hand slips an inch out of his grip, and he doesn’t try to stop me, air filters into my lungs.
Emboldened, I test the waters further, resting my palm over his.
Our eyes remain locked when I send him the message I feel deep within my soul.
I’m okay with whatever you’ve been doing.
His eyebrows furrow at that, his lips pinching.
That’s a crack.
One I’m going to exploit by squeezing his hand. Maybe this reassurance will get through to him. Maybe he’ll let me explain myself.
Hope blooms in my chest when Alaric leans in.
“The gags stay,” he says, his forehead pressed to mine. “Please know that I hate it. I’m sorry.”
Tears well in my eyes as I nod. I hoped so fucking badly that he’d see reason on his own.
One kiss on my forehead, one hot, lingering breath on my skin, and he returns to his place.
“It started years ago.” Nothing about his voice betrays the storm raging inside him. “My past, then my work in trauma, pushed me into action. I couldn’t sit back and watch domestic violence patients get sent back to the people who’d brutalized them. The ones law enforcement didn’t put behind bars.”
His eyebrows lower. I don’t understand this look he’s leveling me with. It’s dark, not sad. Shuttered too, like he’s trying to hide something from me.
“Naturally, I couldn’t get to some, like your mother, who disappeared,” Alaric eventually continues, his strange expression dissolving. “That fucking bitch.”
His statement is a ray of light shining through the darkest clouds.
Whatever’s going on inside his head, Alaric has his priorities straight. The thing he cares about the most is my safety.
I’ll be fine.
His thumb smooths reverent paths over my cheekbone when he continues.
“That’s why I bought this apartment. It was within walking distance of the hospital, there aren’t any cameras in the back…
and there are relatively big storage units.
” It doesn’t escape me that he doesn’t give me a timeframe.
I’ll worry about that later. “From there, everything just fell into place. I hunted down people like your mom. Brought them to the soundproof room, and…”
A mirthless huff of a laugh escapes him. I tighten my grip on his hand as hard as I can. All so he’ll get it into his head that I support him. That I’d never think he’s a bad guy.
He simply shakes his head.
My stomach dips when I realize how high his walls are. That he can’t believe that I’d understand him, that I already do.
“I have to finish.” The corners of his lips curve down.
“The notes in my notebook document the trials I ran on these…people. Not because I get off on remembering them, but because they matter. They show me how I’m progressing as a physician and where I can improve my technique and timing.
For my real patients. The ones who matter.
But these trials are ugly. Gory. Nothing a normal doctor would ever dream of doing. ”
Frustration sends a growl up my throat.
Five minutes ago, I was sure I couldn’t love or admire Alaric more.
Now, once I finally have the whole picture…
Holy shit. I worship him.
Only a noble, decent man could come up with a plan like that.
And he worries I might reject him?
I could never. He’s a god.
He has to realize that. He has to hear it.
Newfound conviction shoots up my spine. Fires up my neurons.
My body kicks into gear, and I tear my hands from his.
Alaric goes still for half a second.
It’s enough. I wrench the gag off and spit the tie out of my mouth.
“You’re a hero, can’t you see that?” My voice is raw. My throat burns. I don’t care. I’ll give him my last breath if that’s what it takes to reach him. “You’re putting down monsters. You help your patients. You’re an angel. God-fucking-sent. What’s there to hate?”
“Lilith.” That’s the first and last warning I get before he tries to catch me. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”