Oaths and Omissions (Monsters & Muses #3)(9)

“It’s okay to admit you were out for blood tonight, Ms. Primrose. I know I was.”

Jonas’s words from the balcony whisper down my back, goose bumps chasing their gentle caress. His violet gaze flashes across my mind, brilliant and striking as he looked right through me. Down to my core, eyeing the dirty soul I keep stuffed where no one can find it.

Not only did he find it, but he witnessed me at my most vulnerable and compromising. On my knees, covered in someone else’s blood.

And he didn’t even wince. Just stumbled upon us and accepted the situation as it was, albeit tauntingly.

Maybe that should unsettle me more, but for some reason it was sort of… comforting, being discovered like that. Like cracking yourself wide open and letting someone see the ugliest parts of you, and them not running away in fear or disgust.

Fascination seemed to spark in his gaze as he stalked around me, exactly like the predator everyone says he is.

I’m not sure what to do with the fact that it didn’t terrify me in the least.

After getting out of the shower, I change into a pair of silk pajamas and climb into my upholstered sleigh bed, yanking the white down comforter to my chin. My hand slips beneath one of the pillows, feeling for the box of charcoal pieces and sketchpad I keep hidden there.

Just as I go to pull them out, the door swings open, and my heart sputters as the man I loathe strolls right in.

Closing the door with the heel of his leather loafers, Preston drags a hand through his blond hair, brown eyes seeking mine immediately.

Sitting up, I hold the comforter to my chest and scoot back. “What the hell are you doing here?”

One of his hands comes to his chest, feigning offense. “Are you not happy to see me, bug?”

The nickname makes my stomach cramp. I grit my teeth and cross my arms, scowling as he continues to advance on me. When he reaches the edge of the bed, he braces one knee on the mattress and unbuttons his gray suit jacket.

My toes curl, and not in a good way.

“Don’t call me that,” I snap, “and don’t come any closer. I told you I didn’t want to see you.”

Preston sighs. He always sighs, like I’m an inconvenience to him even though he’s the one who invited himself in.

“Come on, bug, it’s been months. Guantanamo Bay deals in less excruciating torture.”

“I don’t care how long it’s been. That’s the entire point. We broke up, we aren’t supposed to see each other.”

My lungs constrict, squeezing until pain flares, making it difficult to breathe. Being this close to him dredges up everything I’m otherwise able to pretend I don’t remember.

Hands on my body, roving and stroking. Too many to keep track of, although I’m sure it’s more than I agreed to.

Damp breath scraping across the back of my neck and the insides of my thighs.

Pain. Excruciating, mind-bending pain. They swear I won’t feel anything, or that I won’t remember, but I want to know which one it is. I’d prefer the comfort of both, but even that feels like grasping at straws.

In the end, neither was true.

I felt everything, and the memories remain.

Preston’s hand finds the footboard of the bed, fingers curling around the cushioned edge as his features darken. His mouth mashes into a thin, firm line, and he glares at me.

“We aren’t broken up, Lenny. I didn’t agree to that.”

“Yeah, because it wasn’t up for discussion.” Slipping one leg off the bed, I let myself balance in limbo between fight or flight. Prepared for either but trying to wait for him to make the first move.

His eyebrows draw in. One finger taps against the bed.

“How many times do I have to apologize?”

The comforter comes with me when my other foot finds the carpeted floor. I clutch it to my chest, keeping the barrier between us. In the five years I’ve known him, Preston Covington has always maintained an air of unpredictability about him.

It’s not uncommon for him to be fine one second and utterly unhinged the next, nor is it uncommon for him to take the switch out on the people around him.

For three years, I withstood the constant changes silently. Daddy loves him, and for a time I thought I loved them both, which meant putting up with a lot of shit.

Until that night, when my endurance finally ran out. Favors turned to manipulation.

Evil.

Wrapping one arm around my waist, I press my fingers into the soft tissue of my abdomen, just below my belly button. Trying to soothe the pang of despair Preston’s existence causes.

“There isn’t an apology in this world big enough to cover what you…” My voice catches, pitching high and tight, and I clear my throat. “You can’t say sorry and erase what happened.”

“I’m not trying to erase it, baby.”

Fire surges into my throat, singeing my tongue and stealing the words from my lips.

He steps around the bed, eyes softening as he extends his arms. “I’m just sorry. I’m tired of being without you.”

My stomach flips, and my eyes burn. “Stop.”

His frown deepens. “No, Lenny. I won’t. You think I’m gonna stand here and watch while your father pairs you off with someone else? You’re supposed to be with me.”

“How do you know that’s what he’s trying to do?”