“Are you a genius?”
He dumped the book on the bed and crossed his arms. “There are a lot of theories on what makes a genius, but technically my IQ is one hundred and fifty-eight and a genius is anything over one hundred and sixty, so you could say… I’m close.”
I nodded, thrilled that he was talking to me after three days of silence. “Fascinating. Tell me the meaning of life, oh brainy one.”
His mouth twitched despite himself. “There is no meaning of life.”
I thought back to the mantra he whispered every night in his office. Tilting my head, I murmured, “I think you have a meaning—a purpose. You’re driven by it and won’t rest until it’s fulfilled.”
He took a step backward, his face going white.
I stood upright, not wanting him to leave when I was close to bulldozing down one of his walls. Something soft and cool prodded against my toes.
I looked down.
My eyes fell on the well-handled Libra eraser.
“Homework tonight?”
I let him in, locking the door behind him. “My mom and dad are out. We have the place to ourselves.” I whispered, “I need you.”
The foyer of the home I shared with my parents went instantly thick with sexual tension.
His green eyes flared; he swallowed. “I—you know how much I want you, but… you’re too young.”
“I’m fourteen next week. And I’ve known you since I was born.” I went to hug him, but he moved quickly out of reach. “Please, I love you. I want you to be my first.”
He sighed heavily. “I will be your first. But wait a little longer. I don’t want to hurt you.” His hand disappeared into his pocket, pulling out the brand-new Libra eraser I’d given him last week. He’d told me to get a better eraser. And I’d wanted to remind him of all the good qualities he possessed being a Libran.
Holding it up, he muttered, “You gave me this. It’s all I’m accepting from you until I’m sure I’ll never lose you.”
“You will never lose me.”
Sadness beyond his seventeen years flickered in his gaze. “I lose you every time I go home without you. The day I make love to you is the day my life is over.”
My heart squeezed. “Over?”
“It’ll be over because I’ll give you my soul when you give me your body, and I’ll never be able to live without it again.”
I crumbled to a puddle, picking up the eraser and holding it to my heart.
“I—I gave you this.” I held it up, tears streaming through my eyes. “I gave you this the night I begged you to take my virginity.”
Kill stumbled, his legs buckled, and for a second I thought he’d pass out. Then rage—undiluted, terrible rage—filled his body. “Shut up!” he roared. “Shut up with your mind tricks and fucking illusions!”
“It’s not a trick! You have to believe me!”
He lurched forward, snatching the eraser from my fingers. His face was livid as he raised his fist as if to strike. His jaw-length hair fell forward in an unruly mess.
“Don’t!” I curled into a little ball, protecting my head with my arms. “I remember you. I remember stolen kisses on a rooftop beneath the moon. I remember you helping me with my homework. I remember the days spent swimming naked at the private beach we found. I remember the love I felt for you—the love that never—”
He kicked me.
The pain in my ribs ripped through my confession, shutting me up. Heat spread through my side, licking with fire, singeing my already scarred skin.
I sucked in a ragged gasp, holding my side. My eyes turned glassy with sadness and regret.
Kill squatted over me, seething with ferocity. “I’m done with you playing on my pain. I’m done being manipulated. I told you I’d been betrayed in my past, and I won’t let some whore twist my memories and make me believe a heinous lie. You’re ripping my fucking heart out and I won’t let you do it anymore!”
“It isn’t a lie. Tell me how I know things! Tell me how I could have those memories if it wasn’t the truth!”
Grabbing my hair, he jerked my eyes to look into his. “You’re a liar and a con artist. They told me where they stole you from. I know who you are, and all this bullshit about loving me—it makes me want to kill you for having the nerve to hurt me like that.”
Shoving me away, he threw the eraser on the floor and stormed toward the door. “I’m done. I never want to see you again. Spread your lies somewhere else, sweetheart. We’re through.”
He slammed the door.
The scrape of a key sounded in the lock.
He left me to my doom.
Chapter Thirteen
I was loved once.
I loved in return.
