Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 127484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
“I was nine when it started,” he said, his voice dead.
I blinked slowly, trying my best not to let my horror and pity seep onto my face. I knew that’s not what Knox wanted, that that would only drive him further away.
There was a reason for Knox being the way he was. That I’d known. People did not come out of the womb entirely wrong. Not even my father. The world molded my father to be that way. Sure, there was a rottenness in his core that might’ve been there since birth. But that could’ve melted away had he grown in an environment of nurture and love, raised in places where the good parts of him could’ve bloomed to outweigh the bad.
I’d known Knox was made, not born. And I’d reasoned that something horrible must’ve happened to him to leech so much happiness and empathy from a man, leaving only a cold, malevolent presence.
But I couldn’t have dreamt up this.
“He was the first person I killed.” Knox was unapologetic, unashamed. Matter of fact.
“Good,” I choked out, never thinking I’d celebrate the idea of someone being murdered. I was against the death penalty; I believed in redemption.
In theory.
But in that moment, when it was personal, I understood the need for retribution. Vengeance. Death.
Knox tilted his head. “Good?”
I nodded. “I hate that he stole even more of your innocence by you taking a life.” I was genuinely mourning for the boy who was forced on that path. “But I am glad that he doesn’t walk this earth. I’m glad you took him off this planet.”
Knox didn’t speak for a long time, as if mulling over my words, deciding if he was going to share more.
I was hungry for more, even if the horrid truth of his past stung my insides like a nest of hornets.
“I started by killing those who deserved it,” he finally spoke. “You may agree with those early deaths too. They were truly sick. It was black and white. Clean.”
When he stepped forward, I quivered. He was Knox, but he was something else inside of his skin too. The killer he’d turned himself into.
“But things never stay in black and white for long,” he continued, prowling closer.
I kept shaking at his advance, but I didn’t retreat. This was a test, I knew that. He wanted to scare me, he wanted me to run. I wouldn’t give him that. I’d show him I was strong enough to handle this. Handle him.
“But then it became clear that I needed to kill.” The ground crunched as he stopped in front of me, completely in my face. He consumed me, his harsh expression, the danger radiating off him. My body thrummed with fear and need and sadness.
“I need it to breathe, Piper,” he murmured. “There’s nothing romantic or redemptive about it. I’m not some fucked-up kind of Robin Hood killing predators. You can’t make this pretty in your mind. You can’t make me pretty in your mind. What he took from me is what I am. Ruined. Disfigured.”
The weight of his words settled inside of me like lead. He truly believed that he was wrong, damaged. The hatred he felt for himself was palpable.
“You’re not ruined or disfigured to me,” I whispered, my words broken, tears wanting to escape my eyes.
His brow hardened as I saw his determination to disgust me. To terrify me.
“You still think you want me after this?” he spat. “Want my blood-stained hands on your body? Want me to fuck you with tastes formed by years of abuse?”
I nodded slowly. His words were brutal and ugly, unveiling the attraction we’d been dancing around, but doing it so he tainted it. Made it wrong. And he did that on purpose. Because, I suspected, he’d never had an intimate relationship that felt right in any kind of way. I mourned that for him. I also felt kindred. Although I had been spared the horror of sexual abuse, all of my intimate liaisons were tarnished by fear and feigned attraction to men who wouldn’t hurt me.
“I don’t fuck like any man you’ve been with, Piper.” His rasped whisper was more powerful than any roar could’ve been. “I haven’t … enjoyed any sexual touch with a woman. Or a man.”
There was a slight difference to the cadence of his last sentence. Almost a tremor in it.
He was still trying to unsettle me. Trying to put me off as if him exploring his sexual identity and agency were something to be ashamed of.
“You haven’t found the right person, then.” I was breathing heavily.
His eyes flickered over me, purposefully brutal, assessing, unimpressed.
“You think that’s you? Because you have a tragic backstory? You’re chipped in places, Piper, but you’re not broken. Not shattered. And those chips only make you more stunning. I lay a hand on you and it would all evaporate.”