Page 38 of Carnival Monster

But even as I think those words, the monster within is too selfish to let her go. I need her like I need air. She’s the only one who chases away the darkness that threatens to consume me.

I lay beside her, pulling her into my arms and burying my face in her hair, breathing in her scent. I’ll do better, I promise myself. I’ll be the man she deserves, even if it kills me. Because a life without Aurora is no life at all.

I hold Aurora close, the guilt and shame weighing heavily on my heart. As I brush the hair from her face, I can’t help but wonder what darkness she has endured in her own life.

My mind drifts back to the demons of my past—the beatings from my step-father after my mother died when I was just a child. The pain and terror of the rapes I suffered at his hands until the day I finally snapped and ended his life. I was only twelve years old, but at that moment, I became a killer.

That day was the catalyst that sent me fleeing from my childhood home, desperate to escape the horrors that had consumed my life. I found solace in the carnival, burying my past beneath the anonymity of the mask I wear. But the darkness never truly left me.

I wonder if Aurora has faced similar demons and if the craving for danger that consumes her is rooted in her own trauma. The thought fills me with a strange empathy, a connection to this woman who captivated me.

My grip tightens around her unconscious form, and I bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. I need to know more about her to understand the depths of her own pain and the shadows that haunt her.

As I hold her, I’m struck by her vulnerability. She’s entrusted herself to me, placed her life in my hands, and I nearly snuffed it out. The realization makes me sick to my stomach. I’m no better than the monster who tormented me as a child.

I gently kiss her forehead, whispering a silent promise to protect her, to be the man she deserves. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe, even if it means walking away from her for good. Her life is far too precious to risk.

With a heavy heart, I carefully gather Aurora into my arms and carry her out of the cabin, determined to see her safely home. The journey is silent. I can’t bear to wake her, to face the fear and disappointment I know I’ll see in her eyes.

As I reach her apartment, I gently lay her on the bed, tucking her under the covers. I linger for a moment, memorizing the soft lines of her face, the way her lashes flutter against her cheeks. Then, with a heavy sigh, I turn and slip back into the shadows, leaving her behind with nothing but a note.

22

AURORA

My head pounds with pain as my eyes flutter open. As I try to piece together what happened, the memories come flooding back—Gage’s powerful hands on me, his rough voice talking dirty, the searing intensity of our encounter in the woods. I feel a flush of heat spread through me, my skin tingling with the phantom touch of his fingers.

Turning my head, I notice a folded note on the pillow beside me. My heart races as I reach for it, my fingers trembling slightly. Unfolding the paper, I read Gage’s scribbled words.

“Aurora,

I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. I needed to leave before I did something I would regret. You deserve so much better than the monster I am. Please, for your own safety, stay away from me. I’m not worth the darkness that follows in my wake.

Gage”

I stare at the words, my brow furrowing in confusion. After everything we shared, how could he just leave me here? A part of me understands his reasoning, but the other part craves his touch, intensity, and the thrill of being in his presence.

Pushing myself up, I wince at the soreness in my muscles. As I move, I notice the bandages covering my cuts have been changed. Gage must have tended to me before leaving.

The smart thing would be to stay far away from him. But the memory of his body pressed against mine, the way he made me feel free, is like an addiction I can’t shake. I need more.

I grab my cell phone, my fingers trembling as I scroll through my contacts. Finding Gage’s number, I hesitate momentarily before pressing the call button. The phone rings once, twice, three times, but there’s no answer. Disappointment settles in my chest as I get his message box.

I open our text conversation and type out a message:

Gage, I can’t stay away. What we have is too intense, too real to ignore. Please, don’t push me away. I need you.

I hit send and waited anxiously for his response, my heart pounding. Minutes feel like hours as I stare at the screen, willing his name to appear.

My phone vibrates, and I nearly drop it in my haste to read his message:

Gage: Aurora, you don’t understand. I almost killed you last night. I lost control, and I can’t risk that happening again. You’re not safe with me.

My fingers tremble as I read Gage’s message. His words send a chill through me, but the thought of him losing control, of nearly taking my life, ignites a dark fascination within me.Another message comes through.

Gage: You stopped breathing after I strangled you to orgasm, and luckily, my CPR brought you back. I won’t risk your life again.

I stare at the words, my mind racing. Gage nearly killed me, yet the idea of his powerful hands wrapped around my throat turns me on. The thought of him fighting to save me, to bring me back from the brink of death, is intoxicating.

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