Chapter 20 #3
“Just do this for me, Levi, and I’ll owe you one.” The line goes dead before I can reply, and I put the phone away just as I hear soft footsteps padding toward the kitchen, and Lavender shows up.
My woman is ethereal in her long summer dress, though it seems she’s purposely chosen it to hide her curves from me.
I know and adore every inch of her, and as such, no matter what she wears, she’s desirable to me and the focus of all my attention.
Her long locks fall down her spine, the tips still slightly wet, so she must have blow-dried them in a hurry. Pride fills me at how she lifts her head, challenge along with determination flashing in her eyes.
My brave, brave cvetochek.
If only she knew I’m the only person she doesn’t need protection from, because her needs would always come above mine.
I do not wish to keep her in a cage. Rather, I wish to give her the freedom to finally be herself, and in this show off her beauty that belongs only to me.
“You look stunning.”
“Save the compliments for someone who cares,” she fires back, although it comes off weak when her stomach rumbles in hunger. “Where is your loyal butler?”
“He went to bed. It’s late for him.”
“So he’s okay with you kidnapping women?”
“I’ve never kidnapped a woman in my life. You came to me, remember?” Her lips purse. “Anyhow, kidnapping is your brother’s thing, not mine.”
“Would you stop that? He’s marrying her. You make it sound as if he’s a monster.”
“Well, he’s a murderer who stalked her to kidnap her and use her as a pawn against my father.
” She drops on the chair opposite mine with a loud sigh, grabbing the water glass and taking a long sip.
“I don’t like repeating the same shit over and over again, but if he’s not a monster… then I shouldn’t be one either, right?”
“Different situations. He wanted her despite who she was. You wanted to use me because of who I am.”
“No. I wanted you the minute my eyes landed on you. You became mine, and it just happens that I knew it would make Rush go ballistic. I think I deserve that justice, don’t you think?”
“Oh, do you, now?” She holds my gaze, picks up her fork and knife, and digs into her grilled chicken. She chews on her food, still studying me, and swallows, reaching for the water glass. “This is leading us nowhere.”
“I agree.”
“Let me go, and we can end our affair like reasonable adults.” She adds some marrow to her plate, polishing them in record time with the rest of her chicken, as if she’s trying to stuff as much food into her system as possible.
“I won’t tell anyone about this, and we can go back to our respective lives like this never happened.
I’ll stay away from the club, and your friends as well.
In fact, I’ll move back to the island.” She nods, giving me a fake grin that widens her mouth, yet her nose twitches in disgust. “Perfect solution.”
“Running away again instead of facing your problems is not acting like a reasonable adult, moy cvetochek. You sound like a coward. And I’ll be honest…I have very little respect for those.”
She slams her splayed palms on the island, rattling the plates on it, and gets up, inhaling deep breaths and closing her eyes before snapping them open again. A beat passes and she sits back on her chair. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Pushing for my emotions.”
“Because you’re allowed to have them. That’s part of being alive. Shocking, isn’t it?”
She watches me for several seconds while I sip my whiskey, then finally asks, “Are you a serial killer?”
“Yes.”
“Did you enjoy killing all those people?”
“Yes.”
“Do you regret it?”
“No.”
Her fingers curl on the island, and she huffs. If she wants more elaborate answers, she needs to ask better questions.
“Do you kill innocent people?”
Ah, we’re getting closer.
“No. Only those who deserve it.”
“And who deserves it, according to you?”
“Rapists, pedophiles, abusers, traffickers. Take your pick.”
She leans back, and a breath slips past her lips at this, her face gaining more color. “So you’re like a vigilante? You help those in need even if it goes against the law?”
“Would it be easier to accept me if I said I was?” I get up, grab the whiskey bottle, and pour more into my glass while opening the terrace door and allowing for the frigid air to get inside, bringing relief to the inferno burning within me, for I’ve never spoken about this with anyone else.
“There is nothing noble, romantic, or heroic about what I do. No matter the reason, I kill people. I enjoy torturing them. When they suffer…I consider it poetic justice. Punishment should always fit the crime, and sometimes the biggest punishment is letting someone live. Still. There is no difference between me and those who kill innocent people.” I look at her, and she swallows.
