Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark #3)(22)

I’ll make it happen.

I would find a way. I would fix her. I would fix myself.

Holding my hand out, I vowed, “I’ll find a way to free you. I’ll find a way to make it right.” Her fingers interlocked with mine, and I dragged her close. Breathing in her soft innocent scent, I murmured, “And when you’re finally happy, I’ll give you whatever you want.

“I promise.”





Intertwined, tangled, knotted forever, our souls will always be twisted together,

our demons, our monsters belong to the other,

Bow to me, I bow to thee, now we are free



“Well that was the shortest wedding in bloody history,” Franco muttered as I slid into the car and slammed the door. Sunshine gave way to shade, providing relief from the piercing glare. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Melting into the leather upholstery, I angled the vents to receive an artic blow from the air-conditioning. Being in the high-noon sun and dealing with the stress of being told I wasn’t marriageable material had taken its toll.

Q slid into the limo, slamming the door just as loud as I had. We hadn’t spoken a word on the way back; I didn’t trust myself not to burst into tears. I’d make a fool of myself by showing how insecure and truly afraid I was.

I don’t want you, Tess. How could I love you now you’ve become one of them? The voice from when I’d been drugged in Rio kept repeating in my mind. Q didn’t know that while I hurt and maimed under the command of my captors, he’d visited me often. My phantom conjuring with his whispers of me no longer being pure or worthy.

I knew it was irrational to believe he didn’t want me—not after his letter and everything he’d done—but I wasn’t strong enough to stop the voices from undermining everything I knew to be real and replacing them with lies.

Damn lies.

Insecure filthy lies.

I sneaked a glance at Q. He glared out the window, his forehead furrowed, eyes dark with planning. He’d withdrawn once again, focusing inward on whatever idea he’d latched onto. The last time he’d been this intense, he’d ordered me to beat him practically to death.

My eyes refused to stop drinking him in. His white t-shirt clung to his body made from pure stone. His longer hair was wind-swept and messy. His five o’ clock shadow hid some of the tension from his jaw but not enough.

He was so perfect. Too perfect. How could I ever compete, always feeling second best? My heart had leapt out of my throat and dived into the waves when he’d said he couldn’t marry me. Every dark thought and worthless aspiration I secretly nursed came true in that one, horrifying minute.

I’d always known it was only a matter of time before he finally realized he was marrying a girl with sin in her soul and a woman’s blood under her fingernails. And not just any woman. A trafficked woman—a bird he would’ve done anything to save.

He might suffer guilt for letting Leather Jacket take me. However, I suffered guilt for murder.

Franco lowered the barrier between us. “Couldn’t wait to get to the honeymoon, huh?” He threw a look over his shoulder, his emerald eyes catching mine.

My stomach twisted. What would he say if he knew Q had postponed it? Would he nod as if it made perfect sense? Would he tell Q he was worthy of a woman who was pure and not a killer like me?

I looked away, unable to stare at the man who’d been beside Q for years. I was jealous. Jealous of his time with Q when I’d had so little.

Franco cleared his throat, catching my attention again. He raised his eyebrow, kindness softening his fierce features.

I smiled weakly, then froze when he winked. He winked.

Q muttered, “No honeymoon. Not yet.”

Franco rearranged his face from kind and open to cool and professional. Ignoring me, he looked at Q. “Where to then?”

Take her back to Australia. I’m done. The snide cruel voice in my head answered on Q’s behalf, filling me with damp iciness. Oh, God. I had to get the negativity under control. I had to find a way to clear my mind.

Q glanced my way, his mind elsewhere. Finally, he answered, “Just drive for a bit. I’m still thinking. I want something impersonal.”

Impersonal? First he took me to an island that obviously meant a lot to him, then he wanted to take me somewhere that meant nothing. Trust in him, Tess. I had to keep my chin high and my heart believing.

“Sure thing.” Franco nodded, putting the glass back up.

Q looked out the window without a sideways glance.

I wanted to go to him. I wanted his arms around me, so I could focus on what was real and not what was in my head. My mouth opened, spilling an unauthorized question. “Why couldn’t we have stayed on Volière? Even if you don’t want to get married, surely it was a good place to spend time together?”

Q didn’t turn around. It took a moment for him to reply, as if sorting through the words to make sure he said nothing wrong. “I want the impersonality of somewhere we’ve never been. I want somewhere on neutral ground.” He kept staring out the window, brooding. His hands curled on his thighs, saturating the atmosphere in the car with energy and frustration.

I ignored the splinters in my heart. “For what?” He wants somewhere where no memories exist for either of us. It made sense—I supposed.

“I don’t know yet,” Q muttered.