Page 86 of Ferocious Nightmare

Scowling, I pulled back, giving her a stern look, knowing that what I was doing was right.

Aster was too good for my world.

She would die because of it.

"I don't." I said, and I could tell by her expression that I'd hurt her feelings, but I braced myself for what would come next. It was better to hurt her now, than for her to live a short life of pain. "In fact, I need you to go far away from here."

She blinked, gorgeous emerald eyes confused.

"I'm sending Dante to go with you, back to Mexico."

It still took a moment for her to understand my words, but I knew the moment she did.

Pain. Hurt. Anger.

All emotions flared in her eyes.

Her fingertips, once so soft and sweet, turned into claws that fisted against my chest.

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

I nodded, ready and willing to absorb the anger I knew would spill from her.

I would take it all, because I deserved it.

I should've done this long ago, but I'd been selfish. "I know."

Aster stuttered at my admission. Her mouth had been open, ready to fight with me. But at my admission, she sucked in a breath, her chest heaving. Still angry.

And then, her lips clamped shut, pressed into a firm line. Instead of the fury I expected, tears pooled in her gaze. They edged towards the rim of her eyelids but she stubbornly held them in, as if willing them back into her. Her lower lip trembled, and she bit down on it, trying to contain her emotions.

She was trying not to cry.

Horror washed over me.

I hated every single bit of myself in that moment.

Aster was a fighter.

I expected rage and terror to rain down on me, pelting me through until I was nothing but a hollowed-out piece of skin and bone, lost without her.

But this? Softness and tenderness? I hadn't expected.

Her lips parted once more, a choked cry expelling only one word. “Why?"

Fuck. I clasped the back of her head, squeezing my eyes shut, forcing my own agony down. I clenched my fingers in her hair, fisting it tight, as if I could actually keep her.

"Because," I managed to force out through a strangled voice, "you deserve more, Aster. I'm nothing but a field of darkness, and I'm afraid, Aster," the words came tumbling out, rushed and almost indiscernible, afraid that if I didn't say them this very second, I would never be able to tell her.

To show her the darkest, most secret part of the beating, pulsing, thudding thing inside my chest.

"I'm afraid that my darkness will swallow your light."

She laughed, but it was humorless. "Dios, your ego."

I pulled back, scowling.

"You think you could swallow me? That your darkness is stronger than my ferocity to love you? That, because of you, I wouldn’t be able to face the world with hope and courage?” She shook her head, and now the warrior I knew came out. "My light is a thousand times stronger than your darkness. I could swallow it whole in one gulp and have an eternity of happiness leftover." Reaching forward, she traced her fingers over my chest. Starting at the three bullet scars, ones meant for my brother, then her touch expanded outward. I had so many scars, so many mute and smothered stories of suffering and agony, only spoken through the presence of their thickness lingering on my skin.

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