Demon from the Dark (Immortals After Dark #10)(94)

Now it was his turn to be shocked. “That is your source?”

She nodded. “Happiness. Revelry. They give me power.” She tilted her head at him, her green eyes appraising. “Malkom, I’m not going to apologize for that, or for anything I’ve done.”

When his scowl deepened, she said, “You’re four hundred years old. I’m not yet fifty. So don’t judge me for having fun when I was young and single. And don’t judge me for securing power that’s there for the taking.”

Don’t judge her? Who the hell was he to ever judge another? “Would you intend to continue doing that?”

“Only the week directly before Ash Wednesday.” At his frown, she explained, “It’s a citywide celebration. Wild revelry. And I’d hope you’d be right there with me.” She eased in closer to him. “If you’ve seen my memories, then it’s only fair that you tell me about yours.” She traced her fingers over the scars on his wrists.

When he recoiled, she drew her hand away. “You will never learn to trust me, will you?” Her expression grew saddened. “So it’s not that you assume this island is a better place to live—it’s because you’re afraid I’ll betray you once we get back? You had no intention of ever going to search, did you? No intention of ever helping us off this island?”

“No. I did not.”

She gasped. “Do you expect me to keep this torque on forever? To live helpless and vulnerable without any magic? I am a witch, Malkom!”

“Vulnerable? You have my protection—I pledged it. And no matter what, you would be in less danger here than in your world, amidst your wars.”

“Will you ever move past this anger?”

He shrugged.

“Damn it, demon, tell me. Will you ever trust me again?”

“I do not know.”

“Just answer me!” she cried. “Yes or no?”

Old fears died hard. “No.”

Her hand flitted to her forehead. “Then you’re going to continue to freeze me out? Distance yourself? You’re treating me like my parents did.” She gave a bitter laugh. “At least I’ve given you reason to.”

So that’s how she viewed his behavior? Likening it to her cold and haughty parents? His first impulse was to deny being anything like them. But hadn’t he been cold?

At least I’ve given you reason to . . . . He was treating her as they had. How could he, when he knew firsthand how heartsick their neglect had made her?

What was his neglect doing to her now?

She’d done nothing wrong with them, nor was she truly culpable for what she’d done to Malkom. She’d sought only to save an innocent child, the little girl he too wanted to call his own.

“We can’t be trapped here because you fear I’ll leave you once we return home,” she said. “Did you never think I could leave you here?”

His body tensed, and he bared his fangs. “Try it, witch. Always I will come for you. For you both. Nothing will stop me!”

She dropped her face into her hands. “What is wrong with me?” He barely heard her mutter, “Falling for someone who can’t love me back.”

“Love?” he spat. “You want that from me?” His heart seemed to stop.

Maybe he should tell her everything. If he dreaded her reaction, then he should just get this out of the way. She was going to forsake him eventually. And I will not care because she has already betrayed my trust.

She raised her head. In a deadened tone, she said, “Yes, Malkom, I want you to love me.”

“You know nothing about me! But you will.” He would reveal his sordid past, sparing no detail, so she could understand the male she’d wed. “After tonight, you will know everything.”





42




You will know everything . . . . His expression was cruel, as if he planned to hurt her with whatever he was about to reveal.

But he was already hurting her. He believed their relationship hinged on his past and how it affected him. Instead, it should be about their pasts, shaping their future together. And just as he had difficulty trusting her, she had difficulty being driven away, ignored, rejected . . . .

“Then tell me, Malkom. I want to know.”

Though his demeanor was aloof, his irises flickered black, belying his calm. She knew in an instant that he’d never told another what he was about to confide in her.

“My mother was a whore,” he began. “I have no idea who my father was.”

Carrow had already known that. She debated telling him, but decided to hear it from him. “Go on, please.”

“When I was a boy, she sold me to a vampire master who used me for blood.” He looked to the right of her as he added, “And for . . . sex.”

Ah, Hekate, was that why he’d killed his mother?

“She knew what that vampire would do to me. And still she made me his slave.” Lips drawing back from his fangs, Malkom said, “And the master raped his slaves repeatedly.”

“Malkom, I—”

“Let me finish,” he snapped.

“I’m sorry, go on.”

“But that was not enough for the vampire. He shared me with his sick friends. He liked to shame me, to make me shame myself in front of them. In time, I hated myself even more than I hated him.”