Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark #3)(95)

The waiter appeared with more drinks; I waved him away once he’d delivered. I’d eyed him thoroughly when we first arrived—wondering, suspecting. But he seemed harmless enough.

Taking a deep breath, I glared at Tess, tasting all the questions I had for her—wondering which one to start with. I’d wanted so many times to get inside her head—now that opportunity was all mine.

What’s your secret fantasy?

If you could change a part of me—what would it be?

How many men have kissed you?

I knew how many sexual partners she’d had. Goddammit, I did not want to go down that line of questioning. Already, anger scalded my veins at the memory of walking in on that rutting motherf*cking bastard Lefebvre raping her.

My hands curled. Shooting him had been too kind—no sense of justice for what he’d done. He’d gone after Tess because of my f*cking father and his empire of trading women. My own flesh and blood used them worse than possessions—carelessly killing them when they were no longer tradable, f*ckable. Goddammit, don’t think about him either.

Family.

I knew nothing about Tess’s family. That might be a good line of questioning.

Why have you never mentioned your parents?

The pain in my heart made me physically wince.

Nope, couldn’t go that way either. The moment I pried in that area of her life, she’d turn it around and ask me. Family was strictly out of bounds.

Christ, what else was there?

I’m exhausted, and we haven’t even begun.

Would Tess really want to know I lost my virginity to a slave who I’d saved before sending her home to her father? Did she really want to know the sick and awful thoughts plaguing me on a daily basis?

Shit, I should stop this right now, before any harm could be done. It was ridiculous. Fucking ridiculous.

Tess took a large gulp of her drink.

I paused. The panic in my system faded a little; I narrowed my eyes. Tess’s cheeks were flushed, her body not as effortlessly poised.

A smile spread over my lips. I had to stay sober, but this entire game would play right into my hands if I got her drunk. If she lost all inhibitions any question was answerable, and anything I wanted to do to her when we got back to the hotel would be welcome. If she wasn’t sober my anxiety of being in public and the horrible feeling of dread would go unnoticed.

If I got her drunk—I was free.

I grabbed my tumbler of whiskey, saluting her. “Cheers. Here’s to Truth or Dare.”

She smiled, clinked glasses, then took a large sip. False courage already. I wanted to laugh. This would work. Then I frowned—why was she so nervous? What the hell was she so afraid to tell me?

A plate smashed in the kitchen, ratcheting my heartbeat as every muscle prepared to wrench my knife free and kill. Kill them before they could kill me.

Because that’s what they wanted. That’s what I refused to think about and never wanted Tess to guess.

Silence stretched between us; I threw a large mouthful of the fiery liquid down my throat. Curling my hand around my glass, I muttered, “I’ll go first.”

Tess looked up, her eyes popping wide. “Oh…okay.” Her fingers played with the stem of the martini glass, trying to hide her apprehension. She couldn’t hide it—not from me.

“I know you have an older brother. Why don’t you ever mention him?”

Go hard or f*cking go home. I wanted to know about her family—hopefully she’d be too drunk to remember to repay the question to me.

She gasped, leaning forward. “How do you know I have a brother? I never mentioned him.”

Silly girl. I’d sent her back to Australia. But I never stopped watching. How could I when I knew I’d fallen head over f*cking heels that night she gave me everything? I’d taken her pain virginity—I’d welcomed her into my clutches, then released her—knowing I’d ruined her but unable to keep her against her will any longer.

I raised my eyebrow. “I’ve put a tracker in your wedding ring—did you honestly think I wouldn’t check on you from time to time in Melbourne?” Time to time—meaning every f*cking minute. I’d been an obsessed creep.

“You spied on me?” she whispered.

I shrugged. “Spied…kept you safe. Same difference.”

She laughed. “Hardly. But okay—if that’s your first question. I’ll answer it.” Taking a deep breath, she said, “Yes, I have an older brother. His name is Samuel, and he’s twenty years older than me. He wanted a younger sister about as much as my parents wanted another child.”

My heart pummelled against my chest at the thought of Tess growing up in a household with no love, company, or connection. Assholes. Maybe they deserved payback. My mind ran wild with ways to make them suffer.

Her family would never see a cent from me. Ever.

“Why get pregnant then? If they only made your life a misery—what was the point?”

My brutal question didn’t faze Tess. Her fingers turned white around her glass, but she answered bravely. “I was a mistake. My father had a vasectomy but it failed. They never forgot to tell me that every year.” She dropped her hand, playing with the tablecloth. “When I turned twelve, they pretty much stopped pretending to raise me. I was self-sufficient in their eyes. They embraced retirement. It worked well for them—having a younger daughter craving attention, I did almost everything they asked me to do. They had a live-in maid, and a terrible cook, for free.”