“We’re all monsters hungry for blood, and no justification changes that fact.
Murder is murder, no matter the reason.”
I welcome the burning sensations in my throat when I take a long sip and turn around, resting my back against the kitchen counter.
“That’s why I respect people who never allow their darkness and traumatic experiences to grow into sadistic vices demanding to be fed.
Once you taste it, you become addicted, and you can never go back.
Instead, they became strong and freed themselves from their past, moving on.
That’s what is truly heroic, and I guess the biggest fuck-you to their abuser.
To lead a life where they simply have no power anymore. ”
“I’m not justifying what you do. Although I’ll be honest, knowing that you kill all these hideous creatures helps to deal with all of it better.
I just don’t understand the reason behind it.
” Her brow furrows. “Your parents and family are perfect, Levi. What kind of darkness do you have that requires this kind of outlet?”
Ah, my confused cvetochek.
She never brought this up, and I never spoke about it myself because I assumed her brothers had told her.
Apparently, they kept her in the dark about my origins.
I step into the terrace, my bare feet slapping against the wet marble, and welcome the cold as it grounds me to the present despite my past playing in my head, painting vivid images that still hurt even though they shouldn’t.
We survivors do not have the privilege of crying over our past because we always have to outrun it. Otherwise, it will consume us.
“My mother was kidnapped when she was thirteen by a perverted man who kept her in his basement and raped her for eight years.” Her gasp echoes in the night, and I finish my drink in one gulp, hoping the whiskey could wash away the bitterness from my voice.
“So you see, I did lie to you about something important. My biological father is a rapist.” The rain continues as the trees shake in the wind, while countless lights brighten the darkness around us.
What a good allegory it is for what’s happening inside me now.
Lavender is the only bright light in my dark existence, and letting her go would be letting the chaos win.
She’s my one chance at salvation, and I won’t ever let her go, but for the first time in my life, I wonder…how fucking different is that from what Robert did to my mother?
I said murder is murder.
Wouldn’t it mean obsession is obsession regardless of the reason?
She might be trapped right now in a gilded cage, but it’s a cage from which she wishes to escape, and once she learns everything about my past?
She will be devastated.
If she asks me, truly asks me to let her, and after I understand that I killed any kinds of feelings she might have had for me…would I be able to let her go?
Lavender
I’m trying to process what Levi just said and get up when I notice that he froze, with his back facing me as he watches the rain.
If he steps any farther, he will get soaked from head to toe, but maybe he doesn’t care.
“Valencia…someone hurt Valencia?” My heart aches for the kind woman. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her.
I refuse for a second to think that Lachlan had anything to do with it.
Wait.
The math isn’t adding up because Valencia was around twenty-four or twenty-five when she had Aileen.
Then it hits me.
“You’re adopted.”
He looks like the spitting image of his father, with his blond hair and blue eyes, and I never for a second doubted the family connection. No one ever hinted that they weren’t biologically related.
Although the lack of childhood photos or their confusing answers about his age should have been a clue for me.
“Yes. They found me when I was seven or eight years old. No one truly knows my real age.”
“So your family hides the fact that you’re adopted?”
“It’s not a secret. We’re very private. Everyone in the family knows, the Kings included. I don’t broadcast it anywhere, but I don’t hide it either.”
Yes, rarely does anyone know anything about them as it is.
I swallow the anger that I apparently wasn’t considered family up until now, but then again no one owes me an explanation.
Resting my shoulder against the doorframe, I see him squeeze his glass tighter when I ask, “Where is your biological mom now?”
I’ve heard stuff about Lachlan and his friends over the years.
They belong to some kind of brotherhood where they helped people like me who ended up in hell due to sadistic people. I assume Levi’s mom is one of the survivors whom they rescued.
Since I didn’t feel sorry for these assholes, I didn’t think much about Lachlan’s method, but now I wonder if they are just killers and murderers who also found an outlet to channel their cravings for the greater good. They helped to deal with Jade’s madness back on the island as well.
Once again, I wouldn’t care.
He and these men have my gratitude forever.
Apparently, coming to peace with a murderer is easier than accepting the fact that Levi was stalking me, or rather, that I liked it because it makes me feel special.