Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark #3)(42)

I had to come up with something else—something chain-smashing, lie-killing, life-fixingly perfect.

My teeth ground as Tess stiffened, shaking her head against my arms. She mumbled something incomprehensible. The nightmare was coming to an end.

The bed suddenly felt too soft, too reminiscent of the mattress I lay upon while Tess coaxed me closer to death with the aid of floggers and cat o’ nine tails.

Untangling myself from her, I swung my legs over the side and dragged hands through my hair. With heavy limbs and a heavier heart, I made my way to the other side of the bed.

She looked so innocent and delicate; a blonde wraith sent to tempt and destroy me. But beneath the fa?ade was a fighter—the same fighter who’d turned my world upside down, made me fall in love, and collared my demons.

I needed to get that fighter back.

Tess curled inward, looking like an ethereal being about to fade from this world. She was the sparrow I’d freed but never caught. The one bird who’d put me in a cage instead.

My eyes fell to my chest. I traced the red healing ‘T’ over my heart, before following the inked feathers and beady eyes of my favourite bird.

The symbol never failed to make me feel better about myself. I didn’t see a tattoo, I saw a promise; a message written on my skin, giving me faith to keep going—knowing I was better than my thoughts. Better than my f*cking fantasies. I’d proven it by saving women I could so easily have broken.

My hands fell to bare skin on my right side where no clouds or barbwire existed. It wasn’t fair to leave that part unwritten. That part belonged to Tess and my future.

Tess’s body jolted as she slammed onto her back; her mouth opened in a silent scream. Sucking in greedy breaths, she cried, “No. Not again. I won’t—”

Goddammit, I couldn’t listen to this night after night. I couldn’t torture myself lying beside her when I couldn’t save her.

I would f*cking save her, and in turn, I’d restore my self-worth.

Any second now she’d wake and hurl herself back to life. Any second now I would catch her and hold her while she sobbed from whatever filth she’d relived.

She would turn to me for help. And I would be there for her.

You almost raped her today. You’re a f*cking *.

The memory compounded my headache. How could I want to hurt someone who ruled me?

My stomach knotted, acknowledging the truth. Tess had so much power over me. More than anyone in my entire life.

She’s my f*cking queen.

The darkness gave way to light for a brief moment—the roles switched in my head. Abusive master to willing slave.

My eyes snapped wide. I snorted in the darkness. I’m the esclave.

Her messy hair snagged on the pillows, throwing herself onto her side. Her tiny hands fisted while her body turned in on itself.

Standing over her, I forced myself to pick up the splintered pieces of my heart from this afternoon. I was done suffering the gauntlet of right and wrong. No matter how much I wanted to accept her flawless gift of absolute ownership, I wanted more.

I deserved more.

I was f*cking besotted. She would never just be a slave. And I would never just be her master. Our connection went past flesh and blood. It was soul-deep and ever-lasting and I refused to f*ck it up with one mistake.

We’d reached a pinnacle in our relationship. The ugly truth was aired. It was time for decisions.

Fuck letting lies win. Fuck letting the past ruin our future.

Tess and I were stronger than words. And I refused to let them wedge us apart and destroy the only good thing in my life.

I would stop this—end all this decay before there was nothing left but rottenness and nothing to salvage.

I would start a new beginning. A clean slate.

I had to do something drastic.

My eyes widened. You already know what to do. Fuck, why hadn’t I thought of it sooner?

My headache kept pace with my heart as I glared at Tess. I’d wasted so much time.

Lefebvre and the shower.

It worked last time.

Could it work again?

Energy exploded through my limbs. Looking at Tess one more time, I stormed into the bathroom.

Turning on the light, the glare stung my eyes as I hunted for my clothes. Collecting my trousers off the floor, I jerked them on, followed by a black shirt I’d unpacked before.

My reflection showed a man sleep-dishevelled and wired to his f*cking eyeballs, but for once there was a glimmer of hope. Glorious f*cking hope.

This is wrong. Wrong on so many levels.

Ignoring the seeping worry in my veins, I didn’t give myself time to second guess. Fishing into my back pocket, I grabbed my cell-phone and punched in a number I’d known by heart since I was five years old.

It took a while to connect. The ringing sent spasms of pain through my head. I stabbed a finger at my reflection. “This has to f*cking work, so don’t screw it up.” The mirror stole my threat, echoing back the image of a lunatic. Doubt reared its unwanted head. My eyes looked almost soulless; my five o’ clock shadow unkempt. The tiny scars on my cheeks, brow, and nose glistened like tiny crescent moons.

Goddammit, pick up the f*cking phone.

The number rang and rang.

“Bonjour?” a sleepy female voice came down the line.

About time.

“Suzette. You’re going to do something for me.”