I gave myself completely, utterly¸ and with no boundaries.
And I received her love unequivocally.
Owning something so precious made me the richest man alive. But losing it made me sink into destitution so bleak and damned, I had no chance of crawling out of the darkness.
I didn’t want to.
I couldn’t.
There was nothing but pain left for me.
Now I loved no one.
Now I was feared.
It was time to make her fear me.
She pushed me too far and I refused to let her hurt me further.
So I’d hurt her first.
I’d hurt her to continue surviving.
—Kill
The door opened a few hours later.
My eyes soared up, hoping and fearing Kill had returned to hurt me worse. Not that he could. It wasn’t the bruise on my ribs that hurt me every time I breathed, but the betrayal of thinking I understood him. I thought he was broken… in need of someone with the truth to glue him back together again.
But he’d shown me the stark reality.
There was no fixing someone who didn’t want to see past the pain. He truly believed I wasn’t her. His conviction was so absolute it robbed me of my own belief and made me apologetic for all the agony I’d caused.
I’m not her. Or am I?
The questions ran around and around inside my head.
I wanted to know how the memories of a dead girl existed in my tangled brain, and I knew the only way that would happen was if I broke through to Arthur and not Kill.
I looked up gingerly, trying to figure out what to say.
I’m sorry.
Give me a chance to explain.
Please, help me to understand.
But it wasn’t Kill who’d come for me.
Standing in the doorway was a Pure Corruption brother. I stared into the blue eyes of the black-haired, mohawked biker called Grasshopper.
He looked younger in the sunlight than he did when covered in blood from battle. His lips were full and set into a gentle but firm smile, and he had a cute dimple on his right cheek. “Hi,” he said.
His forehead furrowed as he stepped toward me. “Um—you okay?”
I locked my arms harder around my knees. I hadn’t moved from the carpet, leaning against the bed, twirling the Libra eraser in my fingertips. Kill hadn’t been thinking straight when he threw it at my feet—it was obviously a treasured belonging.
I wished it was magic: twist it one way and unlock the truth, spin it another and have everything lost be found. But no matter how much I held it, it didn’t give me what I needed.
“Yes.” I ran a hand through my hair, hoping I didn’t look like a domestic violence case who’d been crying. I hadn’t been crying—I felt… numb. Quakingly sad and confused.
Grasshopper’s eyes fell to my naked leg beneath my skirt and the colorful ink of flowers, small unicorn, and petals permanently transforming my thigh, calf, and toes. “Nice piece.”
I let my arms fall from my position, shooting my leg out and resting it on the carpet. “It is nice. Pity I don’t remember why I had it done, or where, or even the pain.”
His eyes widened as he ducked in front of me. “You don’t remember the pain? What—is that like a childbirth thing where they say the girl never remembers being torn in two by a fucking spawn and then a year later does it all over again?”
I cringed, laughing uncomfortably. “Thanks for painting such a lovely image inside my head.” My fingers traced a strange equation over my knee, which faded into a scripted line that I couldn’t read from the angle I rested. “Not quite. I seem to have forgotten a lot of basic things.”
Grasshopper sniffed, pushing upright to tower over me. Holding out his hand, he said, “Well, you’re still alive, so you know how to eat, sleep, and communicate. That’s something.”
I eyed his open palm. Suspicion flowed swiftly in my blood. “I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you here? I haven’t seen any of the men from the compound since that night. Arthur said he lived alone.”
Grasshopper burst into laughter, his blue eyes sparkling. “Arthur? Fuck, you call him Arthur? No wonder he’s pissed off.”
I didn’t move. Something cold slithered down my back. As nice as Grasshopper seemed to be, I didn’t like the reason why he was here—in his boss’s bedroom.
“Sorry, my mistake. Kill. President Kill.”
Grasshopper nodded, holding out his hand again, waggling it a little in impatience. “Yes, I know the dude. He’s a good man and for him to have snapped the way he has means you’re not good for his health, little lady. Come on, get up. Time to go.”