Page 10 of Unveiled

His bed is more comfortable, though. And if he keeps the nightmares away, then I should take advantage of being able to get a good night’s sleep.

When I push through the door, he follows me and sets my suitcase against the wall. He keeps his distance, letting me take the lead here.

“You don’t have to go to sleep if it’s too early for you,” I tell him, hoping he’ll take it as an out so I can be alone.

“I didn’t go to bed last night, so going to bed a little early sounds amazing,” he answers, squashing that hope quickly.

“If you go to bed with me, you’ll have to take the mask off,” I remind him, hoping that’ll make him think twice.

Instead, he pulls the mask off, revealing his face to me. His face is clean shaven, like he just groomed himself this morning, though his hair is longer than the last time I saw him. It’s growing out on the sides, begging me to run my fingers through it. His crooked nose makes me want to smirk, thinking of how he could have gotten it. And when my eyes meet his dark blues, I want to swoon. He should have just kept the mask on.

“I’m just going to, um, grab some pajamas from my bag,” I tell him, motioning to the suitcase behind him. He gestures for me to come get it without moving away, knowing that seeing his face is affecting me right now. I refuse to let him have the upper hand. I stomp toward him, refusing to look into his eyes again as I grab my suitcase and take it back to the bed.

When I dig some pajamas out, I re-zip the suitcase and turn to put it back where it was, but the monster is standing right behind me. So close my chest pushes into his with every breath I take.

“Don’t feel as if you have to wear pajamas around me, little one,” he says as he leans in even closer, his lips so close to mine they’re practically touching. “After all, I only plan to sleep in my boxers, unless you’d prefer I wear less?”

I forget how to breathe as the thought of him sleeping naked next to me runs across my mind. No, bad idea. Very, very bad idea.

“N-no,” I stutter, failing at trying to keep the upper hand here. He doesn’t move away, staying there for so long I’m just waiting for him to kiss me. When he realizes I won’t change my mind, he backs away, pulling his shirt off as he goes.

“Shame,” he says. “I’m sure we’d both enjoy that.”

My eyes lock on his tattooed chest, tracing every line of his artwork and every scar hidden underneath I could never get myself to forget. As my eyes trail down, taking in every bulge of his abs, I find something I don’t remember seeing before.

“What is that?” I ask, refusing to believe what my eyes are seeing. There, in jagged pink lines that look like freshly healed scars, is my name right above the band of his boxers.

The monster smirks as he unbuttons his pants and pulls them down, knowing I’m watching him. “I wasn’t lying when I said I beat myself up. Every day that I didn’t find the men responsible for taking you, I carved your name into my skin with the same knife I shoved up your pussy last night. I finally stopped a week ago when I found one of the men. He died last night.”

His words should make me run away, should make me realize that he’s completely psychotic. After all, he’s admitting to carving into his own skin when he couldn’t murder someone.

But, instead of running like I should, I feel oddly safe. He really punished himself every day that there was still a threat to me out there.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t do it to impress you, I did it to punish myself. All you need to do right now is get your pajamas on and come to bed with me.”

I don’t argue. Pushing past him, I walk into the bathroom to get ready for bed and prepare myself to be next to the monster all night.

Chapter 5

Ainsley

When I’ve taken enough time to mentally prepare myself for tonight, I go back into the bedroom to find the monster sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for me. My eyes again travel to the scar above his waistband, but when I realize it looks like I’m staring at the bulge in his boxers, I snap my eyes back up.

“Are you ready for bed?” he asks, sounding more nonchalant than I feel. I can’t force words out, so I just nod as I walk toward him. He stands up, letting me crawl onto the bed instead of walking around it, and then pulls the blankets over me as he climbs in next to me.

“I don’t like you adding more scars to yourself,” I admit. “You have plenty already; you don’t need to keep hurting yourself.”

The monster pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear and rests his hand on my cheek, gently stroking my skin with his thumb. A sweet gesture that I should stop, but I can’t bring myself to pull away. “The physical pain of carving your name into my skin was a walk in the park compared to the pain of watching you walk away from me and live your life without me.”

It shouldn’t be that way. He should be able to accept that I made the decision that was best for me and let me go. But when I look into his eyes, I can see the pain reflected there, and it breaks my heart. Why can’t he just let me go?

“Can I see it?” I need to see it, trace the jagged lines and take responsibility for the pain I caused him. Maybe, if I help him get over this pain, he’ll finally be able to let me go.

He looks into my eyes, making sure I actually mean what I say before he rolls onto his back and pulls the blanket down, revealing the scar to me. It looks horrible, uglier up close than it was from a distance. I can see the lines where he dug the knife deeper than the rest, and the ones still trying to heal. But, there it is, my name permanently etched into his skin.

“I hate that you did this,” I murmur as my finger gently traces the lines, an apology for hurting him without saying the words.

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